It's hard to describe what all I'm feeling. There's a plethora of shit going on in my head and it all just seems to be compounding in on itself. Between the ongoing stress in trying to find a reason or purpose in my life, and then all this new found other stress from a polyamourous relationship is just starting to weigh on me.
Then, of course, there is a now renewed desire to start cutting again. Which, while I debated heavily last night is still yet to happen for various reasons. I'm still not quite sure what my plans are on that front. Part of me feels I need the emotional release and control that it would bring, but another doesn't want to go back down that alley, and the last few times that I have decided to, haven't been that great at granted said desires, or rewarded. So, it is, as of yet, undecided. The desire, however, remains.
The poly problems, which more or less started this week, revolve around the hurt from people being careless with my emotions. I felt hurt, obviously, mainly dealing with the fact that in a time designed to be spent with my primary partner, after being left with nothing to do for a bit, opted to visit her new flame for what was intending to be a 4 hour jaunt. This then turned into an all day/night thing.
Thus not knowing when she would be back, and not really having anything to do on my own, resulted in a wasted Friday being spent watching Star Trek. I don't mind these things on a normal weekday, they are routine in their acceptability, but not my ideal way of spending one of the few days that I have time in which to do things.
I'm not upset at her having a new flame, I've encouraged it as there are aspects of our relationship that are unfulfilled, and I don't wish for her to be stuck without them. However I felt somewhat used, more as a closet and maid, than for any possible sexual reason. When the time meant to be spent together is then used to spend time with someone else. The word abandoned was mentioned, but that feels more extreme than I want it to. I don't worry that the relationship is over, or that I'll be neglected like my last relationship, which I think would be more akin to the meaning of the word. There was however a deep sense of isolation, disappointment, and hurt. Along with speckles of betrayal. Not in the "Et Tu brutus" sort of sense, but more in a being lied to sort of way, even if unintentional.
To compound on that sentiment, acting in either my masochism or plain idiocy, I opted to discuss, in vague terms, what was going on with my ex (I prefer to keep her at best, a few arms lengths away from my emotionality). This, predictably, didn't end well (in case you wondered why). In short, my venting was taken as an opportunity to critique my character and boast, albeit unintentionally, about her own situation. I'm starting to find that interactions with her end more and more with "oh fuck you". At which point it's probably not a good idea to continue conversing with her.
In the midst of the night, while feeling the plethora of shit cocktail, the friends and other partners that I did try to confide in either weren't intimately acquainted enough to feel comfortable properly conveying my emotions, or were too busy to deal with me. Which, inevitably ended up with my feeling even worse, both for annoying/pestering them, and for my continued exacerbated isolation.
I worry about being too isolated because it is in such that the worse thoughts come to bear. The suicidal and violent thoughts that I may often have but don't give much credence to come back stronger and magnified in isolation, especially when predisposed to a negative mood. I do not like being tempted/teased in this regard, I find it dangerous and unhealthy. I've no outright objection to the thoughts, but I dislike the idea of being in between them. Such, I suppose, is the curse of being a fatalist, however. I want things to happen, one way or the other, not be stuck in some half-assed half-state somewhere in between. A fitting parallel for my life, in fact.
I write this now, in the late morning trying to wrap my head around things and figure out how I feel, and what I can do to lift this veil of depression. She has apologized and I accepted it, but that doesn't repair the hurt that I feel. I'm trying, but I still can't help but feel somewhat displaced and offput by things. I'm trying hard to restrain from feeling bitter, jaded, and cynical. Though the struggle continues to be pervasive. I find myself wanting to lash out and say hurtful things, but, I've yet to sink into that much self-loathing.
One cannot claim to be graceful if it shreds at the first sign of an ill fitted environment. Grace under fire is my definition of the word. This may though, by the most extreme test of said quality to date.
Showing posts with label Self Mutliation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Self Mutliation. Show all posts
3.01.2014
11.06.2012
A referendum on choice
I'm not sure where to begin. I feel utterly lost, and helpless. I look back at my city as I walk home, and ask myself what the fuck am I doing here. I can't help but keep my frustration and anger at a minimum and dive fully into escapism. Walking home has become a trial of how long I can hold back my tears until I can find another venture to stick my brain into. Books, games, movies, television, other people. It is all just one form of escapism or another, and nothing really alleviates the prime issues.
