Be Cool or Else

Trauma, whee.

Also been dealing with the confirmed knowledge that I'm just not meant to ever be taken care of or feel desired or loved, and that's like, okay I guess. There's more to life than those things, right? Like taking care of other people. That was sarcasm, but also, I guess, y'know?

Anyway. Lots to unpack in therapy now that I'm able to breathe a little bit, but there's a part of me that clearly is afraid to start opening that door too wide again.

We were doing so well, y'know? The last time I had a real inventory and understanding of all the parts that make me up, the last time I felt like I had mapped out my mind palace... I really felt like I had a grasp on who I was and what I wanted.

And, well, the world laughed at that in March 2020. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life grieving what could have been, again. I want a life. I want to feel. I want to experience. I want to burrow my way out of debt and trauma and the baggage that has threatened to drown me over and over and over again.

My language-learning was thrown overboard. My reading habits died down immensely (still keeping up with a couple web serials, but it took me a couple months to finish the last full book I read), and my creative hobbies are in the toilet. I was so beaten down, stressed, exhausted. The stress was making all of my disorders flare, my cystic acne was KILLING ME... bad time to be alive.

But I'm trying to rebuild. Trying to enforce some new boundaries about how much I let work "follow me home" (I work from home, but you get it), and keep things in stride.