Jul 12, 2021
4 mins read
As most of you know - because I don't hide it at all - I've been having a rough go of it lately. Mentally and emotionally speaking, I feel a lot like undercooked spaghetti; just a little bit close to snapping. Maybe that isn't the best comparison but you understand what I'm saying. I'm going to assume you do so I can move the fuck on.
The last few weeks have been a rollercoaster of emotions; I'll wake up and feel great, then one tiny thing happens and my mind flings itself down a spiral of anxiety, like a goddamn lemming. Sometimes I wake up ready to set everything on fire. And on rare days, everything goes well or better and I go to bed with a dumbass smile on my face.
I have never, in my entire fucked up, weird-ass life been this emotionally inconsistent/unstable. It makes me angry with myself despite knowing it stems from trauma. I know, logically, that I am enough and worthy of love and acceptance, and I know I'm a pretty cool guy who doesn't afraid of anything, but... but... there are days when what I want to set on fire is myself.
Or at least my brain. But that would just get messy and honestly the last thing I need right now is a big mess to clean up.
Last week, I got my second vax shot. I mention this because it means a lot of my fears of exposing my parents to the virus have been allayed and I can venture into the real world to find myself a doctor. It's the next terrifying step in this god-forsaken journey to healing but I want to do it because I'm pretty sick of who I am right now.
I need to get back to some semblance of myself - or, dare I say it, a better version? - or I really will end up in a Netflix documentary not looking cute. I want to get back my idealism, optimism, and relentless faith in people. I want to get back to the version of myself that I know is deeply loving and capable of surviving some pretty gnarly shit. Right now, I'm a shadow of that person, my mind is constantly scattered, I'm having trouble focusing on anything other than engaging with friends on Twitter and half-watching TV. I have become a dumb.
But what's frustrating me the most is how I'm reacting when things with people I care about surpass the platonic stage. I've been running away. A lot. A lot, a lot. I've put up walls, rebuffed perfectly wonderful people, and just convinced myself I'm a trash panda with nothing to offer but headaches. [Disclaimer: I will forever remain a trash panda who offers headaches, but I will offer good things too. Maybe. That's the goal because I have biG DrEaMs].
So here's The Thing About It All:
I mentioned this in a tweet the other day but it bears repeating: I am in love with the way I love. People, fff- honestly, I love so well. Sure, I have my shortcomings (ha, dirty) but I also make up for it with Deadpool levels of effort i.e. maximum. I consistently try to do and be better for my partner because what's the point otherwise? If I'm not going to make sure they feel loved, safe, and supported, what's the fucking point? I'm a hopeless romantic. Utterly cheesy, hopeless, dumbass romantic.
And that's the issue, I think. This trauma has given me trust issues I haven't had to deal with in a very long time, things I thought I'd completely overcome. I worked so hard to build myself up enough to never feel worried about infidelity or unworthiness, and now I judge myself against every other woman (you're all amazing by the way and I fucking mean it), convinced I fall short in every regard. Of course, it's partly because I'm not actually in a relationship so... there's nothing stable to hold on to. I just hope to fucking God that once someone shows up and wants me enough to be with me, I'll have crushed that niggling little worm at the back of my mind. If I haven't, I just hope I'll be well on my way to crushing it.
This all hinges on the universe sending me someone with the patience of a saint though and the willingness to accept that I may never fully heal, and I will have frustrating flaws that I may not be able to handle every time. And with how life is now a hellscape on a polluted ball hurtling to an inevitable heat death, I feel like it's asking for a bit much from another human, ya know? So I'm struggling to choose between waiting for that or just closing myself off for a hermit life with a pack of dogs who will probably be happy to eat me after I die.
Anyway, I just needed to whine so... here, have some cheese with it.