I am still unable to find a reason, something that gives my life meaning. I just don't understand why I am doing this, or anything. What is the point? I work, so that I can provide for myself, until my body dies anyway. That implies some sort of benefit from being alive, which, I fail at the moment to comprehend or understand.
I feel old habits returning again. meh. I honestly can't be bothered to care anymore.
I am still unable to find a reason, something that gives my life meaning. I just don't understand why I am doing this, or anything. What is the point? I work, so that I can provide for myself, until my body dies anyway. That implies some sort of benefit from being alive, which, I fail at the moment to comprehend or understand.
I feel old habits returning again. meh. I honestly can't be bothered to care anymore.
2.29.2012
Paused
It bothers me just what conclusions people draw without talking to me about things. They see some of my bad habits, and make assumptions. I wouldn't, and normally don't, care what people want to believe, until it comes to effect me. I've been called a leach, and my emotional stability called into question. Which, would strike me as funny was it not so hurtful.
Since I was a teenager I've had to depend on myself for emotional support. I hide away my secrets and emotional states from everyone until it almost killed me (circa January 2008). Since then, I've taken a dramatic turn for the better, and moved into a much more aware, happy, and stable mindset.
I used to cut weekly, now it is down to a few times a year. I've written before on how cutting is an emotional control, it is a release, and a coping mechanism for my extremes. It serves to rush if I'm feeling numb, and it serves to calm if I'm erratic. Rarely is it used as a tool of self-mutilation or destruction to that extent. I cut as an answer to symptoms, the cutting is not the symptom in itself. I don't cut out of self hatred anymore, I've learned to stop doing that. I do it now more as an act of moderation to keep myself within certain boundaries in extremes, and I nearly always regret it afterwards. Yet, because of this, the idea is now floating among people that I have to attach myself to others to leach emotional stability, that I am so terrified of being alone, that I need other people to fix/keep me in line.
These were all things I was accused of, and that hurt to hear. How people can think I am so pathetic, selfish, or cowardly is beyond me. I transitioned on my own, for myself. It would kill me if I didn't. I moved to Seattle on my own, for my own sanity. I left behind my family, my friends, and everything I have known, I gave up all that security and comfort for the sake of my mental and emotional stability and sanity. I have routinely put myself available on internet dating sites, and routinely been hurt by people in order to find friends and potential partners to bring good people into my life. I have done all this, and I still do all this in order to better my life, to make myself happier, and provide for my stability.
I said being accused of being a leach was laughable. The idea that after all this, I would suddenly have to depend on other people to make me stable seems comical. If I needed other people, how could I leave everyone, literally everyone, I knew behind and move 2300 miles away from 99% of all my contacts (I found an old friend in Portland, but that was the closest). If I needed other people, how could I risk the affections of my friends and family by coming out to them. I did both of these things for my own sanity and stability, and the idea that I now can't risk being away from someone, is borderline offensive if not downright hurtful. I find myself questioning just how well people think they know me.
I dislike being alone. This is true, and I think I have justifiable reasons for it. That is not to say I can't be alone, or I can't be single. I've spent most of my life being single or alone, it is another reason I dislike it. However, disliking something and needing the opposite are not the same things. I enjoy being social, I prefer to be around other people if I can, I get energy from social situations (though I'm still introverted at this stage).
At this point, my relationship is at best, paused. At worst, over. The distance that was requested from me is and was too painful for me to take while still emotionally attached. When I fall in love it is usually very in depth and blinding. It is easy for me to get in over my head, as it seems was the case here. I think some of the issues revolve around it being my first polyamorous, and first dom/sub relationship as well. My wanting of some sort of emotional connection or bond to keep me from getting jealous overtook most everything else. I was afraid of pushing people away, and thus bottled in things that upset me, and refused absolutely to let myself be jealous. This only exacerbated my need for an emotional connection that simply wasn't ready yet. Instead of discussing my feelings of being used or objectified, I focused solely on that connection in hopes it would remedy everything. I placed all my hopes and remedies in that connection, and when it failed to materialize I began to fall apart.
