Archive for November, 2015

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

Posted: November 22, 2015 in me

It’s been a terrifying thing to meet somebody and start down that road that always has only lead to the nothingness.

“When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried him.”

I have always been the senior contributor to affection, emotion, and momentum. It’s who I am. The mushmaster of mush county. I am loose with my passion. It doesn’t require fire or a spark. It only needs hot whispered breath on the back of my neck. And that’s very misaligned with who I want to be. So I’ve turned into this person who is paralyzed by my fear of self.

I’m quick to label myself a spazz, a wreck, and utterly and completely overwhelming. But, am I? I’ve been told that there will one day exist somebody who can handle me, who will take the fact that I just AM. It won’t be a flaw or a task. That there will be one that can “be still and know that I am Jenny.” But I also kinda need that to be validated. To hear in some way that I’m heard. It’s absorbed and accepted. If only a week in I could scream “VALIDATE ME.”

It was pointed out to me how negatively we are often impacted by being “gas lighted.” (ugh I hate even referencing some pop culture psychology, but it’s accurate) Picture if you will, a vulnerable girl sharing her feels and thoughts of affection and desire and insecurities only to be called crazy or a stalker. And yet, that’s real life. It’s lead me to believe I’ve spent a majority of my time in relationships that the other person, in fact, couldn’t relate. Or chose to respond with emotional obliteration because they were uncomfortable. But I don’t need to analyze them. There’s no point.

I’m so uncomfortable finding the sweet spot that lies between my true self and the girl who refuses to disregard her life lessons. Not in my heart, nor in my head. Audibly. Physically. How do you act like you care about somebody all nonchalant and shit?! And why should I have to?! I’m not responsible for the reactions for others, but I’d rather not be subjected to a caveman response that I’m nuts for feeling. I hate that I have to dip my toe and constantly mind read to take the temperature of another’s comfort level with my brand of intimacy. That any time I may want to say something pure and true, I have to follow that up with some type of disclaimer that my sanity level is normal, I’m just talking. That I mean a bunch of stuff, but it’s meaningless if you get itchy from it.

Doesn’t anyone else want to feel like that? Verbally adored? Spot checked? You are HERE to me, and we are here TOGETHER. What a strange life this is. I just hope that one day I’ll appreciate all of this, instead of feeling foolish. That my means will find an end. That I can be who I need to be, for me, and that is welcome and healthy for somebody being who is also doing their best to be them.

“Trust me when I say that it’s not supposed to be this hard.”



Posted: November 17, 2015 in me

In that moment, under a bridge, I realized that everything hurt

And was terrifying

And I was tired

The wind whipped up smells of old and dusty things

Things you dare not touch with more than your finger tips

But I grabbed hold and closed my eyes

I didn’t want to hurt anymore

Or be afraid

I wanted to feel the depth of the cold

And every thing up until then stopped mattering

Not a thing

And in the darkness behind my eyelids I decided I was tired of letting go

So I held on

It was that easy.

“And I could see for miles miles miles.”