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sorcyressOf course by now you've all figured out that I don't have any interest in actually making my Half-Naked Thursday posts on an actual Thursday. This is because I can't get the hang of Thursdays, also, by Thursday I will be in California and possibly not at all willing to be in a mood to make slightly depressing posts. Anyways.
This month has sucked, kindof a lot, brainwise. I feel like all the progress I have inch-by-mental-inch been making has just slipped between my fingers, and I'm right back to being this scared little eleven year old girl who kinda wonders what it's like to not have to exist any longer, only with the added benefit of a decade more to worry about.
It's problematic, especially when it boils down to the fact that I can't really love myself right now, and that exacerbates everything else, meaning I'm having a lot of trouble finding even enough stability to keep going through the days. I don't know, maybe this is all just backlash from starting therapy again1 and thereby being seriously introspective on a regular basis for the first time in a long time. But this month has been just awful. I feel small and lost and scared, and the world is demanding I be capable.
And so yesterday in math class (when I should have been paying better attention because I am really not good at modular arithmetic.) I made an art:
The bottom, which is the only part you should be able to read, says "These are some of the lies I think of as true." There's a little self-portrait of myself in the lower right. It's not quite my usual style of how I draw myself --indeed, I think it's a little more accurate, both in appearance and mood. And while I don't curl up *quite* that way when something deep inside my brain Hurts, I do curl, wrapping myself around that spot behind my sternum where I think of my Self as existing.
The text at the top says...a lot of things.
A _lot_ of things. I just counted, I think there are 92 things in there. That would be ninety-two things that I can identify as lies that I absolutely believe are true --oh sure, not all the time. Not always. But they are things that my mind says and society says and the world says, and it's often enough that I can't help but think maybe everyone else is right.
(This is, if you saw me at Diesel or squares and was asking, why my wrist says "Stop Lying" right now)
A few of them are silly, most of them are serious, and a couple of them are something close to dangerous. It's okay. Part of the point of making it was to have a specific listing of faulty beliefs, something I could look at and say "ah yes, that is wrong, how foolish of me".
I just wish it weren't so damn hard. I just wish I weren't so damn broken.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: I last talked to a therapist in early 2007 --she and I parted ways a little after kSatyr and I started dating, for unrelated reasons. My biggest failing is that I never trusted her, and while she helped with a couple little things (and the getting me diagnosed with ADHD, which was a _huge_ thing) there was not a lot she could do with me. I went into this round with the assumption that I could tell my therapist basically everything, and so I basically have --only exceptions are Hyde (because it is very different to admit to having voices in your head that help you out and to admit to having voices in your head that tell you to kill) and some of the more serious kink stuff (because I don't want to freak her out by being too TMI, and also because I don't know that I can accurately explain some of the power dynamics that I crave.)
Comment Policy: Comments that are just "*hugs*" or any variation will be purged. Sorry, but I'm fucking serious about this, they will not make me feel better, and I do not want to have to deal with them. At all, and if you can't understand that, at least try to respect it.
This month has sucked, kindof a lot, brainwise. I feel like all the progress I have inch-by-mental-inch been making has just slipped between my fingers, and I'm right back to being this scared little eleven year old girl who kinda wonders what it's like to not have to exist any longer, only with the added benefit of a decade more to worry about.
It's problematic, especially when it boils down to the fact that I can't really love myself right now, and that exacerbates everything else, meaning I'm having a lot of trouble finding even enough stability to keep going through the days. I don't know, maybe this is all just backlash from starting therapy again1 and thereby being seriously introspective on a regular basis for the first time in a long time. But this month has been just awful. I feel small and lost and scared, and the world is demanding I be capable.
And so yesterday in math class (when I should have been paying better attention because I am really not good at modular arithmetic.) I made an art:
The bottom, which is the only part you should be able to read, says "These are some of the lies I think of as true." There's a little self-portrait of myself in the lower right. It's not quite my usual style of how I draw myself --indeed, I think it's a little more accurate, both in appearance and mood. And while I don't curl up *quite* that way when something deep inside my brain Hurts, I do curl, wrapping myself around that spot behind my sternum where I think of my Self as existing.
The text at the top says...a lot of things.
A _lot_ of things. I just counted, I think there are 92 things in there. That would be ninety-two things that I can identify as lies that I absolutely believe are true --oh sure, not all the time. Not always. But they are things that my mind says and society says and the world says, and it's often enough that I can't help but think maybe everyone else is right.
(This is, if you saw me at Diesel or squares and was asking, why my wrist says "Stop Lying" right now)
A few of them are silly, most of them are serious, and a couple of them are something close to dangerous. It's okay. Part of the point of making it was to have a specific listing of faulty beliefs, something I could look at and say "ah yes, that is wrong, how foolish of me".
I just wish it weren't so damn hard. I just wish I weren't so damn broken.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: I last talked to a therapist in early 2007 --she and I parted ways a little after kSatyr and I started dating, for unrelated reasons. My biggest failing is that I never trusted her, and while she helped with a couple little things (and the getting me diagnosed with ADHD, which was a _huge_ thing) there was not a lot she could do with me. I went into this round with the assumption that I could tell my therapist basically everything, and so I basically have --only exceptions are Hyde (because it is very different to admit to having voices in your head that help you out and to admit to having voices in your head that tell you to kill) and some of the more serious kink stuff (because I don't want to freak her out by being too TMI, and also because I don't know that I can accurately explain some of the power dynamics that I crave.)
Comment Policy: Comments that are just "*hugs*" or any variation will be purged. Sorry, but I'm fucking serious about this, they will not make me feel better, and I do not want to have to deal with them. At all, and if you can't understand that, at least try to respect it.
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Agh
on 2010-11-18 04:38 am (UTC)I'm sorry.
*hug*1
1. Yes, you get a hug in there.2
2. Utterly unrepentant.
Re: Agh
on 2010-11-21 04:28 am (UTC)I should probably make a post about this one, because it is a thing I find myself having to say occasionally to people I like.
I enjoy hearing what's going on in people's lives. Problems, drama, excitement, good things, bad things, I like knowing what's going on, and I like being able to help if I can, or listen if I can't.
Moreover, listening to other people is an amazing distraction from whatever is going on in my life. If my life is going well, I get to share their joy. If my life is going poorly, then I get a healthy distraction, and can focus on someone else's problems for a while, and then when I return to my life, I am coming from a better base-mood in the first place.
You sure as hell weren't "moaning about your trivial problems". There are things that hurt you, and there are things that hurt me, but I don't play misery-dick contests, and so trying to figure out which of us has it "worse" is a useless proposition. You have just as much a right to be hurt, and just as much a right to talk about the sad things in your life as I do -and it doesn't matter if we're comparing amputations to papercuts or what.
I do hide things well in person, sometimes. There's a reason for this --a fair amount of the ways I'm fucked up focus on the fact that I can't accept help, or take affection or strength or emotional energy from people --and no, them telling me "of course you can!" doesn't make it easier. I really honestly don't want to share my life in person most of the time. I wish I could do that, but it's just not feasible. I need my walls, be they electronic or otherwise.
So, to sum up: I continue to be messed up. Never apologize for telling me your problems unless I actively asked you not to. Even if someone is more hurt, all people have just as much a right to complain. And for gods sakes, if I am in pain, I want the distraction of someone else's pain --the lemonade tastes different, and sometimes that's all it takes.
~Sor