This, in itself, is not enough to bring me to cutting. The falling apart, in combination with a large number of negative emotions revolving around my job brought me to the edge. The lack of support on these issues is what brought me to cutting. The internalized negativity needed to be released, which it did over the course of a few erratic emotional days of crying. After a few days I both grew tired of this, and felt the volatility of my emotions growing more erratic, and decided it best to cap them, by cutting. I wrote about this experience, and that soon after, in the post titled "On Being Punished".
I do wish to note that the previous was not linear. My falling apart happened across multiple days both before and after cutting. In that, I reached out for support, but was given further distance, likely due to the cutting, and appearance of the lack of self sustainability. Which now brings us full circle, to the confrontation of that distance and pain.
I do not want this relationship to end, but I feel emotionally, that I cannot continue to let myself be vulnerable to someone who seems to ignores me. As apparently we both need distance (my withdrawing in response to the initial distance) the best thing it seems is to give each other space. My concern lies in the ability for my feelings to regenerate after being recessed and withdrawn.
This post, I feel is exposition on how things have gone. I do not begin to claim everything as fact, or unbiased. Hopefully soon I'll be able to write about things returning to normal, I want to be able to write that post. It is somewhat, my motivation for this one, but I have done all that I can. Pushing and stressing the issue does nothing to help either of us, so at this point, I leave it to fate.
One last funny note however. I fell in love in the snow, in the early morning one day. Today, in the morning, a quick waft of snow trickled down on my way to work. It felt like an omen then, I hope it remains one of positivity, and not one marking an ending. Thinking of that moment still reduces me to tears in how badly I long for that moment back.
As such, I'm refusing to mark this post under the Moving On tag.
Since I was a teenager I've had to depend on myself for emotional support. I hide away my secrets and emotional states from everyone until it almost killed me (circa January 2008). Since then, I've taken a dramatic turn for the better, and moved into a much more aware, happy, and stable mindset.
I used to cut weekly, now it is down to a few times a year. I've written before on how cutting is an emotional control, it is a release, and a coping mechanism for my extremes. It serves to rush if I'm feeling numb, and it serves to calm if I'm erratic. Rarely is it used as a tool of self-mutilation or destruction to that extent. I cut as an answer to symptoms, the cutting is not the symptom in itself. I don't cut out of self hatred anymore, I've learned to stop doing that. I do it now more as an act of moderation to keep myself within certain boundaries in extremes, and I nearly always regret it afterwards. Yet, because of this, the idea is now floating among people that I have to attach myself to others to leach emotional stability, that I am so terrified of being alone, that I need other people to fix/keep me in line.
These were all things I was accused of, and that hurt to hear. How people can think I am so pathetic, selfish, or cowardly is beyond me. I transitioned on my own, for myself. It would kill me if I didn't. I moved to Seattle on my own, for my own sanity. I left behind my family, my friends, and everything I have known, I gave up all that security and comfort for the sake of my mental and emotional stability and sanity. I have routinely put myself available on internet dating sites, and routinely been hurt by people in order to find friends and potential partners to bring good people into my life. I have done all this, and I still do all this in order to better my life, to make myself happier, and provide for my stability.
I said being accused of being a leach was laughable. The idea that after all this, I would suddenly have to depend on other people to make me stable seems comical. If I needed other people, how could I leave everyone, literally everyone, I knew behind and move 2300 miles away from 99% of all my contacts (I found an old friend in Portland, but that was the closest). If I needed other people, how could I risk the affections of my friends and family by coming out to them. I did both of these things for my own sanity and stability, and the idea that I now can't risk being away from someone, is borderline offensive if not downright hurtful. I find myself questioning just how well people think they know me.
I dislike being alone. This is true, and I think I have justifiable reasons for it. That is not to say I can't be alone, or I can't be single. I've spent most of my life being single or alone, it is another reason I dislike it. However, disliking something and needing the opposite are not the same things. I enjoy being social, I prefer to be around other people if I can, I get energy from social situations (though I'm still introverted at this stage).
