idle vapourings of a mind diseased

About me: melancholic ★ single lesbian ★ 30s ★ ISFP ★ enneagram sx/sp 4w5 ★ located in Texas, USA ★ aquarius·virgo·virgo ★ purple ★ exvangelical / exfundie ★ chronic badass enduring ankylosing spondylitis, pots syndrome, endometriosis, complex PTSD, and sensory processing disorder.

Once, I considered myself extremely authentic. Now, I question it all.

As I observe myself interacting with others I can viscerally feel a mask automatically click on. Alone, my mood is anger & sorrow as I grieve my lost relationship & process the pain. Sunday at church I was a greeter and every time the door would open or someone approached me it's like I would slip a new happy skin right over my miserable face that had just been fighting off tears.

In half a second, to go from angry & tearful to 😃Hi, I'm so glad you're here!😃 felt surreal and disgusting.

The emotion of warmth truly was genuine. I've worked hard to help start this inclusive church where my fellow queers are welcome to both worship & serve. I want them to feel welcomed. So I know I'm not faking that. But then even as I talk to the people I do know I'm keeping that plastered smile there despite how exhausting it is, and telling jokes. It feels wrong to show my strongest feelings because they are not cheerful. So I try to be funny to lighten the mood, and I recognize each of those jokes as another mask. The jokes aren't funny to me; I'm simply bringing others comfort at the cost my own. The desire is to go curl up in a corner and not talk to anyone yet I push myself to make everyone else feel good.

Now, again alone in my room, no masks are needed yet I sit paralyzed afraid to see what's underneath. There is a desire, fueled by disgust, to violently rip the layers off my face. Who am I with no masks? and how can I prioritize my own comfort when others are around?

Stuck at the back of my throat.

I want to rip my chest open,

To lay the pain of my soul bare.

I'll speak my truth; You'll cry monster.

The grief will overflow; I'll learn to swim.

My heart will heal over time, right?

The damage you did to my tender soul?

Yes, I have healed before and I will again.

My days will be filled with loving acts

For my inner child & wounded femininity.

On my journal pages I'll bear my heart

To examine every red flag I looked past

Particularly, the biggest of them all:

My strength, it dwindles.

You are not gentle with me.

My heart does not feel safe.

Emotions must stay hidden.

While I am learning who I am.

The more I learn my autism,

The more I see I am inconvenient.

Am I too broken to be lovable?

This feels like a death sentence.

You say no one will ever love me

With accomodations & meltdowns.

I understand, now that I know why

My mind works as it does - death.

My death would make the world

The better place I'd hoped my love

My girl dedicating a song to me

I love her voice so much

We've had a rough patch the last few months

But she's fighting for us

Please like her song & consider following her

You want me to be your damsel in distress?

I bare my fragile soul as I fall into your arms.

You pull me close; I feel secure, held, safe.

Then you dare turn on me like a rabid dog?

Snapping at me for your own uncertainty?

Do not worry, I'll never ask for rescue again.

My body feels like a prison, my mind a vice.

I am in so much pain, and no one cares.

Spending the rest of my life in isolation

Because of this broken body and broken mind?

Death really does seem more humane right now.