Yesterday I hinted at the fact that I’m learning a lot about myself and about how I think. And even as I write this all down I’m still arguing with myself about whether or not I’m right or if I’m just trying to force myself into a box, a label, a way to understand the things that I struggle with. But I do feel broken, and I think I’ve figured out what’s wrong. Continue reading It’s okay to be broken.
There’s a reason why I avoid romance movies and novels. Actually, there’s probably more than one reason why I avoid them, but mostly I avoid them because they either make me feel like I’m going to be alone forever because I cannot find a love like that, or they have their own tragic sad ending, reinforcing that even when a person finds love the universe is too heartless to let that beauty and love exist. Then I get filled with a sense of sadness, and, if left unchecked, I can start crying at the drop of a hat for a few days afterward.
For example, it was a romance movie that caused me to cry last. I watched The Best of Me last night with my roommate and by the end of the movie we were both blubbering. (There will be spoilers, so you may want to skip this post if that’s an issue for you.) Continue reading Day 27: The Last Time I Cried
Around I go again
Hiding from myself the truth in an unanswered lie.
Warm hands and dark eyes reaching into the soul of me to rip out
A part that cannot hide.
The part of me that needs to be seen,
The part of me that needs to feel loved and worn:
A façade of truth that hides all the lies I tell myself.
The part of me that loosens itself willingly to be taken up by another
One whom I have known and not known from the beginning of time.
Links of tarnished chain hold firmly connected to
This empty shell
With all my soul in the hands of another.
The clinking clanking jingle of my truth tugging free
I have become inside out,
The flesh of my deepest self, bright and bleeding.
You offer me a band aid and say it’s all my fault.
I am the liar,
Hiding the truth,
Clinking, clanking, jingling in your hands.
My truth you wear like a glove,
The length and breadth of you twisting and contorting it to your own means.
Words misspoken become a truth unseen before,
Sharp as razor blades ripping into the bleeding flesh of
My soul, exposed and torn,
Held together by your band aid words
That shame me into compliance to your will.
A chain twisting in your hands,
The leash of lies by which you drag me through the mud
Until there is no me left.
And no, I’m not referring to my home, which I promised to post pictures of by Pi day (March 14th). Ages ago, I had created these nice, neat little categories on the left side of the screen to sort all my posts. Seems, true to my Gemini nature, that I can’t stay on one topic for very long, or else I get bored…
Well, I finally got around to organizing them. Some of the older posts only fit into the “Just One Cup” category. Apparently, in the early stages of this blog, I was just doing things like reviews and venting… a lot of venting!
It was a bit of fun to go back and see some of the older things, to see how my view has changed in the 2 years since I started this thing.
For instance, in “Five Things I’ve learned from being Adopted,” I talk about, you guessed it, being adopted, but I also started to discuss the being “chosen” aspect of adoption that in more recent years I’ve identified as some of the cause of my abandonment issues.
I’m beginning to think that what they say about history repeating itself, might just be true…
There are certain things I don’t usually talk about because I feel like I’m admitting something is wrong with me if I let other people know. For instance, *I* can know that I like the Ewok movie better than the whole original Star Wars Trilogy (for sentimental reasons), but I don’t often say it out loud for fear I will lose some of my “Geek cred,” as a friend of mine says. And apparently today is the day for confessions, so I’m starting off big!
As if that wasn’t a big enough confession, the thing I really wanted to talk about today was Seasonal Depression.
I sometimes fall prey to seasonal depression. I sometimes see how grey and cold and nasty it is outside, and that grey and cold and nasty feeling seeps inside of me and makes me not care about things I should.
I stop cleaning.
I stop eating healthy.
I quit caring about work.
I find most things just too hard to do.
I don’t throw things out. I let the mess pile around me until my room or (as happened this time) my entire apartment looks like it belongs to the Trash Lady muppet from The Labyrinth.
When this happens, I usually can’t see the best place to start. I clean one room, usually a small one like the bathroom or the kitchen. It’s something that makes me feel like I’ve made some sort of progress, because I believe that any progress will motivate me to get the rest of it done. And if I’ve caught it early enough, it does! I can successfully pick everything up, and there will be no problems… until the next grey and cold and nasty series of days or weeks. In Texas, we don’t have that much cold and nasty weather, so I can usually catch it fairly quick.
Sometimes, I just don’t. Continue reading Confessions of Depression and Other Things