to become a stone
the queen of water is about being the support others need.
the nine of rings is about how i've worked hard and deserve to yield the fruits of that labor. cool and perhaps even true maybe.
yesterday, i had an awful morning. i forgot my lexapro in the morning, i forgot my glasses leaving the house, and then i had my psych appointment. i cannot wait to read and share those notes, but i got a sour lemons face a good few times when i described my past and what had happened to me as a kid. i think it kind of made me realize that your average person does not go through what i did. and that your average person does not expect to hear the sort of things i was saying. it's hard for me to fully comprehend, because my past just feels. like it is. i even said in the appointment, i would not go back and change anything, because i wouldn't be me anymore. at the end of the appointment, i said "oh, so i probably have CPTSD?" and they go
no. Not probably.
fuck
lol
well i knew that. im introspective enough to already have a pretty decent idea of whats going on with me, i look into this stuff compulsively, if i'm getting put on a new med, or there's something im interested in knowing more about, i will read and read and read. i don't like not being in control of the things i do to myself. i think that much should be obvious from what i say and do, yeah?
it was that, and that i was told i display traits of adhd and autism in my mannerisms and such, and it's like yeah, i knew that too. and some traits of OCD. the OCD could be trauma related, though, so who knows.
i think in some weird way, it hit me being told that i was traumatized. like, again, i knew that, but having a professional tell me to my face that with no uncertainty whatsoever they were 100% certain that i had cptsd just kind of made me go. oh. yeah. i guess i am fucked up, huh? the things people did to me as a kid hurt me forever, and that's just how it is. i want to move past it all, but it's hard. it's hard to act like being taken advantage of for your entire childhood didn't fuck you up. it's hard to pretend that you're normal when you just aren't. and will never be. because you can't be. you don't restart. you can't restart. your life is what it is. there's no ifs. i hate the word if.
oh, well if x happened, maybe i wouldn't y.
cool. what's that do for you? that thought, going forward, what does it do?
if you're thinking it for any reason other than future growth, to avoid the same mistake, you're wasting your time.
i don't want to be diagnosed. but i do, of course. very much. i want to have someone confirm what i've always known is wrong with me. because then it feels real.
i never believed i was depressed. in my worst moments, where i'd never do anything fun, where i'd isolate myself constantly, where i'd push others away, i wasn't depressed. it was some other shit. i meant it, honestly. it sounds silly to say now, but i fully believed i had a "fake depression" because it wasn't, yknow, debilitating. i got up. i went to class. i went home. i slept. repeat. but then it got worse, and it continued to get worse and worse. getting up became a chore, going to class made me feel like a robot, coming home was the means to an end of going back to sleep, to not have to think about being alive until the world decided to ruin things by waking me back up. i never wanted to.
sometimes, i still don't. and all of this was supplemented by random acts of cutting. when i woke up? slice my wrist. when i started to spiral in class? pop into the bathroom and put a few bandaids on my wrists that weren't there before. can't sleep? slice up my thigh. and that was it, and that's what i did. every day. this was before i felt the way i do now about it, and i still can't describe to you if this was an act of self punishment or a means to feel anything, to maybe feel like i was in control of the routines in my life somehow by showing myself and others that i could do what i wanted to myself. maybe it's because i liked it, because i wanted to, but i didn't get the pseudo joy that i do now out of it then. it wasn't enjoyable for me. it just was.
a lot in my life just was. i would just take it. everyone wanted me to be something, so i played my part. i was just a copy of what others liked in people, what made them want to speak to others. i had no worth outside of what i could do for them. i was not a person, i was an object. i had internality, but i suppressed it. others didn't want that, they wanted someone to be horny towards, someone who would be receptive to their stuff and wouldnt complain.
people wanted a stone, so i became a stone. i'd be whatever they wanted me to be, so that they'd like me. and the traits i exhibit now were still there, still prevalent, but i suppressed them to the point i didn't realize they existed, or that they were out of the ordinary. but i don't want to be a stone anymore.
i want to be me. i don't want to be afraid of being hated, i don't want to be afraid of being loved. i want to be myself wholly.
can this ever happen for me?
i don't know.
i won't stop until i find out.
ID crisis angel,
just a cherub with a gun
Your better half is after you
You better start to run