Remembering to…

Remember to remember.
I’m still out here, somewhere. I’ll write soon. 

Just…tired.

 Too tired to share the thoughts lately. 

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Looking In…

…But never seeing out again.

With me, everything is “Private” – Private to the point I don’t share when I am in serious need of outside help, understanding or advice. I don’t even share when I’m in pain, because… you guessed it… it’s “private”.

I don’t share readily – the one person I share the most with is my boyfriend and even he feels I’m closed up half the time. He doesn’t press me… He knows I’ll share, eventually… partly. I think he knows I never share completely, and I justify it as ‘reasons’, but really… “private”. He knows how I am. Clearly he’s accepted it. (We don’t share a household. I would have to be far more open in that circumstance because I would have to be.)

As I told him today, one of the reasons I am so ‘closed’ is, his is the only opinion that matters. I don’t want him to know when I have trouble because I don’t want it to alter his opinion of me. I should know better than to think it does, but that’s the way I feel about it.

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Growing Up…

…All over again.

So, I am sure I haven’t mentioned it because well, basically I’ve been avoiding everything in life since that time, but I had a catastrophic event happen in October 2016 – I was standing in a mall in San Antonio, Texas attempting to use an ATM to buy what turned out to be a horrible breakfast. Seriously, even the coffee was bad; but it seems like it was indicative of what was to come.

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Time And Contemplation…

…And cleaning up the mess therein. 
I often find myself saying “but people wouldn’t understand”.  I am sure that may seem self indulgent and narcissistic, as if my problems are *so* much that no one could possibly relate. 

No. That’s not really it. That’s not how I mean it. I think, really, more of what’s going on is I don’t relate to how other people handle problems. I’m not faulting “others”, as I’m the odd man out. I see a similar behavior in others which I don’t possess. I really do not know how to ask for help and when I do try to ask for help, I tend to fail pretty epically at it.

Sometimes, I think I should talk to some one, go visit a therapist. The problem is, however, I am not sure I am ready to let these demons out. Yea, no. I’m not ready to walk with them, and likely, by the time I may be ready, they will be in the past… 

…and I don’t visit the past readily. The past if gone, and I’m over it. 

I may not need that therapist after all. I probably just have to get through today

That Thing Again…

…Or The Places Where We Come Back To.

 

I didn’t realize it hasn’t been as long as I thought since I last posted. Fact of the matter is, I forgot I even HAVE a blog and I last remember updating in June.

It’s really been a rough several of months. I seem to keep saying that, but perhaps it’s because it keeps being true.

I am finding my self in a condition, in a place, I never imagined I would be in. It’s terrifying to me. I feel that every little thing is final, and indicative of something much larger, however my logical brain knows that can not really be the truth.

I also find it really, universally, unfair – because I never took anything for granted, I never felt myself above anything or anyone else’s circumstances.

I know, also, I can not move forward with that mind set. It isn’t a matter of what is right or fair or even HOW it happened or laying blame; it’s a matter of realizing where you are and making a decision rather you want to be there or not and what you have to do to change it.

Period.

The Screams We Silence…

…And the ones we let go.
Laying here at 4am, I realized something about me. 

I am thinking of a pain, a pain I took from someone else and told him he didn’t have a right to it. I very selfishly made a shared pain my own, to no real end. 

I took that pain, and I opened the bin of feeling and I shoved it down, stuffed it way down to the bottom. 

I covered those feelings with life and escapism, alcohol and bad dreams. 

I figured I could always outrun it without really trying. 

Sometimes, sometimes it manifests as two and a half weeks driving around Ireland, solo, pretending I am escaping another, fresher pain. However, I know one is related to the other because I created it that way and never really denied it.

Or…

It’s running off to Iceland for two weeks…

…next up is Greenland. 

And I get why.

Because when it’s cold, with a chill that sometimes remembers to cut through you, you are numb. You don’t have to feel. You can scream out over a frozen tundra and it won’t echo back. Frozen, blue and silent too. 

You get used to it.

I did this once, with a different pain, to the mountains of Greece. Camping and adventuring. The problem, however, with mountains is…

…they echo back. They will tell your secrets. It’s as if your pain won’t let you escape. 

You can’t escape it anyway.