Piece by Piece by Motherf**cking Piece

Disclaimer: If real emotions make you uncomfortable, don't read this

The difference between yesterday and today ... 

I'm pretty much left with doing nothing but holding an empty stare on my face. For someone who never leaves the house outside of a trip to a store for provisions occasionally, I guess my emotions are just too intense, be it in person, in writing, or on the phone. 

When you put some time in betwixt you and a problem, pain lessens and logic enters the scene.

I kind of feel like I've been dissected into pieces like that ^^^

I do still feel this, but not at the level of intensity I did yesterday. 

Context and self talk:  

As a child, I was TOO emotional, such that the only way I could earn getting my ears pierced was to not cry for a week, complete with a poster-board chart hung in the kitchen for all to see. Bury those feels in food, damn it. Don't let anyone know you feel a fucking thing, especially as a pre-teen, especially when all those female hormones are starting to circle and whirl and boil to the surface. Just don't. 

For the most of the next two or three decades, I had ALL the feels, but mostly didn't express them without alcohol. Then, I was a dribbling idiot, by my own definition. Not a good look on anyone. I think my 30th birthday was the turning point when I stopped drinking excessively. 

I've only been truly shitfaced once since then, New Year's Eve 2018. I do not remember this. But hey, at least the hat was cute, right? 

Then, I started writing. I filled notebooks with my feelings when I figured out it was the only way to get things out of my brain. That went on for many years, until I finally got sick of hearing myself write, and figured out that it does nothing by way of productivity. That was probably 14 years ago. I burned what was left, and never did that whole "journaling" thing again. 

I also used to write long letters to people because I could not properly express myself out loud to make sure I got things said that I needed to say. Those fell on deaf ears and blind eyes. Ignore her. She'll shut up eventually. 

That's also probably about the time when I really began using foods to bury the feels. Just eat your way through it. What else is there to do? Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say because they're too busy trying micromanage HOW you say it. 

Storms are very, very silent. Until they're not. 

This is true any day of the week. 

This is mostly what I feel like at present moment, after a few months of assorted bullshit coming in from all directions. There's no shortage of names and descriptions for how others perceive me to be, after they have taken anything I say and twisted it around to mean something completely different than I meant or intended. 

I did feel fairly leveled yesterday and the day before. There has been a shitstorm of epic proportions looming overhead, kind of like the picture above. Any one of these shitstorm components, in and of itself, happening separately, fine. I could manage. When they all happen within a few minutes, days, or weeks of each other. Nah. 

Side note: Indeed - good for her: Original Quote Author

Some days, I can feel those vultures casually soaring and circling up above, just watching and waiting. 

I'm tired. I am worn down. I am emotionally drained. It doesn't pay to have feelings. It doesn't pay to trust someone to hold what you talk about in confidence or in any kind of high regard when instead, it's just stored for later use as things to throw back in my face. 

I'm not allowed to be frustrated. I'm not allowed to express said frustration. I don't have any right to grieve. I don't have any right to be insulted when someone shows me how very little they care. I don't have a right to be hurt when someone else decides to erase a significant portion of their and my history, nor do I have the right to ask them to not say one thing, one phrase. How dare I. How very dare I. 

I am overwhelmed. I am not a pillar of strength. Time and bullshit are taking their toll on my psyche, and my body, and I'm not sure how to get out, around, or through any of it. Do I handle it with grace and dignity? Absofuckinglutely not. Do I panic? Do I freeze? Do I cease to be able to think? Do I yell? Do I get upset? Do I get frustrated? ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. 

There just doesn't seem to be any happy medium when it comes to my ability to have relationships with many people (not everyone, but a large majority). I tend to attract those who would respond to simple statements of my own feelings with disgust, impunity, and a whirlwind of hatred that does not equal the statement made. OR, those who choose to be cold, calculating, unfeeling, obsessed with "The Lord Jesus Christ," and wouldn't know a hug or affection if it slapped them upside the face with a 2x4. 

If life is a pinball machine, I am the pinball. The balanced middle ground is very narrow. One side = hellfire and brimstone; Other side = frozen tundra. 

So, instead of focusing on the collective bullshite over which I have zero control, this is what I want and what I am doing for me: 

1. Art. I have the stuff, now I will use it. 

2. Yarn. I have the stuff, now I will use it. 

3. Exercise. I don't care what anyone else does, this is what I need for me. 

4. Self maintenance. Self care is a misnomer. I can't necessarily say I care what happens to me, but at least I can maintain what's left of me while I am here, right? 

5. Decluttering and engaging in some format of minimalism. 

6. Solving my own problems. Nobody is coming to save me, so it's up to me. 

As often as it enters my braincell, I don't want to take my leave of the planet. I'm far too much a coward to do anything like that anyway. I used to not be able to understand those that did, but I do, now, get it. I just don't live in that camp. However, I also realize that no matter how many times, or how many different ways I say I need help, the only one hearing me is me, and therefore, it's up to me, and only me, to get to a place where those thoughts cannot penetrate. 

I cannot control what anyone else says, thinks, believes, or chooses to do. I can only control me. I am a flawed soul, and I make mistakes daily, if not hourly, but I am trying, and I will know when I hit the mark. For now, that's all I can do.