At this point, my relationship is at best, paused. At worst, over. The distance that was requested from me is and was too painful for me to take while still emotionally attached. When I fall in love it is usually very in depth and blinding. It is easy for me to get in over my head, as it seems was the case here. I think some of the issues revolve around it being my first polyamorous, and first dom/sub relationship as well. My wanting of some sort of emotional connection or bond to keep me from getting jealous overtook most everything else. I was afraid of pushing people away, and thus bottled in things that upset me, and refused absolutely to let myself be jealous. This only exacerbated my need for an emotional connection that simply wasn't ready yet. Instead of discussing my feelings of being used or objectified, I focused solely on that connection in hopes it would remedy everything. I placed all my hopes and remedies in that connection, and when it failed to materialize I began to fall apart.
This, in itself, is not enough to bring me to cutting. The falling apart, in combination with a large number of negative emotions revolving around my job brought me to the edge. The lack of support on these issues is what brought me to cutting. The internalized negativity needed to be released, which it did over the course of a few erratic emotional days of crying. After a few days I both grew tired of this, and felt the volatility of my emotions growing more erratic, and decided it best to cap them, by cutting. I wrote about this experience, and that soon after, in the post titled "On Being Punished".
I do wish to note that the previous was not linear. My falling apart happened across multiple days both before and after cutting. In that, I reached out for support, but was given further distance, likely due to the cutting, and appearance of the lack of self sustainability. Which now brings us full circle, to the confrontation of that distance and pain.
I do not want this relationship to end, but I feel emotionally, that I cannot continue to let myself be vulnerable to someone who seems to ignores me. As apparently we both need distance (my withdrawing in response to the initial distance) the best thing it seems is to give each other space. My concern lies in the ability for my feelings to regenerate after being recessed and withdrawn.
This post, I feel is exposition on how things have gone. I do not begin to claim everything as fact, or unbiased. Hopefully soon I'll be able to write about things returning to normal, I want to be able to write that post. It is somewhat, my motivation for this one, but I have done all that I can. Pushing and stressing the issue does nothing to help either of us, so at this point, I leave it to fate.
One last funny note however. I fell in love in the snow, in the early morning one day. Today, in the morning, a quick waft of snow trickled down on my way to work. It felt like an omen then, I hope it remains one of positivity, and not one marking an ending. Thinking of that moment still reduces me to tears in how badly I long for that moment back.
As such, I'm refusing to mark this post under the Moving On tag.
2.26.2012
Fulfillment
I seem to be struggling with fulfillment in my life. I fine the routine of spending the majority of my week for the little money I make to be distinctly not worth my time. I've been asking around to older friends of mine if this is what life is like outside of school. If chasing the minor rewards is as good as it gets.
I find myself lying to people. Not about anything large, but just when people ask me about how my life is. It is becoming relevant as I happen upon my one year anniversary of moving to Seattle. People no doubt ask me if I'm happy, if I'm satisfied, do I regret the move, etc. My natural reaction is to rant and rave about how awesome the place is, and it is. I love the city, and the people in it. I love the privileges I'm given by not having to live in the South anymore. There are some things that I miss, mainly the people I knew/loved back in Texas, but that aside, there isn't much to regret. But, my feelings are double sided. Not in my location, but just in life, at the moment feels very unfulfilled and pointless. Not that I've ever had a point to go on, or reason to continue, outside of fear. I find myself asking if this is what people do, they go to work doing whatever for the majority of their week, then they come home for two days off a week to do some meaningless task, and repeat the process again indefinitely, and for what?
A house? A car? more bullshit consumerism of things that I neither car about or need at the moment. I know the simple answer is to find a position that is more fulfilling, something I'm a bit stuck on until I get a few more years of experience under my belt. The alternative is to that often given is to find a hobby or things I enjoy doing. I have those, they just don't feel like a raison d'etre. They don't make going to work for the majority of my life worth it.
I don't believe it is an esteem issue, or an image issue, it seems more a disillusionment issue. Life up to this point has been a progression. This school to do that, then this school to that for whatever reasons, and on and on. Now, with no other clear goals, I find myself wondering what the point of it all was, just to do some meaningless bullshit for a meager wage and very little of my own free time to do the little things that I do enjoy.
I know these symptoms of depression, and I don't care for them. The numbness, while comfortable and familiar, encourages self-mutilation. Unfortunately, I don't see the clear remedy to this issue like I have in the past.
