Weekend over – Life begins again

I think we should accept that Monday officially starts Sunday evening. When the sun goes down and you can no longer hide behind Sunday – ha ha.

Yesterday I was able to recover with a late night blog post (11 p.m.) that let out a good amount of my feelings about the weekend. I had already been thinking for hours and tried to be honest in my processing of these feelings.

I have been watching a lot of Frank James lately. He is a great vlogger with great depth and an emphasis on developing self-care and self-awareness. I sit in my room doing things while his videos play in the background. It’s like a soul is sitting on my bed, talking to me about scary things in a comforting and encouraging way. It’s as if the conversation is as difficult for him as it is for me, but he is being strong so I can hear it too.

As you can tell by that review, I am very inspired by FJ.

He often talks about being negative and where it can come from. How our bad habits hold us back and us being blind to them prevents escape.

I began isolating myself during a toxic relationship that I felt required all my attention in the world. When it ended I was relieved. Then, I began to feel alone. Terribly, terribly, alone.

The world I had built for two years, revolving on so little lives, her family and mine. Suddenly no longer existed. I spent the next three years bouncing between a desire to be isolated and a fear of becoming isolated, I consider myself now to be recovering.

I became afraid of certain social interactions. I didn’t really understand girls before I got into the relationship. Now the only experience I had was unhealthy. I am so terrified of being manipulated by ‘love’ again that I will not let myself get near the situation.

I have self-sabotaged the last four relationships – and I don’t mean girlfriend/boyfriend – I mean sorta friendships, sorta acquaintances, sorta best friendish girls.

I have lost more than I gained, and they have lost nothing.

I wasn’t toxic before my ex-girlfriend. I was naive and younger, 16 & 18.

Living in her world for two years turned me bitter. I was tired all the time. I had depression before, but never ever this bad in my life. I pushed it off constantly.

“Don’t worry about it, everything is actually fine, you’re being oversensitive, this is what love is.

When you lie to yourself like this once it begins a cycle. It picks a spot in your mental toolbox and is now your new multi tool. Your go-to.

Now everything gets pushed off using your tool of ‘just not giving a shit’. Hygiene slips, grades fall, relationship with your parents plummets.

Nothing really matters, we are so arbitrary when you think about it, what even is our existence? Combine these ‘original’ thoughts with a vehement disgust with religion and thoughts of God, I’m worse than the Pope. I joke, I joke, I kid, I kiid…

I like to think that if I got the proper help right after that toxic relationship, I’d have been in a much better place, much faster.

Instead I lied to myself for three years, picking new lies like daisies, each one being my gem of the week.

Oh, I must be bipolar! That’s my problem. or It’s anxiety. I am doomed to feel this for the rest of my life. Buckle up, this ride’s gonna suck. or my latest diamond, I’m an introvert, I need time to recharge, that’s why I can’t go out this weekend man. Or next weekend- Actually, you know what, just pencil me out for the next tw-three months!

Yesterday I let myself think about how much I hated feeling this way. How much I hated finally seeing ways I’m holding myself back. How much I hate having these feelings to hate and having to hate them to get anywhere.

I thought about situations I was afraid of, and why I was afraid. What have my not-so-conscious thoughts done to my perception of the world? Why is fear lurking around every corner? It knows my every move, where I’ll be, what I’m doing, who I’m with. Why does it know so much? WHO IS IT?

The killer is me.

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