Reflect

Sometimes I think about the fact that me ending up where I am right now was utterly improbable. Street kids don’t get here. Street kids die on the street. But I’m here.

I need to change how a lot of things work. I need to reflect on my body. (How come Dragon keeps replacing every time I say the word “I” with the word “we”? Dragon you suck.)

This week has involved several really important conversations. I feel more like it is okay for me to do the things I want to do. I feel a lot less like I have to have a conversation I do not want to have. Maybe it is okay to just walk away. It was pointed out to me that a letter might be more tactful.

I’m considering. And I’m done with Dragon because the kids are screaming in the other room and Dragon is picking them up. Yeah, voice recognition doesn’t work when you have kids throwing tantrums within hearing range. Welcome to my life.

Apparently Eldest Child is holding something Youngest Child wants and this is a terrible tragedy.

It’s a good thing I love them so much.

I’ve been talking to doctors. I’m talking to my therapist. I’m talking to people who have been very integrated into my life over the last few years.

I need to devote the next three years to healing. It’s going to take at least that long. If I don’t do that I can’t go on the Around The World trip I want to do so badly. I just can’t go if I am in this kind of pain. I can’t do the work right now. I have to change things if I want to reach these goals.

I want to so very badly.

I need to treat my body like I’m in training for the next phase of my life. This training period is going to be hard and take a lot of focus and dedication. I need to change how I use my body. I need to change how I live my life.

I have hurt myself a lot because I didn’t expect to live very long and it didn’t matter how much damage I incurred. It is hard to change this way of perceiving myself.

But I would really like to be having crazy kinky sex with Noah in thirty years. Just because it sounds like so much fun. That means I have to change what I’m doing.

This is going to be very hard. I hope the long term return is worth the effort. I’m not looking forward to this. In the next week or so I’m going to have to work out on paper what this actually means.

I’m going to need to schedule rest. Daily. For the next few years. I will have to schedule exercise and stretching and meditation. For the next few years. I have to develop this discipline or I’m not going to live much longer.

I’m in too much pain. This literally can’t continue. I have to learn how to sleep without handfuls of sedatives. That means I have to change how much stress I feel. I have to learn how to relax.

I have to.

It would really be best if I could eat and rest without having to be stoned as fuck. That would be ideal.

It has taken more than 30 years to get this broken. It’s going to take time to fix. Not because I’m lazy or incompetent or because I’m not trying hard enough… because that’s how long it takes. Because if you seriously do the work to undo this kind of damage…. yeah. It’s hard.

I’m scared. I’m scared I will do this and see no improvement because it is too late. I’m scared that I’m not worth this investment of time, money, and energy. I’m scared that I will get bored and do something stupid and hurt myself permanently.

That’s totally possible.

This is a really wonderful Christmas already. I feel like I’m shedding a lot of layers of things that don’t work for me. I’m keeping just the most important people and things. That’s really good. I’m keeping the people and situations that demonstrate that they seriously value me and I’m ditching the situations that use me without valuing me.

It’s better this way.

My shrink says she is very happy to hear how I am emotionally placing boundaries around some of the people I am going to keep even though they are problematic. Everyone is problematic. I don’t want to run away from everyone just to avoid their issues.

Like my creepy neighbor. My shrink originally wanted me to figure out how to never see him again. Dude. He lives a block away on my running route. I could avoid him but it would take effort. I think it is better to stare at him and tell him he can’t fucking creep on me. I will take extreme measures to stop you and that would suck for both of us. Let’s just be friends. I sure like being your friend.

There has to be a place for creepy motherfuckers. I’m a creepy motherfucker. My husband is a creepy motherfucker.

We have to be permissible. Or the only reasonable conclusion is we should off ourselves.

There really aren’t other alternatives. Because, “It’s not ok for you to exist like that you have to change” is a non-starter. Nope.

You can say you don’t want to interact with me if I am the way I am. You can say that you don’t like me. You can’t say that I must change in order to be allowed to exist. I am what I am. I can change some of my behaviors, but I can’t change what I am.

I creep people the fuck out. I’m intense. I’m interested in things that really bother other people. I am innately attracted to taboo subjects. I want to talk and talk and talk and talk about things that most folks would like to pretend don’t exist. That’s ok with me. I’m going to keep talking anyway, motherfucker.

I don’t think you have to be like me. The world would be a sad place if everyone had to be like sad, angry, paranoid me.

Over the past few months I’ve watched more current television than I’ve watched in years. How to Get Away With Murder, Jane the Virgin, Call the Midwife, Strange Empire, Grace and Frankie (did I reverse the names?), with only a small amount of time still going to The West Wing.

This is different for me. I’m going to catch up on Fresh Off The Boat this week.

I feel so excited that broadcast tv is seeing so much more variety of people. We live in a wonderful time.

And so much hot queer sex. Yes give me more more more more.

They’ve got my number. Hell yeah. Sounds good. Right on.

I really need to stop typing. This is my most intense self-harming hobby left. Giving it up is not ok. I WANT TO SHARE EVERY STUPID THING I THINK WITH THE INTERNET. COME ON BODY. GET IT TOGETHER ALREADY.

Ahem.

Sorry internet. I’m just like this. I love you. I want you to know me. The good, the bad, and everything in between. I want you to understand just a little bit more about how complicated people are. Because I’m selfish. Because when I say I deeply identify with Moll Flanders other people tell me it is completely unbelievable crap.

It doesn’t sound that unbelievable to me. It sounds more like how my life could have gone if I were born before birth control.

I am where I am in large part because of modern birth control and make no mistake. You aren’t one of the more promiscuous people in your country without birth control. Or a lot of babies. I’m probably in the top 3% of women in terms of promiscuity. And I didn’t end up diseased. I had babies exactly when I wanted to down to controlling the god damn birth signs. (We wanted a Gemini and a Virgo. We got them.)

Maybe the things they tell you about what you have to do in order to be ok are wrong.

Just maybe they don’t actually know what is possible.

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