Hello, my lovely people! I know I’m in a bit of a rough spot right now and I thank you all for your patience. I am slowly getting back into working out and I really want to take a self defense class. I’m currently reading Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. It’s an interesting read, for sure. I have officially read 4 books for my current TVP and Quiet is the 5th. I don’t know how long I’ve been doing this and I honestly don’t care because my brain is getting full. I may take a short break after the next one to organize my notes a bit. Or not. I probably won’t be organized until all my books are read. Well, the one’s I have lined up to read. Which is 9 more, give or take.
Right then, onto the issue at hand. I’ve been having flashbacks today. I hate flashbacks. I hate that I hate them. I hate that I know what they are from firsthand experience. And I really hate that it can be hard for me to come down from being ‘activated’. (They call it hyperarousal, but that doesn’t sit right with me so I call it being ‘activated’. Same thing, different name.)
My emotions have been all over the place with it. The thought of the thought sends me into a tailspin whirl. I’m guessing that’s why I’ve been so withdrawn and angsty lately. I’m feeling out of control and I’m desperately trying to get back control, even if that control is a lie.
I’m throwing myself into this research thing I’m doing because I can control that. I did the purging thing the other day because I ‘control’ that. (I don’t. My eating disorder tends to control me and I’m doing better, but obviously tiny relapses are going to happen and I’m not going to beat myself up over it.) I sometimes force myself to stay awake because I can’t control my dreams. I don’t like eating out. I don’t like going outside of my set routine.
I got all bent out of shape because Okaasan mentioned something about the amount of bread I’ve been eating and it bothers me that, no matter how many times I’ve told her about my eating disorder and not to fucking mention my eating habits, she does so anyway. It bothers me so fucking much. If I commented on the amount of shit she eats she gets all huffy and defensive so I don’t understand why she feels she can do so to me.
Fuck it. Fuckety fuck fuck fuck it.
I’m just so tired right now. I don’t want to do therapy. I’m deeply terrified of doing therapy, especially this therapy. I feel like I’m going to die or explode or implode or something.
Which of course means I’m going to keep forcing myself to go and to ‘attempt’. One thing I’ve learned is that the more afraid I am of a thing, the more I’m letting that thing have control over me. And I refuse to let anyone or anything control me anymore. My life. My rules.
It’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to be frozen stiff with fear for a few moments, even. This isn’t a fight or flight issue. This is a learning to be like bamboo. Bamboo is strong and yet it bends in the wind. It is not so stubborn as to allow itself to break, nor is it too unstable to hold itself high. And yes, I did steal that from Mulan II.
Did I tell you guys that Charon called me brave? I don’t see how I’m brave. I’m not brave. I’m not courageous or bold or daring. I’m not.
I am stubborn. I am stubborn and I’m willful and brash and terribly obstinate.
But I think I’m more determined than anything else. I like adventure and when I set my sights on something I do what I can to achieve that. I don’t like to sit back and let others dictate what I can or cannot do. I like to set my own path and do my own thing and think my own way.
And I can’t do that with all this shit from my past eating me up inside, tainting everything I do. I’ve been calling these things “Soul Mold”. It’s stuff that I’ve locked away, deep inside and that I don’t really talk about all that much and so it just festers. It feeds off the shame and fear and blame and really just self-perpetuates a feeding cycle to just keep growing and this is the time that I’ve finally gone enough.
Time to kill it so I can be a stronger person. Let it out into the let and to break it up bit by bit and clean it all out so I don’t have that mold anymore. So I can look at myself and say that there was an attempt and I accomplished shit.
And then I can really start learning who I really am without all this shit bogging me down.
-The Sarcastic Autist