Grinding the Gears
I am sick, and I’m tired, and I’m pissed, and it’s the holidays. This is all relatively normal.
I suppose that I have a lot of reasons for feeling why I do, as well as just plain bad luck and circumstance. Everyone tells me I don’t give myself enough credit, and I really don’t. Why? Well, it’s because I don’t feel like I’ve fixed enough yet.
Sure, I’m well on my way to working things out to a stable level and feeling reasonably satisfied, but I also don’t feel complete. Shit, I’ll probably never feel that way, but I need to at least feel like I’ve done enough, and in my mind, I haven’t.
This probably sounds like the same bullshit I usually say. “I’m gonna live better”, “I’m gonna go do this”, “I’m gonna just be me”…
Thing is, I’m insecure beyond a shadow of a doubt. No matter what I do, I’m never going to feel entirely comfortable with it. It sucks, but it’s part of what makes me who I am. By recognizing my failures, I work towards making them stronger, but it takes time, lots of time.
I’ve only JUST started really moving on from all the insanity that the last decade dropped upon me. I could spout off a few key things and it still wouldn’t be enough. People say, “everyone goes through shit.” Well, you didn’t go through the shit I did, I guarantee it. You didn’t move 24 fuckin’ times in less than 10 years, get evicted before you were even 20, have your credit score ruined because of poor economic choices by the time you were 21, have your father ask you to take out a LOAN for $20k when you’re 19 years old, not once but TWICE, and be treated like a marionette to a puppet master for years, wondering if it will ever end…
This is not even 10% of it mind you. You think you have problems? I’m sure you do, but I always have 99 more. I’m not saying that makes me any better or worse, but it certainly paints a clearer picture of my personality. It takes time to heal the kind of damage I have. I am scarred, and I have emotional baggage that I hide in order to not place the burden on others. I work with a Therapist every week trying to navigate the strange, dark places that reside within my shattered mind.
No, I’m not proud of myself, even if I have reason to be. I’m pissed, I’m broken, and I’m sad.
You really think you know me? You don’t. I don’t even know myself.
Dramatic Karmatic Shift
I am not who I once was, nor am I who I am right now. I am an ever-changing entity with a fractured sub-conscious thought process.
I write like flies fuck; loud and full of bravado.
Change is here with me. Why not? It was bound to happen one day. It was meant to be. Ease it is not, but it IS easier.
Lack of Unhappy/Depressing thoughts. Fitter. Happier. More Productive.
But I am not a pig, in a cage, on antibiotics, covered in it’s own fecal matter.
Time to break out.