I woke up many times this weekend not knowing if it was day or night outside. I secluded myself after having a burst of too much emotion. One step forward, two steps back. I spent 3 days in my room, starting over. I watched my favorite TV series (The Magicians) from Season 1, watching the characters grow all the way into the final and 5th season. It was an emotional journey in the same way that when I watch Harry Potter 7 part 2, I feel as if my childhood is dying, over and over again. To see such a visual representation of life feels so surreal. Then I started a new game on the switch, from the beginning. I named my Cult, “If Fits, It Sits”. Which is almost as good as my original name, which was “They Not Named”. Maybe I will start a 3rd Cult of the Lamb game and go crazy. I was playing with some version of Spoken is Unbroken or something. It has to be super short but creative. Creativity makes everything feel less numb.
My thoughts often wander in between episodes. Sometimes, during episodes, a character will say something and the emotions come pouring out of me. I feel stuck. Writing is easing some of this self-induced anxiety. It’s like transference of some sort. The pensive from Harry Potter. I type it out here and it slowly fades to shade less bright in my head. At the end of the day, I knew. Denial is something that can only work if every party involved participates. That’s what we were working on. Putting on the façade to present to the outside world. I wanted to believe it more than I needed it to be true. And now, all I have is an eternity of nothing. Dead. Everything is dead.
I’m brought back to several conversations I had with my father as a young girl. He told me that women crave men to own them. I remember feeling outraged as if I were property. How many camels and a horse could you get for me? The older I get, the more I see the wisdom of his words. It’s not ownership though. It’s a sense of belonging. They say home is where the heart is… I think I have been looking for a home for a very long time. A search that still continues.
I bring up the point about finding home because when living in that said home, compromise is always needed to make it all work. I have been pretty stubborn about giving any kind of leeway. It is safe to say that I stepped so far out of my comfort zone, to compromise. Do you know what compromises entails? It means that one or both people feel disappointed because no one is really getting their way. I left in the key word one, because sometimes only one person is unhappy. That’s called a different thing. Sacrifice. But I do feel compromise can be reached if sacrifice happens from time to time. For instance, I am not happy this time and maybe you won’t be happy next time. But when over 50% of the situations are one person sacrificing, it doesn’t feel like partnership. Or worse, the sacrifices go unnoticed. Lack of communication really does kill everything. I am not sure what it was I have been doing for the last few months. Maybe just me, trying on mommy’s lipstick and playing make believe house with someone who didn’t even like me. That feels on brand for me.
I am like the scorpion. A scorpion is trapped on one side of the river. A passing frog notices and talks to the scorpion. The scorpion says, let me cross the river on your back. The frog says no, you will sting and drown me. The scorpion says I cannot sting you, because if you drown, so would I. The frog agrees and lets the scorpion climb onto his back. Halfway across the river, the scorpion stings the frog. And the drowning frog screams why. And the scorpion simply says, it is my nature. So, yea, I am very much like the scorpion.
I write into my pensive of thoughts knowing that I am the true creator of my reality. So, stop crying buttercup. You did this. Welcome to the rest of your life.
