Hard truths

The last few months of self discovery have been super odd. Like a wound healing. Immensely painful, but somehow getting better.

One of the things I’m learning is how much parts of myself are at odds with each other. Being an only child and used to being by myself, I’m really attuned to being lonely. It’s always sucked but I’ve sort of gotten used to it.

Another part I’m getting to know is an intense desire to belong. I’ve never been a joiner and yeah, I generally don’t like most people. But two really important people have pointed out to me lately: I seem to keep putting myself in situations that allow me to be my overly sincere, and less guarded self.

It’s weird. I didn’t realize people have been seeing that aspect of me.

That’s all I’ve got. No big conclusion. Yet.

This isn’t a Patsy Cline song. Or a Seal song. Or a Gnarls Barkley song.

This is not a pretty post. Not that they ever are, but it’s one I need to write.

Today I researched in-patient mental health facilities.

I feel like I’ve failed at my own life. That I have nothing left keeping me anywhere. That there are people fighting and struggling to help me help myself and I just don’t have the energy to do it.

Please bear in mind that I think I researched these facilities because at the core of this, I do want something keeping me somewhere. I do want something to fight for. But I feel that I’ve lost that.

I haven’t gotten stronger since surviving my surgery. I haven’t found resolve after losing what I thought was love. I haven’t dug deep and found some sort of purpose.

I’ve struggled. My chronic migraines have devolved into constant musculoskeletal pain. My brain feels like a traitor to me.

I feel like I don’t know how to accomplish a normal life, because I don’t know what I’m trying to accomplish. How do you know what happiness feels like if you’ve never felt it? How do you know how to find it when it feels like your whole body is conspiring against it?

Something has to change or something has to end. For now, I’m holding on for others. Because I know that others would suffer. I know that’s wrong. I should want to fix things for me, but that’s not enough right now. I don’t care about failing myself, but I care that my girls, that The Moms, that The Doc would feel like they failed.

This is now. I’m just trying to make sure it’s not forever.

Giving realness

I need to talk more about this “nothing is real unless it’s in your face” business.

I recognize the cognitive dissonance that comes with writing on the internet about how things on the internet aren’t real.

But it’s a truth that needs to be addressed. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s formed bonds with people through twitter, facebook, 4chan, or whatever the kids are doing these days (snapchat???) and thought, “wow, so-and-so gets me”. They might. You may be one of the few people who connects with someone digitally and it works. I know that I’ve met people who have changed my life for the better THROUGH the internet.

Here’s the rub: those relationships (friendships, sex, whatever) are NOT REAL. Nothing is real until you’re in each others faces. Until you exchange ideas and you can see exactly what that person is saying. Not what they’ve carefully typed and deleted and re-typed.

As with all things when it comes to me, I base these observations on things that are happening in my life. I guess I’m typing this to say the somewhat harsh, but nonetheless true statement. If only as a reminder to myself:

You are not a person. You are a set of numbers and characters. Until you choose to be different, you remain that. YOU ARE NOT REAL.

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