Rambling 98673

I’m wondering if it was my imagination that I was okay.

Took cocodamol and if I wasn’t cutting off I would be scaring myself. I’m not crossing into the danger zone as of now but way too close for my liking. It wasn’t meant to be this way. I thought that was it with self harm or messing up my life. I was trying to build my life. And I thought I was doing so. Building a life for myself however slowly. I guess I really was. Working more. Working through what I believe. Connecting to a source, to people. Building health relationships with people and putting boundaries in place with others. The only thing I was messing with was food and it was okay. It really was okay. Unless I’m imagining that it was okay and really it wasn’t. I don’t know. Today is today. I don’t want to have to deal with any of this. I don’t know what is behind any of it. At the moment it doesn’t seem too daunting – coz I’ve cut off from it. Reminds me how grateful I always was for being present. And the plans I was making for how to learn what I feel, to be present with what I feel. Why’m I rambling? I want to use more (cocodamol). For now not going to, will see if I can get to sleep first, since I’m not sure how safe it’ll be to take another 8. I know I’ve used more than 40 in the past. It’s so easy to take when you swallow (2 plus years ago when I was using I used soluble). Going to try and sleep. Was listening to a song earlier about god being with you always. Was wondering if there is a source of the world really with me. It’s possible, even if I can’t see why this is what a source would be wanting for me (and it’s not what I’m choosing. I really didn’t choose this). Writing too much. Let’s hope this makes some sort of sense. It’s too much became it’s not like I’m actually saying anything. I don’t want this – the messing my life up – for my life. So I’ll have to figure something out. Even if I was never meant to be in this place of destruction and never meant to have to figure it out. Though as I said, maybe it was just my imagination that I was okay. I know it wasn’t my imagination, but that makes the most sense for what is now. I know, I don’t need to rationalise anything, and I’ll figure it out later. I wish I didn’t have to do this. I wish this wasn’t my reality. I wish I could just go back to what was and continue the upwards trajectory. You know, using has one benefit I never expected. I’ve cut off enough that in a sense I can see what I want more. I really won’t appreciate all the scars I’ve given myself. If I wasn’t here right now I would accept them much more. And I really should stop here.

Love, light and glitter 

Edit. Its nearly 7am. Been dozing on and off. Feeling dizzy, icky and been throwing up nothing. Travelling tonight and really want to be okay by then. (Somehow need to pack whilst feeling like this). When I’m away I won’t be messing up at all. That’s my plan. To then figure it out when back. And for now need to find a way to feel better. I used to like the dazedness of cocodamol. Really not feeling very good.

I’m tired, and wish this weren’t my reality. I was never meant to mess up with anything ever again. That was my plan anyways. I’m not sure what happened to derail it. And I know that isn’t important now. I just really wish it wasn’t what it is. I didn’t ask for it. And however much it’s obviously all my choices I don’t see how or where it ever really was a choice. That’s not what I came on to write. Now I just want to feel better (physically) and wonder if there is a way to.

TW: Thinking about the thoughts of using.

Trigger warning. Please do not read this if it could trigger or disrupt you in any way.

I was thinking. About how much I think about using cocodamol. Just a few. Just to see if it helps. I liked bgddyjim’s post. It got me thinking. How using, which I think of so often, even just to see, will ultimately end in suicide. Well, I’ve always known that.

I realised that thinking of using is an instinctive thought. And it makes sense it is so instinctive because it is something that has helped me in the past and would help me in the present. I know if I start it’ll end up with suicide because eventually I’ll go back to the plan I had (which involved using), which however much is/was designed to fail, it was designed with different things in mind and I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. The thoughts of self harming (which are pretty much as constant as using – it goes, I wonder what would happen if I use or self harm) are more real, especially because, well, no because. It’s just that I do more. I’ve not done anything that would scar and I hope I don’t – I really don’t want more scars. I guess self harming doesn’t take me down the same tracks (to suicide) as using does. And I don’t count anything I do to myself as anything related to self harm. (I guess yay me for finally acknowledging that what I do probably comes under the category of self harm – even if and though I dont think that’s really why I’m doing it.) I guess it’s a bit like my issues with food. It’s not okay and will have to change one day but I’m leaving it on the backburner and not making it into a bigger deal than it is, and when I can deal with it I will.

