Sixteen Thirty-One
I hate you now
For burdening me with shame
For binding me with expectation
For burying me with guilt
For whispering “less than me” while closing the lid
***
Please pardon me as I attempt to vaguebook my way through some adolescent trauma.
Today was a high pain day. Pain triggers my anxiety. And in an effort to calm my anxious mind, I sometimes trip over stuff I didn’t anticipate thinking about.
These days I don’t know if I’m needlessly re-living the past or finally coming to terms with stuff I’ve bottled up. But if I think I can sit with my feels, I do. I’m less likely to have nightmares that way.
As usual, blogging is cheaper than therapy. Some say this flippantly; I say it pragmatically.
The YouTube algorithm sent me a video on emotional abuse and reminded me that an abuser need not be present for a target to heal.
That’s empowering AF, by the way.
There’s a petty part of me that wants to run down the laundry list of degrading and manipulative wrongs I suffered as a result of this person’s insecurities.* There’s another part of me that’s been chastised one too many times for being bold and angry.
But I think right this second, if I’m blunt, I’m just not interested in defending myself to myself. I’m trying to cut back on the pointless overthinking.
*”Insecurities” might be putting it charitably. But I have discovered changing the word doesn’t alter the damage, so I’m opting to see the glass as half full. For me.