I find myself lying to people. Not about anything large, but just when people ask me about how my life is. It is becoming relevant as I happen upon my one year anniversary of moving to Seattle. People no doubt ask me if I'm happy, if I'm satisfied, do I regret the move, etc. My natural reaction is to rant and rave about how awesome the place is, and it is. I love the city, and the people in it. I love the privileges I'm given by not having to live in the South anymore. There are some things that I miss, mainly the people I knew/loved back in Texas, but that aside, there isn't much to regret. But, my feelings are double sided. Not in my location, but just in life, at the moment feels very unfulfilled and pointless. Not that I've ever had a point to go on, or reason to continue, outside of fear. I find myself asking if this is what people do, they go to work doing whatever for the majority of their week, then they come home for two days off a week to do some meaningless task, and repeat the process again indefinitely, and for what?
A house? A car? more bullshit consumerism of things that I neither car about or need at the moment. I know the simple answer is to find a position that is more fulfilling, something I'm a bit stuck on until I get a few more years of experience under my belt. The alternative is to that often given is to find a hobby or things I enjoy doing. I have those, they just don't feel like a raison d'etre. They don't make going to work for the majority of my life worth it.
I don't believe it is an esteem issue, or an image issue, it seems more a disillusionment issue. Life up to this point has been a progression. This school to do that, then this school to that for whatever reasons, and on and on. Now, with no other clear goals, I find myself wondering what the point of it all was, just to do some meaningless bullshit for a meager wage and very little of my own free time to do the little things that I do enjoy.
I know these symptoms of depression, and I don't care for them. The numbness, while comfortable and familiar, encourages self-mutilation. Unfortunately, I don't see the clear remedy to this issue like I have in the past.
2.16.2012
On Being Punished
This past weekend was not kind to me. In a fit of emotional breakdown I ended up cutting again. I haven't cut since May 2011, and this is the first time I've done it in Seattle. I'm still not quite sure what I intended to accomplish. I've sense written a letter to myself effectively calling out all of my bullshit, which, I may post as an edit to this post. The letter was drastic, and really helped me confront some of my issues on romance and expectations. Largely, everything revolves around my sources of validation and finding it from other people instead of from within. It also serves to call out some of my insecurities.
The salient point of this post however, is the aftermath of said self-mutilation. Emotions ranged from disappointment at the lack of the initial rush, to the relief, and peace that comes afterwards. Cutting was always a form of emotional control, it caps off everything and lets me be at peace for the rest of the day or so. Why this form of repression works is still a mystery to me, but it simply pushes everything aside and lets me think coherently again without all the noise of depression and deprecation that normally haunts me. I'd love to say that it wasn't body image related, but I purposefully push those in to make the rush/release better.
The following days went about as expected with no real changes aside from calming me down. Until last night. My partner wasshowing testing out the cat-o-nine-tales she recently acquired on me. This isn't unusual for us as we normally have a submissive/dominant role behavior. This went normally until towards the end I began to tear up, which is abnormal for me. I'm not entirely sure if it was just the emotional build up from the past week coming out finally, but that seems a likely suspect. Afterwards I made a remark that ensured she would find the cuts. She expressed her dissatisfaction, which I thought would simply be a verbal scolding and reproach. I did not expect her to actually punish me for it, and with such intensity. By the end of it I was crying intensely and unable to speak.
At this point she said if I was having a hard day that I could speak to her, I wanted to reply that I've had a hard life, but couldn't bring myself to speak and maintain composure at the same time.
We discussed the issue, and debated turning it into something creative, the idea of putting a line through them to signify the ending of the habit. This idea appealed to me, but I quickly became attached to cutting, hanging on to it in case I needed it. She eventually decided to make X's through them with a carbon fiber rod, which left me in further tears and shambles, and then told me that as long as I belonged to her, I wasn't allowed to do that anymore.
I'm not quite sure what I think of everything. I enjoy the idea of belonging that I get from being with/owned by her, but I'm also torn in that I'm hindered from my one emergency escape release I have, a release from emotions and insecurities often exacerbated by or originating from our relationship. Not that they are the pinnacle of issues I have, but they are often a contributing factor.
