it's mostly just screaming here

When I hear the word dramatic, I think of gross overreactions, mascara tears, and people who instigate problems on purpose.

And honestly, I hate myself, but I dont do that stuff. I hold back tears until I burst. Im conflict AVOIDANT. I hate for anyone to see me cry, and I certainly dont pretend to be upset when im not. I pretend im not upset when I am!

But my friends and acquaintances all use 'dramatic' to describe me.

And, Im an ex-theater kid. I AM dramatic if you take it to mean theatrical. And I dont feel 'theatrical' is a bad thing.

But my brain chooses to purposefully misunderstand when people use that term to describe me. Im choosing, even doing mental gymnastics to believe they think I make my feelings everyone else's problem. In reality, they are talking about how I could wear a literal cape to Super 1 and make it look natural. (Which i could) ((and may have done)). I hear it most about my dance style. I still think of the bad meaning even when the good meaning makes so much more sense.

But that's what I'm gonna do. I can't let this consume me.

She said she would have chosen me if she'd known. It's hard for me to trust that. But, I created this situation.

I was so scared if I gave her an ultimatum she would still choose the cat. And that would hurt so much worse, if she did it knowingly, and on purpose, than if she didnt know how bad it would hurt. I was so scared of her not choosing me if an ultimatum was given. So scared. I pleaded for her not to get one, but was never clear on how I would react if she did. I crossed my fingers and hoped she would choose me. That she would respect my explanations of how much it would make difficult for me.

Clearly, she didnt.

It ripped my heart out. I scream-cried anytime I was alone for days.

She says if I'd trusted her with my ultimatum, she would have chosen me. If I'd trusted her with my honest feelings that I wouldn't have had to go through that.

She's not going to give up the cat. She's made a commitment to the animal.

I wish I wasn't allergic.

I've got a real hang up about being 'chosen'.

My dad left when I was 5. He liked his new family better than me and my sister. He made that super obvious.

Let's just skip the bullying drama and say i wasn't chosen at school either.

I thought an old acquaintance chose me. He called out of the blue and said he was moving back to my state to date me, if I'd have him. I ate that up. He remembered me? Not only that, but he wanted me?

No. He didn't choose me. He targeted me. I fell for it with all my friends and family telling me he was bad news. I couldn't see it. I was hurt they weren't happy for me. Was it really so wrong for me to be chosen?

I came out the other side of that with a LOT of emotional scarring.

But I digress.

I dont feel confident that she would have chosen me. I mean, it's easy to say when it requires no action. I still should have let her have all the facts to make a decision with, tho. That's on me.

She says she forgives me. I now have to forgive myself. Which we all know Im great at.

Friends, I spent the weekend without my left arm. My neck is so messed up that my rotator cuff stopped responding. I could use my hand, but not my arm. It was terrifying. I was spiraling. Like omg, I girlbossed too close to the sun and my wax wings have melted. I have none to blame but my own insistence that I could stitch my feelings to death. My emotional avoidance has cost me the one thing that brought me joy about myself. But it was just panic. My chiropractor shoved his elbow into my shoulder, I saw colors i didnt have words for, and then I could lift my arm again. It still hurts, mind you. But I am so relieved. I was so scared.

(This happened once before when I started lyra training. It eventually got better with help from a friend who had a similar problem. The same friend, by the way, that stars in this emotional journey. There is some serious irony here.)

The pain and fear have been a bit of a distraction from the healing journey of self friendship im supposed to be on. I always blame myself when I'm in pain.

But why do I do that? Why do I want to act like I purposefully hurt myself when im the one in pain?

I think I do it so I can feel guilty about receiving help. So that instead of feeling loved that my mom helped me get dressed, I could feel ashamed and guilty for inconveniencing her.

But its not like I did it on purpose. Why would I purposefully take away my ability to do what I love? And thus, by extension, my ability to dress and shower and eat unassisted?

I want to say: I abused my body and this is the result. 'You should have been kinder to yourself, you dumbass! Look what you did! You were worried you were a burden before? Ha! Well, you sure are now! Why couldn't you value and care for yourself, you dumb b!tch? God, you disgust me.'

And you know, typing that out really puts things into perspective.

It's not my fault my body gave out under the pressure. My mom loves me and caring for me is how she shows love. It's ridiculous to think she secretly resents helping me when she is insisting on helping even with tasks I can do one-handed.

I assign such awful motives to everyone in my life so I can continue to feel unloved and unwanted. Why do I do that?

What do I gain by believing everyone secretly hates me just as much as I hate myself?

Cognitive dissonance. I get out of cognitive dissonance.

If I believe they love me, then I am worthy of love. If that's true, then I'm lying to myself when I repeat that I'm unlovable. I need to tell myself I'm unlovable so that when my feelings are hurt I can say it's my fault, not theirs and attack myself instead of them. 'Its not their fault. After all, they are already stooping to interact with a super annoying unlovable person, the fact they speak to you at all is something to be cherished. You're ungrateful AND unlovable.'

That can't be true if I admit I am loved. Thats what I gain by believing everyone secretly hates me just as much as I hate myself. It's easier for me to attack myself than to hold others accountable. To say 'my friend loves me AND she did something that really hurt me' is really hard.

See, a friend hurt me recently. And I've been doing my damndest to pretend I deserved it. My aim was to convince myself that I couldn't meet her needs, and it is only reasonable that she would get them met somewhere else. Totally reasonable. Not hurtful. Im overreacting. Lots of people get cats when they're sad. And lots of people know that they have friends who are allergic. And then those with allergies have to uphold boundaries for their health and dignity and all this is super normal and doesn't feel like being abandoned. Im fine! This isn't about me. Im bad/selfish/overdramatic for being upset that our weekly hangout at my house where we just chilled and talked and shared media together is canceled indefinitely. Its my fault anyway! If I would allow her to introduce potential cat dander into my safe space in my own home, we wouldn't have this problem!

But I am upset. I do feel hurt and unneeded and abandoned. Her actions whispered that I was right about having no redeeming qualities. That the hateful voices in my head that tell me Im worthless/unlovable/unwantable were right all along.

So, I have been crafting like a crazy person. Revisiting old crafts, learning new crafts, all the crafts! all the time! Crafts! Crafts! Crafts! Because maybe, the pretty crafts I make will apologize to the world for my existence. I want to apologize. Im so sorry, I also wish I didn't exist. I sympathize with the inconvenience.

But I did too much, and I hurt myself. And now I can't craft for a week or so. This has forced me to do some really uncomfortable thinking. I've hated it.

I asked my therapist if I was wrong to feel hurt. If I had a right to mourn the loss of our connection when I'm actually the one that stopped our hangouts? She asked what i would tell my little sister if she asked the same question.

My sister is dead. I loved her more than anything. She also had allergies and health problems. She ignored them. She hated that her body was holding her back. It's part of why she's gone.

I would have told my sister that she deserved to have her health and dignity respected. (I keep saying dignity because cats make me sneeze until I pee on myself) Then I would have made sure I could be a good friend to her while she healed from the change in that relationship.

My therapist says I have to do that for myself now. I have to be gentle and understanding and supportive to myself while I mourn.

This answer displeased me. I would much prefer continuing as I have, hating myself, and stabbing any unruly feelings with a needle. Repeatedly.

But the physical pain in my neck and the emotional discomfort of not being able to craft have convinced me that a new approach is needed. I am going to have to practice self care/compassion if I want to keep making things. This is most upsetting.