Waiting and counting the hours until my next therapy session so I can finally spill out everything…everything I’ve been carefully keeping a hold of. Everything I don’t want spilling over onto the unsuspecting and innocent people in my life.
That isn’t fair…
The little inconveniences that feel astronomical inside my chest…
The anxiety-inducing moments that make it seem my life is this magnet for stressors….
What’s worse is the situations make me feel crazy.
I’m questioning my emotions with every little shift.
“Is it me???”
I am so tired of keeping things balanced and caged in; I’m holding my breath until I can let it all go…
It’s incredible how much love you can have for animals (for me it is dogs in particular) when their language is expressed mainly in body language that you have had to learn through attention and time.
Even more incredible is that you know they love you too. As they sleep next to me, and press both their paws into my side (doesn’t always feel pleasant) I feel their contentment and trust. I’m honored that of all the people, they picked me.
Nature has its way of clearing stagnant energy I carry around, emerging clear and reconfigured. What I hold in my heart, so often heavy and sharp, is lightened and dulled…sometimes even made smaller, by the rich colors and earthy smells.
The people in my life all have either brought something in or have taken something…& if I were to take a bird’s eye view of it, might see it was an equal giving and taking, cyclical much like nature…however I’m too deep in the woods and the taking seems to acquire more attention.
Being off of my medication has caused this influx of emotion…& the stinging words and actions of others cause such a painful reaction that I have retreated into this shell of protection. Familiar to me from before I started my zombie-like state of existence. However my shell is boring on the outside on purpose…no one likes boring. In fact they leave it alone…and for someone with a mental health illness, sometimes being left alone is as necessary as it is painful. We don’t want to be lonely, but loneliness keeps you from getting hurt from others at a time when you don’t have the energy or strength to process it.
Getting older is kind of awesome in a way. Things take a different shape, and I hold value in gentleness. Being here at 32 is eye-opening. So far into being an adult that mistakes are less-forgivable, mainly to myself.
The vincibility of life, and the shortness of it helps to rid myself mentally of things that really have no stake in life at the end. That being said, I still really like shoes.
These thoughts, now written have made some room so I can let the interrupted sleep take over once more…..