tarynitup

Looking back and seeing that the last thing I tried to write has just been chillin with the shitty drafts about my ex boyfriend is kind of a weird feeling. The one thing that has been my biggest outlet just- was on pause. I thought I just didn’t have anything to say because I apparently pay no attention to myself until it’s about to slap me in the face. BUT IT”S PROGRESS because I used to wait until it slapped me so hard it knocked me off my feet.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have anything to say.

Once I say it, it makes it real, and it’s the sign I’ve ignored so many times that has resulted in me climbing up- AGAIN, and I’m faced with only knowing that it’s time to move on from it. Most of the pain in my life has come from me trying to find space on the page to write on instead of realizing life had started the next chapter without me being ready for it to.

All of this time learning myself wasn’t spent so I could abandon it when it reached the peak. Lesson 1. Don’t ask God to help you heal what you’re not ready to heal by any means necessary… and be prepared for ANY MEANS because it’s gotten to the point of being on your knees from exhaustion and energy depletion and not knowing what else to do.

Lesson 2. It’s not a ‘snap of the finger’ adventure. You don’t feel better when you decide you’re tired of feeling shitty. The longer the rope down the shit hole you let yourself go is how long you’re going to have to climb to get out of it… the biggest lesson being not to let yourself climb down the Mariana Trench next time because- enter lesson 3. You only have one rope.

If you continue to go to the depths of hell for anyone other than yourself, that rope gets weaker every time… until you’re stuck down there and realize that you have to now CLAW your way up.. and some people don’t have the strength to face that.

Nobody tells you what losing a parent is going to do to you. But like everything else- there was an event that had me on guard, and I knew something bigger was about to happen when I walked in and my roommate was moving out. I just didn’t think it would be getting a phone call 2 weeks later from the hospital at 3 in the morning… I really feel for that nurse that had to tell me that on the phone.

“Oh at least you guys weren’t close”- shut up, jump off a bridge

“I’m sorry for your loss” – thanks for the sentiment, but this is just a reminder i didn’t lose what i should have lost.

I should have lost someone that I could always call. I should have lost someone that chose me and never left. I should have lost whatever the definition of a dad was.

Instead, I was faced with the amount of love I have and always have directed to him. So much, in fact, that I had to realize that I had redirected any love for myself towards him because I thought it would be enough… and when he wasn’t around, I redirected that at the nearest emotionally unavailable guy that showed me interest that quickly turned into indifference. “If I close the loop with ANYone, my dad can’t hurt me”

EEHHHHHHHH. So wrong. Grief isn’t just the person you lose- it’s the identity you create around the love for that person. For me, I had to not only grieve her, I had to acknowledge her. Closure on my own in the highest form, something I’m fucking terrible at. Self-validation? Ew.

The ‘ripped between 2 world’ feeling has had me stuck in bed most days- with myself binging my energy on the weekends because I refuse to stay down and if it’s one thing this blog shows, it’s my awesome skill of over-correcting when I get the ick for myself to eventually end up in a form of balance… this time, trying to find the balance before the extreme over correction.

The most important thing I’ve learned (I’d like to thank myself for saying this to someone else before the sting of realization i said it for myself too)-the lessons we scream the loudest at others to learn are often the ones we’re avoiding facing for ourself.

Telling people to accept themselves while understanding pain doesn’t give you a pass to be a piece of shit is an empty challenge if I’m hiding behind the definition of safe I created myself. Telling people that other people treat you how they see themselves as I let my mind wonder why I wasn’t good enough.

And again- once I see something about myself, I can’t unsee it.

2 trips to Vegas, 1 to Minnesota, 1 to Houston, and Ubbi Dubbi are just the BIG events of the last 4-5 months, and I’ve realized I was collecting fucking happy memories like I’m storing them away in case I ever need to cast a patronus spell… but here I am, attempting to get people to realize shit doesn’t always have to be that deep.