#writingtowrite

[letsnottalkabouttime]

Somewhere along the line I forgot to create my life

Somewhere along the line I forgot to create my life. I was just moving through it, waiting for things to happen. And.. sometimes they did.

But I had forgotten that I had the wonderful gift, to fill my life with whatever I wanted. I think, well I think I wasn’t even thinking about it; I figured I knew how to live a life. Isn’t it just something we’re born knowing how to do?

It didn’t help I was always relying on someone else to create my life. I’d follow around a significant other and adopt their life-- like a cuckoo bird stealing a nest.

Now that I’m finally on my own, I was able to look around, and saw my half-baked life. I realized the mistake I made in the process of waiting and leaving my life empty, was using the mindless act of scrolling through social media to fill my days outside of work. It sounds almost idiotic to admit. What did I expect? Of course you’ll feel empty, you haven’t done anything to fill yourself.

I’m not saying I haven’t done anything with my life until now. I have had fun, I’ve created fond memories. I’m not saying I didn’t make decisions or take chances.

But I forgot that the spaces in between matter too. How you spend your evenings after work. What you do on a day off. Who you choose to spend your time with. Deciding to dance, making art, singing, listening to music, reading a book, playing with your pet, talking to a friend vs… sitting alone on your phone. I felt so exhausted, it’s like that’s all I had the energy to do, just sit there. Sure sometimes I laughed. And sure I would send messages to my friends, but I wasn’t living.

I guess that’s why I started writing. Even if no one reads it, I’m putting my feelings into words, and gently and quietly sending them out into the universe.

[letsnottalkabouttime]

Musings

I feel so often a worry that I don’t have all I need within me. I guess that’s true for all living things. But I mean in a less physically way. I feel I need others to inspire me- to live and to create. It’s almost as if I can’t do either on my own, only some half-assed version of them. I’m not sure if anyone else feels like this.

For a long time I wouldn’t cook for myself, it seemed like so much effort, just to eat for a few minutes, and then have to wash the dishes after. But I realized later that, there was a deeper message I was telling myself in that. That I’m not worth cooking for if it’s just me. And that is harmful, and sad. I still need to fight against that feeling, almost daily actually. I’d been calling myself lazy, but really it wasn’t laziness, I would’ve cooked if someone else was there with me, it was a weird form of self-hatred. Why is living so much effort when I’m alone? It’s because I thought for so long: life was only worth living for/with another. Geez, I wonder where I got that idea? Maybe it was the rom coms I watched growing up. Or just the general narrative that gets told to young girls. Even now, the topic of my single life is often retorted with “You’ll find someone new”, not “You’ll learn to make a life for yourself”, the only exception being my therapist and other older women.

I’ve always been in long term relationships, they felt comfortable and homey. Every since I was 15, I think I’ve been single for maybe a year and a half at the very most. I’m going to be 30 this year, and I’m single again. It’s going to be a year soon. Boy has it been strange. Rediscovering yourself. What do I like to do? I know some of those things that bring me joy and I try to do them, but it feels like there’s still more to discover. I try to remember who I was before all my romantic relationships, but that’s tough to do. I wasn’t really even fully formed then, just a child. I also have an awful memory, so that doesn’t help matters. I know I like being outdoors, in nature, in the sunshine. I like to move my body and dance around. I try to do both of those things now, although the latter is usually confined to yoga or dancing when I’m out drinking. I want to do more things that aren’t just consuming media. I want to create, but then I’m back to the beginning of this writing, I feel like I can’t do it alone, or if I do it’s not fully formed. Maybe I just need to keep going…

[letsnottalkabouttime]

Things Aren't As They Were

I was thinking about my mindset as a child the other day, how present I was in the moments I lived. Seeing the dappled light through the trees, watching fireflies in the summer nights, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, hearing the sound of winter wind blowing in the night.

Now I’m so very often taken out of the moment by my adult thoughts. Thinking of things I need to do or of the terrible events transpiring in the world. Is there a way to escape those thoughts? I do yoga and workout out, it seems only when my body is doing something so taxing I can’t help but focus on that instead.

My therapist said I should try meditating, it’s just hard for me to make it a routine.

Time is a funny thing. You cut your nails one day, the next they’ve already grown back. The passage of time is faster now. The weeks pass so much quicker than ever before. You realize it’s been months since you’ve seen a certain friend once you get together again. It’s been years since you’ve seen your childhood best friend. Sometimes you wonder if you’ve already seen someone for the last time without even knowing it.

I want to disconnect from social media at times, but the sole reason I can’t is in the name – “Social”. I need little glimpses into my friends lives. Except social media contains more than just that...

[julieelisabeth]

TL;DW Welcome, it’s been a minute. There’s no “writing plan” for this blog. I pray you become inspired and find your own healing. Peace to you.

[rjxxr-blog]

Sitting on the stairs in the concrete dark// we'd a case of beer that I didn't want to drink and I was being shoved into a conversation that I didn't want to have. I felt uncomfortable. I don't know how to process that. Knowing that something is there but where, I cannot see it or hear it. Only in the sensitivities does it show, the quick backlash, I'll get out of your hair. And I'm such an asshole. So judgmental though I promise I do try to be gentle with my voice (do you want some water?) but we've always been so eye ball y with each other that it's really just hard not to stare. She is beautiful and both I love. And I was so embarrassed when they were knocking into walls and strangers, but anarchy or just out of control? I was really furious. My jaw clenching. Ticking. Standing in alleys with strangers somewhere in Compton. I've felt the thrill too, but it was empty. And cold. And it never stayed the next morning. Washing pills down, disappearing for months. We found a pinball arcade one night and she talked about the speed fiends in Spain, the 5 am visits, the silhouettes. Always trying to spell out sadness with words, but never enough for them. Just another mirror. I wrote her a letter the other day. I remember traipsing along/ the creaky floor/ to your empty room. The window cracked in January. But it will stay in my notebook. She won't answer my phone calls. I don't have an address. I was always there, waiting in the walls. I heard her stories one thousand times. I watched her haunt the roads. Where is their impulse control? What are they searching for? What do they think they will find? What do they hide from? What sort of walls are there to break down and who is getting in and who is being pushed back out? I lose them at the bridge. It's a jump I won't take. That bridge would kill me. I hide from my demons in different ways, and when their fingers touch my spine, I shiver and cheer, it means I am alive. What happened in the dark, in the back of their closets, down by the lake? What do they drown for. And so those who know, those they confess to in bars, or in the strip malls, or in the airport lounge, the handsome martinis, the flamingo smiles. The rich inner lives. The wild and the brave.