She asked why I didn't tell her, and I'm usually afraid people will think I do it for attention, or dismiss the issue as petty and childish, or insincere. Often I don't find them that important enough to bring up. Partially, I don't enjoy admitting my insecurities to the people that cause them. It requires a degree of emotional vulnerability and conflict willingness that I simply haven't achieved yet.
She also asked how I could hate myself so much. It is astonishingly easy when you've spent 15 years internalizing the sociological hatred for people like yourself, or the disgust at feeling disfigurement every time you look in the mirror. You build up so much of that, it simply becomes who you are over time, it becomes natural.
In writing the note to myself mentioned earlier, I wanted to end it by signing "I love you". I couldn't bring myself to type it. Not that this is news, One of my previous partners took it upon herself to point it out to me (as if I wasn't aware) and use it as another point for us to break up. Personally, I've come to a truce on the issues. I don't expect and can't be at peace with myself when it isn't who I am, and embodies (literally) myself. Until things are remedied, there is little I can do but accept things they way they are, for the time being. Which I've largely done. It doesn't mean I love myself, I can't, or won't, but it does mean I can live and function normally for periods of time.
In the end, I'm glad everything last night happened, I just wish the issues that necessitated the cutting in the first place were solved, rather than dealing with the symptomatic responses to it.
The salient point of this post however, is the aftermath of said self-mutilation. Emotions ranged from disappointment at the lack of the initial rush, to the relief, and peace that comes afterwards. Cutting was always a form of emotional control, it caps off everything and lets me be at peace for the rest of the day or so. Why this form of repression works is still a mystery to me, but it simply pushes everything aside and lets me think coherently again without all the noise of depression and deprecation that normally haunts me. I'd love to say that it wasn't body image related, but I purposefully push those in to make the rush/release better.
The following days went about as expected with no real changes aside from calming me down. Until last night. My partner was
At this point she said if I was having a hard day that I could speak to her, I wanted to reply that I've had a hard life, but couldn't bring myself to speak and maintain composure at the same time.
We discussed the issue, and debated turning it into something creative, the idea of putting a line through them to signify the ending of the habit. This idea appealed to me, but I quickly became attached to cutting, hanging on to it in case I needed it. She eventually decided to make X's through them with a carbon fiber rod, which left me in further tears and shambles, and then told me that as long as I belonged to her, I wasn't allowed to do that anymore.
I'm not quite sure what I think of everything. I enjoy the idea of belonging that I get from being with/owned by her, but I'm also torn in that I'm hindered from my one emergency escape release I have, a release from emotions and insecurities often exacerbated by or originating from our relationship. Not that they are the pinnacle of issues I have, but they are often a contributing factor.
She asked why I didn't tell her, and I'm usually afraid people will think I do it for attention, or dismiss the issue as petty and childish, or insincere. Often I don't find them that important enough to bring up. Partially, I don't enjoy admitting my insecurities to the people that cause them. It requires a degree of emotional vulnerability and conflict willingness that I simply haven't achieved yet.
She also asked how I could hate myself so much. It is astonishingly easy when you've spent 15 years internalizing the sociological hatred for people like yourself, or the disgust at feeling disfigurement every time you look in the mirror. You build up so much of that, it simply becomes who you are over time, it becomes natural.
In writing the note to myself mentioned earlier, I wanted to end it by signing "I love you". I couldn't bring myself to type it. Not that this is news, One of my previous partners took it upon herself to point it out to me (as if I wasn't aware) and use it as another point for us to break up. Personally, I've come to a truce on the issues. I don't expect and can't be at peace with myself when it isn't who I am, and embodies (literally) myself. Until things are remedied, there is little I can do but accept things they way they are, for the time being. Which I've largely done. It doesn't mean I love myself, I can't, or won't, but it does mean I can live and function normally for periods of time.
In the end, I'm glad everything last night happened, I just wish the issues that necessitated the cutting in the first place were solved, rather than dealing with the symptomatic responses to it.
12.12.2011
Dreaming Again
It has been over two months since I've written, and I feel that is largely, acceptable. It isn't that things are just so amazing that I don't have time to write, in contrast, it is quite far from it. I just find that escapism is a more effective means of dealing with most things at the moment. A very...precarious step back for me. I've noticed some old habits coming back up, paranoia, self-deprecation, body image issues, and perhaps the most egregious of offenders, internal dialogue. Not in that understanding oneself is bad, but bouncing ideas back and forth with myself and letting them snowball into issues when they are not, is something I had long given up. Yet now, I find them returning.
