(no subject)

[ysobelle]

I made a mistake.

I guess it was inevitable, and it's not the end of the world, but it was dumb, and I knew better, and I'm left with a bunch of issues and questions and a whole lot of sad. In a way, it was only a matter of time before something blew up, and it's better, everyone says, to be able to talk about things than have them fester, right?

I'm not so sure.

I'm pretty private. I know, I know-- any quick perusal of my online life will plead otherwise. But I am. I have limits on what I will discuss, and what I won't. I also have a rule, forged in the fires of that horrific smithy that is grade school, that those things which hurt: the cruelty, the slights, the jealousy, the rejections, the fear, the put-downs, the hopeless longings-- all of them, get held inside, locked away. Animal instinct says don't show your pain. I was strictly trained in my formative years that people are like lions circling a herd of wildebeast. The one that shows pain is the one that ends up a nice lunch.

So I'm not very good at dealing with bad things when they happen. It's not like they don't happen often. I have deep pockets full of such experiences. But I internalise them all, and tend to brood. I do have people I talk to, but not all the talking in the world is detergent enough for some stains. I keep trying, hoping to lift out some of them, but there's no OxyClean for your brain. There's no Undo feature for the first twenty years of your life. Though really extensive therapy is a good start.

At some point, I'm sure, some faint glimmers of perspective will creep in, and I'll figure out how to get back on some kind of even keel. Or, more correctly, figure out how to fake it again. Re-close some doors, put some things back in their boxes. Re-lock a few cages. It's just this interim time, right now, when I'm standing here with everything raging around my head, that's hard. Everything's escaped, everything's on the rampage. There's so much crazy in my skull, and so much noise. I can't make sense of it all.

A nap will help-- I'm always an order of magnitude worse when I'm tired. Time will help. Therapy-- ahhh, blessed therapy!-- will help. I will feel better tomorrow. I may even feel better tonight.

I just have to get through the really bad internal maelstrom that is right now.

Comments

[scarletwildfire.livejournal.com]

Hugs. :) [<--doesn't know what else to say.. so fuck it: MORE HUGS!]

[ysobelle.livejournal.com]

Hugs are always gratefully accepted and wholly appreciated. And returned.

[relisabeth.livejournal.com]

Oh, Ys. Hugs. Many of them.

And, well, someday I hope that it won't be faking it. That the even ground to stand on will be real.

For now, though hugs and a hope for some calm in the storm.

[ysobelle.livejournal.com]

One day, yes. Not everything is chaos-- but this is a little all-consuming right this minute. I'll be good. I just need a little space. Thank you.

[freyas-fire.livejournal.com]

I've been reading through this site most of today: http://eqi.org/index.htm

While many of the examples are parents interacting with teenagers/children, there's some good info there. It's been helpful in recognizing my own behavior and emotional upheavals as well as the behavior of others.

But yeah, I understand where you're coming from, in my own way. ::hugs::

[ysobelle.livejournal.com]

There's a lot of good stuff there. Thanks, honey.

[elionwyr.livejournal.com]

Love you, beautiful.

[ysobelle.livejournal.com]

You're my rock. Thank you. So much love.

[pseudonymous.livejournal.com]

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility."

-Khalil Gibran

[pseudonymous.livejournal.com]

This is not to say I think therapy is a bad idea; rather, therapy is likely to bring up the pain (which may be what prompted this post?).

I think what Mr. Gibran is trying to say is that going through the pain, rather than locking it away or hiding from it, is what ultimately heals us.

[ysobelle.livejournal.com]

Oh, I agree. Really. And it's not the pain I need to lock away-- it's the many other wild things I let loose for one sharp, should-have-known-better moment. The pain I need to sit with, examine, understand. It won't go away until I do. Though I expect even then it'll stay around, like a slightly stabby souvenir.