she spends her days
in silence, stillness,
content to be alone.
she longs for contact
affection
attention
conversation
acknowledgement that she IS.
she knows where she stands
and is content, even - when she feels it -
happy.
she longs for something else,
more
not sure what, but something.
she's adult
responsible
reliable
she's a child
wild and silly
capable of going so far
overboard
that she gets smacked down.
she's loving
direct
unafraid of showing her feelings
affections
desires
she's silent
and fearful of being
so vulnerable
with anyone.
she's terrified
of everything
but makes herself pretend
to be brave
because sometimes
"Fake it til you make it"
actually works.
she doesn't ever want
to hurt or upset anyone
she cares for
she can be a total
pain in the ass.
she needs no approval
no "Good job" or
"good girl" or pats on the back
from anyone
to feel good about herself.
But if you want to see her
incandescent,
watch
when the right people
use one of those phrases.
she forgets to say
anything
to anyone
for weeks;
she talks incessantly
and can't remember
how to be still.
she is entirely
self-sufficient;
she feels
like she cannot survive
without that ring
around her throat.
Take her apart,
and you will find
equal parts
prickly bitchiness
and open love,
anger
kindness
fear
bravery
planning
and impulsiveness,
something beautiful
and strange
entirely accessible
and entirely beyond
anyone's grasp.
27.4.16
6.4.16
Post-surgery
Recovering
recuperating
physical and mental healing
don't go well together.
Giving my body
the time it needs to heal
has given my mind
time to turn in on itself
and i can't get to the surface
some days.
Some days i'm fine,
vegging on shows and
cuddling with the pup and kitties;
others i cannot escape my own brain
and where the hell do you go
to escape those insidious
twisting
convincing
whispers at the back of your
very
own
brain?
The constant anxiety,
waiting to be told you're annoying
again
or slapped away
from everyone you know,
the insistent voice that says
you trusted your instincts
and he fucked
you
up
so don't get too comfortable now, bitch.
Don't.
Do it.
It isn't safe.
i feel like a kitten
curled up in a ball
waiting for the petting hand
to slap it
again
only
this is so much more
insidious than the physical was.
i have to reprogram my own brain
remind myself that i DO have worth
i'm worthy of being loved
i'm a good person,
i'm an interesting person
goddammit
i have been
stamping
this
into my brain for eight months
and it's still hard to remember
and some days
i want affection in the worst way
but how do i ask anyone
reach
say "hey, i need reassurance"
when i'm curled in a ball
in a corner
somewhere safe
not reaching out
because hey,
it's safer here.
recuperating
physical and mental healing
don't go well together.
Giving my body
the time it needs to heal
has given my mind
time to turn in on itself
and i can't get to the surface
some days.
Some days i'm fine,
vegging on shows and
cuddling with the pup and kitties;
others i cannot escape my own brain
and where the hell do you go
to escape those insidious
twisting
convincing
whispers at the back of your
very
own
brain?
The constant anxiety,
waiting to be told you're annoying
again
or slapped away
from everyone you know,
the insistent voice that says
you trusted your instincts
and he fucked
you
up
so don't get too comfortable now, bitch.
Don't.
Do it.
It isn't safe.
i feel like a kitten
curled up in a ball
waiting for the petting hand
to slap it
again
only
this is so much more
insidious than the physical was.
i have to reprogram my own brain
remind myself that i DO have worth
i'm worthy of being loved
i'm a good person,
i'm an interesting person
goddammit
i have been
stamping
this
into my brain for eight months
and it's still hard to remember
and some days
i want affection in the worst way
but how do i ask anyone
reach
say "hey, i need reassurance"
when i'm curled in a ball
in a corner
somewhere safe
not reaching out
because hey,
it's safer here.
The Dichotomy of Being an Introverted Empath
i get the funniest looks
sometimes
when i say "i'm an introvert."
"i need alone time."
"i'm shy."
No one seems to grasp
that the outgoing friendliness is,
for me,
a defense mechanism; that every contact
comes with a cost in bravery at
opening up to anyone else.
That the fight between
the needs of every
single
person
i meet
and my own needs
exhausts me, some days.
That any time i open up
and let another person in
some part of their life,
their story,
their pain
echoes in my own heart,
that i choose
so carefully
who i let in
and who i hold away.
No one sees
that the inside of my head
is a landscape made up of
streams
and mountains
wild forests
and all of it empty
save for me
and whomever i allow
to enter.
That my emotions run on
instinct
and whomever i let in,
be they friend
or lover
or random stranger
those people are so carefully
selected
because i cannot
hold the pain of the entire world
but i can hold the pain of a few people.
Never feel sorry
for me.
There are things in my head
more beautiful and strange
than most imagine exist
inside of me,
and the choosing i do
is never a burden.
It isn't a question
of who is worthy and who isn't,
but of whose pain
i'm strong enough to bear
without once feeling burdened,
who i can spend time with
and not need to run home;
who feels safe, trustworthy,
and who
doesn't.
It's a question
of whose motivations i understand,
not whether or not i am hurt.
It's a question
of where i choose
to let my love go,
regardless of whether
that love is ever returned
in any measure.
i once had a friend
tell me
that i was too patient, too understanding,
too nice.
i let in
the people who need
what i'm capable of giving.
The people who won't
walk over me and then away,
the ones who don't hit my flags
in ways that tell me run away,
the ones who need those
moments of safety
acceptance
love
and i can't explain
what makes me let one in
and shut one out.
All i know
is that if their lives
are in any way improved
through that contact,
it is worth everything.
sometimes
when i say "i'm an introvert."
"i need alone time."
"i'm shy."
No one seems to grasp
that the outgoing friendliness is,
for me,
a defense mechanism; that every contact
comes with a cost in bravery at
opening up to anyone else.
That the fight between
the needs of every
single
person
i meet
and my own needs
exhausts me, some days.
That any time i open up
and let another person in
some part of their life,
their story,
their pain
echoes in my own heart,
that i choose
so carefully
who i let in
and who i hold away.
No one sees
that the inside of my head
is a landscape made up of
streams
and mountains
wild forests
and all of it empty
save for me
and whomever i allow
to enter.
That my emotions run on
instinct
and whomever i let in,
be they friend
or lover
or random stranger
those people are so carefully
selected
because i cannot
hold the pain of the entire world
but i can hold the pain of a few people.
Never feel sorry
for me.
There are things in my head
more beautiful and strange
than most imagine exist
inside of me,
and the choosing i do
is never a burden.
It isn't a question
of who is worthy and who isn't,
but of whose pain
i'm strong enough to bear
without once feeling burdened,
who i can spend time with
and not need to run home;
who feels safe, trustworthy,
and who
doesn't.
It's a question
of whose motivations i understand,
not whether or not i am hurt.
It's a question
of where i choose
to let my love go,
regardless of whether
that love is ever returned
in any measure.
i once had a friend
tell me
that i was too patient, too understanding,
too nice.
i let in
the people who need
what i'm capable of giving.
The people who won't
walk over me and then away,
the ones who don't hit my flags
in ways that tell me run away,
the ones who need those
moments of safety
acceptance
love
and i can't explain
what makes me let one in
and shut one out.
All i know
is that if their lives
are in any way improved
through that contact,
it is worth everything.
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