I haven't been to a therapist in almost nine months, and while I was alright with this for a good while, it may be time to start back up again. The lack of a source of rebuttal and honest discourse about my life has caused me to inflect almost everything.
To said effect, I've had nightmares, regularly. They vary in degree of intensity and subject matter. Most recently it was stinging insects and tarantulas that I couldn't get off/out of my skin. I would hit them and smash their exoskeletons, but their stingers would remain intact and in my skin, infecting me. Other dreams have involved self mutilation and botched surgeries. These have all started since graduation last December. It is irregular for me to remember most dreams, and even more so for me to have consistent nightmares. The..intensity..and..grotesque nature of some of them doesn't make me long for sleep. It does however explain the cold sweats I wake up in.
My living situation is soon to be in chaos, and I'm not sure how this is going to affect me. I am just going to approach it with the best of my ability and hope I can make it work. I have suffered through worse, and I can't imagine my trust will be betrayed. I simply dislike not having a personal space, it feels very limiting emotionally, and having to keep up my masks/acting all the time becomes very tiresome and draining after multiple days on end. To said extent, I'll probably start writing more often without the clear emotional vents that I have in place already.
I do have some things brewing, new social circles and such, that may be promising. I'm hesitant to put too much emphasis and them however as they are still newborn and I don't want to get over attached in case things don't work out. My paranoia about perceptions is also keeping me at a distance. That said, the euphoria they have given me the past few days is very, very welcome. The inverse, has me avoiding some of the people I met here previously, and tolerated. I understand this is somewhat of a "shitty" thing to do, but, we all do what we must for our intellectual and emotional sanity. The family I had in Texas was one that I loved dearly, and leaving them to move in with my mother was a shock, leaving them to come here, and find myself dealing with topics and issues I have long since abandoned was excruciating.
Things are not perfect, nor do I expect them to be. However, there is hope, for the first time, in a long time. But, perhaps, maybe I'm just sleeping again, and this is but another cruel emotional self-mutilation dream.
I haven't been to a therapist in almost nine months, and while I was alright with this for a good while, it may be time to start back up again. The lack of a source of rebuttal and honest discourse about my life has caused me to inflect almost everything.
To said effect, I've had nightmares, regularly. They vary in degree of intensity and subject matter. Most recently it was stinging insects and tarantulas that I couldn't get off/out of my skin. I would hit them and smash their exoskeletons, but their stingers would remain intact and in my skin, infecting me. Other dreams have involved self mutilation and botched surgeries. These have all started since graduation last December. It is irregular for me to remember most dreams, and even more so for me to have consistent nightmares. The..intensity..and..grotesque nature of some of them doesn't make me long for sleep. It does however explain the cold sweats I wake up in.
My living situation is soon to be in chaos, and I'm not sure how this is going to affect me. I am just going to approach it with the best of my ability and hope I can make it work. I have suffered through worse, and I can't imagine my trust will be betrayed. I simply dislike not having a personal space, it feels very limiting emotionally, and having to keep up my masks/acting all the time becomes very tiresome and draining after multiple days on end. To said extent, I'll probably start writing more often without the clear emotional vents that I have in place already.
I do have some things brewing, new social circles and such, that may be promising. I'm hesitant to put too much emphasis and them however as they are still newborn and I don't want to get over attached in case things don't work out. My paranoia about perceptions is also keeping me at a distance. That said, the euphoria they have given me the past few days is very, very welcome. The inverse, has me avoiding some of the people I met here previously, and tolerated. I understand this is somewhat of a "shitty" thing to do, but, we all do what we must for our intellectual and emotional sanity. The family I had in Texas was one that I loved dearly, and leaving them to move in with my mother was a shock, leaving them to come here, and find myself dealing with topics and issues I have long since abandoned was excruciating.
Things are not perfect, nor do I expect them to be. However, there is hope, for the first time, in a long time. But, perhaps, maybe I'm just sleeping again, and this is but another cruel emotional self-mutilation dream.
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