Jul. 4th, 2015

demakat: (pinefresh)
I remember for a long time wanting objects to have meaning, actively thinking about it. I don't really know why, it seemed like a thing people did. You got some sort of trinket and it held this amazing amount of meaning, looking at it got you through the day/life or someone who loved you go it. I pick up rocks for this reason.

But then sometimes I just feel surrounded by stuff. The want of having just a few special things and everything else to be magically gone. A scale of love and personal feelings towards the object, anything under this amount can just disappear. That seems pretty ruthless now that I wrote it down. I would feel bad for the things. I like all of my little rocks, I picked them up because I liked them. I chose.

Maybe it is something that I only write here when I've been chasing thoughts around long enough that I can make words about the "root cause". Oh well.

I started crying the other day because I realized that the time I am most me, is when I'm putzing around my room on a nice day with the windows open listening to whatever music. Even making things is secondary to this really gentle flow state. I got upset at how far away work and the rest of my life takes me from this feeling. That I can't seem to carry it with me, when I think who I am then is amazing. I feel more part of life than any other time.

Yet I have to go and do these actions, make these words, interact with other people. So I'm less weird, so that I'm less the person who wants to wake up with the sun and gently go about my life. It's not all gentle, I get angry and sad. I would continue to feel those things.

The real answer looks like my want of control and predictability. I know mostly what is happening in my own space. I know we have bread to toast, and an egg to make breakfast with. Somewhere around here is one of my pens, there is paper. When I talk to people or go out in the world, I can't tell what's going to happen. Yet my brain is constantly processing patterns in behavior, so much in the background I'm not always aware of it. Yet without this my life gets disappointing, the joy in simple things is lost when it's all simple.

I get stressed out more often than I realize. It's hard to tell because my coping mechanism is to go through it. This has gotten me through high school, college, crappy jobs, life obligations I didn't want. I just bow my head and continue. Often though, I've "signed up" for things that I don't even like doing because I like the people doing them. Not in a romantic way, in a "you're my friend and you're important to me" way. I can't be someone else's everything, even if I might want to be because they're worth it to me.

Yet it's never about me because I'm afraid that I'll be too weird. Too wrong. That I'm broken and I should want these things I don't like. I should want to go party, I should want to have 9 billion friends, I should want to be always connected to everything. That I shouldn't want to read about science and research, that I shouldn't think NPR and TEDtalks are pretty neat a lot of the time, that even though other people like those things it doesn't mean I want anyone to JOIN me while I do them.

There is of course the ever present feeling that I'm not worthy of finding some sort of romantic partner, that I'm just too broken. I don't want to be with someone who I have to perform for, I want to be with someone who can feel like home as a person. Someone who, I could putz around at home with the windows open listening to whatever music and have them be present and still feel good and whole and me. I'm so afraid that doesn't exist.


edit: and of course now that I've typed this all out... it seems like a really crazy school report I've been researching, that is finally finished. I feel better. I drew random things and I keep remembering that I have the day tomorrow before work a night and the next day off.


demakat: (Default)

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