fresh start

okay, I think I figured this thing out.

let’s give this another go.

Some time ago I decided I wanted to write a diary. but put it out for public consumption, a sort of: I like to write, I think I’m semi-decent at it - but only in a creative writing sense. of like, let me write about my real journey because I have no sense of grammar or first/second-person and all that jazz. y’all, rural public-education, friends. teachers did their best. but I was also born in a fiercely unstable situation. much of which I’m sure I’ll get into!

but at the time I began, I was also fiercely in my rage era. Rage Era? I had held so tightly onto that feeling as if it hadn’t been allowed. and it was only of my doing, to an extent. nobody was actively telling me I couldn’t feel anger. But I was raised to feel as if anger was a fault of my own. sometimes it was, but sometimes it frankly - wasn’t.

and that’s something i’ve never: until this moment, let myself acknowledge and know.

the feeling of seeking validity in a childhood where that wasn’t allowed. because by my wanting, or needing it was inconveniencing another very hurt human. Because it meant I needed someone to nurse my own growing mental awareness. I was just learning this world when my caretaker was learning her own adulthood. barely out of being a child herself. And doing it with two of us - all on her own. shoot, that in itself needs to be its own entry. but even under this veil of the unknown: nobody who reads this knows me. or if they do and somehow found this? That’s the fear.

even now, I feel this need to protect people from the truth. Like: yes, this thing happened and it was wrong. No excuses or plead of forgiveness because I just need to be truly, truly raw. Even with my therapist there’s still that thin veil of not being able to completely let go. because what if she: She, this woman who is so educated, empathetic, knowledgable, there to help - she, she would leave me, too. She would recognize I’m truly a helpless cause and throw her hands up and then I’ve lost the one person who was there with me all along.

Well, for the last big hurdle.

The one you feel maybe. Maaaaybe. You’re seeing that dim light on the very top of the hill - is that the top, where I can finally get over?

And maybe he’s doing so intentionally. While you’d like yourself to think because somehow, maybe he does - or at least at some point, did? - Truly care. Maybe he did see you for all you are: awkward, fiercely shy, very traumatized and so, so broken, a little homely, to be honest… And so so inexperienced in so many ways. And at an age where it’s no longer sexy but rather taxing and confusing, a little disconcerting, like: okay, what’s wrong with this woman? She must be beyond batty.

But: you think that, you’re going to stumble backwards again. As if somehow, somehow:

You don’t even know.

Because what outcome are you truly hoping for? You’ve found the peace. You believe, hope - everyone has. You could simply: let go. don’t look back. after all, they all had. but then, you’re little musings found and a kindness you couldn’t quite comprehend. One even to this day you wonder: is the Big Revenge going to happen, now? Where all your shared memories and fleetingly-brave but still stupid pictures you took are just spread? along with a well-deserved caption of, “see? look at this she-demon. straight to hell.” or the worst: just the forever weaving and bleeding. echoes of silence, acceptance that you never were. you silly billy.

but every now and then, a little wave of, hey I see ya. you’re doing okay.

and then all the familiar waves of finally not being afraid. and you even laugh and now and then. feel okay. like the hands reaching out will comfort, not hit. oh, just a tiny little sip won’t hurt. Just a taste, I’m okay with it.

And meanwhile, they raise their cup already overfilling with elixir. but they see your parched sunken cheeks and take pity: we’ll give her another minute of joy. she struggles to find it in life. too nervous, too afraid to seek more kind hands. they’re all just too scary. You don’t even recall how that last one even made its way in. Whether by initial general kindness or a way to simply escape for a few hours and then you grew too attached. Like the stray dog who grew too comfortable. Shoo, you were never meant to want to stay.

and so, you followed that other one once shooed away. hoped: for their sake, maybe it means that it will all be okay.

You hope they found their way back to the path they had been seeking this whole time. Like the hot stove the child touches and learns just how much it burns. But now the blisters are gone and the bandages are coming off. Your moment is like that switch to off. Lesson learned.

And you need to accept it. In this writing, that’s my goal.

And should I even write about if things had been true? That sure, you were one of two or several? That words you never heard before then had been genuine? Again, what then?

life is really weird. like, huh. after all this time: that’s my first experience? truly following generational patterns. it sneaks up on ya. you used to feel like it was being shown two paths and choosing the correct one. like, “oh duh, this road has goblins and dragons and only a blade of grass for a weapon. This other one has sunshine and puppies and kittens. Of course that way.”

but then time, events, situations. and again: really? this?

now to try and learn trust again. it’s really difficult. Because I don’t know whether to believe I can or can’t be loved. I don’t know whether I have ever been loved outside of a friendship or obligation. I don’t know whether I will ever, truly be ‘enough.’ Whether someone can see me in all my trauma, growth and self and not only accept it, but like some of it? Want to keep it around and enjoys it?

I don’t know, and that’s scary.

How to describe in a society where people either have or had close friends, family or past lovers?

I have two or four, depending on how you think of it. and nobody currently I can express my stupidity but also brokenness to.

I’m trying again. keeping up convo. being open upfront that I’m a person who needs time. that I have some barriers but am actively working on it. and it is difficult when you just can’t communicate with the person you once thought could offer that. even if they did want to, which all signs seem obvious that you’re a simple fool. don’t stumble. keep forward.

more to come.