Gaze

"I don't regret things." And then I look back, and I re-read my writing, and I realize that years ago I told myself what I was doing. And promptly buried that concern in doing all those things. I feel shame, but not regret. Because I don't regret things.

I excel at the 5 paragraph essay. Tell what you are going to say, say it, tell what you said. It's so clean. I created a version of myself that is so clean. I created a version of myself that gets up at 4am to work, that reads non-fiction, that arrives to things on time...that breaks down and falls apart because it's not me, and I feel "lost" "lonely" "confused" "_______". I CAN do it all, I tell myself. I can. "I need to be right and I will make it that way," I tell myself, my soft heart hidden below all my walls and to do lists.

"Write for yourself." Me writing for myself is self-flagellation. The voice in my head tears apart each thing I write until there is nothing there. It's a strength and a weakness, I tell myself...the stories I tell myself. I am critical and thoughtful and reflective.

You overthink, he told me. You're too deep.

How long did it take to build this wall? How long does it take to break it down?

even though...

I look back over everything I wrote in the past 6 months, and over and over again, I told myself to go home.

[2/26]: I have been blaming this feeling on New York, but maybe that's unfair. This emptiness in my chest, when it feels like all the warmth is gone. Like nothing is sitting right. I can feel the knot in the bottom of my throat; my emotions sit right there, with no layer to protect them.

I grasp for easy coping mechanisms...I scroll through other people's thoughts and pictures, looking for something that feels right. I call people I love, hoping it will be *that* conversation where we connect. I have started reading again, but that's risky. Sometimes books wrap me up, and other times books strip me down and disclose my fears. It hit me today as I scrolled that I wasn't just looking - I was looking FOR something. I was looking for a quote or a picture or an experience that made me feel less alone. It's why coming home to Nala is the best part of my day. Her eyes love me without requirements. But then I take her outside, and she's cold and scared, and the knot rises and exposes again.

This city makes me feel more. This city exhausts me. This city forces me to be brave, it forces me to care so much. But I haven't found the right things to soften the experience.

"Go, even though you love him.
Go, even though you once said you would stay.
Go, even though you don't know exactly why you can't stay.
Go, because you want to.
Because wanting to leave is enough."

And that's the thing - it's about softening the experience. It's not about forcing it to work, about putting one foot in front of the other, about doing what I said I would do. It's about joy and love and healing and all the other cliche sounding healthy wholesome feelings.

Babble

strength to endure whatever it takes to make it work/
the fear of letting go of control

introversion, boundaries, and skepticism/
the fear of not being loved

intuition for others' reactions and enough humility to apologize often/
the fear of losing love because I am weak, or because I made a mistake

hiding/half awake [12/2018]

I call it "anxiety" - this gripping feeling that takes over my chest as I feel my heart softening. (It's not anxiety.) It's like my ribs are straining to grow over this newly vulnerable piece of me as my emotions try to push themselves out. How can you feel two things so different at the same time? So strong and so weak, so scared but so brave.

I've been trying to do all this "work" - I tell myself that what matters is the concrete, the actions, the interactions. I let myself hide my emotions because, quite frankly, they make me tired. Have you felt what it feels like to let your heart out of your ribs? To let it grow? To let it break? To let it grow and break again, every day, every few hours.

Does everyone have the same capacity for love? Do some people love harder love, deeper? Is it because they can, or because they let themselves?

It's time to stop telling myself I'm working on the people around me. I need to be honest and make myself better.

"There were things
you wanted to tell me
and there were things
I was dying to say

But you were scared
and my voice faltered
so we both sewed our lips shut
and buried it away."

Artichokes

I like to think that the edge is just more well rounded, rather than gone altogether. At least that's what I tell myself when I look back at how I used to write - raw, honest, emotional, introspective... adolescent. Childish. I'm grown up now, haven't you heard? Blogs and emotions went out of style around the time I stopped wearing leather jackets and Madonna-esque cross earrings...or maybe they were never really acceptable, at all. I got internships, grew out my "I can cut my hair however I want" bangs, and stopped writing.

I have a love-hate relationship with moderation. I think I always have. I write what I feel and put it in quotes so it seems like I'm self-aware and questioning. I say what I'm thinking (not because I can't help myself - because I want to) and then I follow it up with rational analysis: "don't worry, I'm not actually feeling anything, I was just having a moment of weakness for these perfectly understandable reasons..."

Weakness. A moment of weakness. Is being honest about emotions a strength, or a weakness? I want to ask why I am more comfortable with analytical writing, but everyone knows: it hides you. Even a strong opinion paper is about something that isn't, well, me. So I "write" about things that don't touch me, and when I really feel something, I use other people's words. Other people's thoughts, other people's feelings, and my own internal frustration that I'm too wrapped up in figuring out if it's ok to write about it to ever get to actually write about it.

...

Hangover

“Trust is a confusing thing; it seems so simple but when you try to pin it down, it can be elusive. I think of the way that my body sits on a surface that’s new to me, unknown, and how my muscles remain tight, anticipating anything, and I’m constantly aware of that surface. Over time I can relax, and start to lean back. For many of us, that initial tension exists so much of the time. We expend so much energy watching and calculating, trying to predict. Reading signals in people, ready for anything to change suddenly…preparing to be disappointed. So much energy spent.

We talk about trust as something you build, as if it’s a structure or a thing. But in that building, there seems to be something about letting go. What it affords us is a luxury that allows us to stop thinking, to stop worrying that someone won’t catch us if we fall, to stop scanning for inconsistencies, to stop wondering how other people act when they’re not in our presence. It allows us to relax a part of our minds so that we can focus on what’s in front of us.

And that’s why it’s such a tragedy when it’s broken. A betrayal can make you think of all the other betrayals that are waiting for you and things that you haven’t thought of, and people you rely on. And you can feel yourself tightening up, bracing. And in the worst cases, you might resolve to trust no one. But that doesn’t really work. Trust is your relationship to the unknown, to what you can’t control – and you can’t control everything.

And it’s not all or none. It’s a slow and steady practice of learning about the capacity of the world – and it’s worth it to keep trying. And it’s not easy.”

Little Numbers

"Heart's terrain is never a prairie, but you weren't wary."

My expectations are low and my walls are high. You were never afraid, though...

Please don't be like the rest.