My goal for the new year is to by the end of the next year have thrown away all that I have collected. Thinking about it, I haven’t bought any more in a long while. Thinking of using can be really real. I can and do visualise myself taking some. Opening a box and taking a few. I can feel, smell and sorta taste it. More often than I’d like. But in reality it isn’t what I want.

More than I want to use, I want to be okay.  More than I want to cut off from it – my world, life, everything – I want to be present and learn to live with all that I don’t know. So, it’s the realisation. That I’ve been thinking of using lots, and it’s quote on quote normal. It makes sense that I’ll think of doing something that helped me in the past and would help me. It doesn’t mean I’ll act on it. It doesn’t mean I have to act on it. It doesn’t have to define me.

And I get to choose. I have a choice. I choose, for this moment in time, I choose life. I choose, for this moment in time, to see all the possibilities, all that could be. I choose, for this moment in time, to believe in hope, in change, in growth, in a future. I choose, for this moment in time, to believe that I’m worthy of that future and that even if I don’t deserve it, I can get to live with it anyways. I choose life. For this moment I choose life.

TW. Rambling 37915

There’s nothing there
They don’t understand that
There really is
Nothing. There.

Nothingness.
It’s as though I’m watching
Myself
Observing
From the viewing tower

Disconnect? Check
Distance? Check
Connection? Nope
Present? Maybe

There is nothing there

I can’t get through
The glass wall
I don’t know
I don’t know what is there
I don’t know what is there

Sometimes I wonder
If there is anything at all
I’m scared I’ll come and see that
There is nothing
There is nothing there

I’m scared I’ll see that
All I am is an illusion
Beneath the facade,
As soon as you get through the walls
The walls I can’t penetrate
Can’t see what’s there
I’ll see that
The reason I could never see beyond
Was that
There isn’t. Anything.

Emptiness
Blank
Is that all there is
All there ever will be

For

There is
Nothing
Nothing there
I am nothing. Nothing.


My response to there’s nothing there elizareasonstolive.com/letter-to-myself-14th-september-19/

I do know that we’ll find the key. And Eliza, when we find the key, we’ll find a beautiful garden. Filled with flowers and weeds. Tangled and tended to. A beautiful garden. Awesome in it’s wilderness. And together we’ll prune and let it continue to grow. We’ll find a garden Eliza. We’ll find a garden.

There is something there. You aren’t nothing. When you see reality, you’ll know reality is real, exists. It’s not emptiness. It’s not an illusion. It is there. It’s there. We’ll find the key Eliza. And we’ll unlock the door. And have fun playing. And learning. Learning the names of the plants and the purposes they serve. Looking at the beauty. Lying in the sun. It’ll be awesome exploring. Like Mary Lennox (The secret garden).

Letter to myself

There is so much darkness
So much light
I wonder which are real
And then I know
Both are
Both are
Intertwined
Black and white
And all the colours of the rainbow
Forming
A kaleidoscope
Of beauty
Created with
The light
And the dark
And the dark
For that’s a part of the picture
Brings the part into a whole
They’re both
Equally real
Equally true

Vie for front position
Have to learn
To coexist
That they can live together
For one reality

Doesn’t negate another
Even when
They’re a contradiction in terms
For it then forms
The kaleidoscope
Of life
Of life


The darkness
It calls my name
I hear it whispering
It promises me comfort
Familiarity
It’s home to me
It’s what I know
What I know and what I deserve

The darkness
It calls my name
I hear it echoing
It wants me to join it
To come out and play
It promises me it’s my friend
It knows me best, after all

The darkness
It calls my name
I hear it, I hear it
I know it’s where I belong
It’s my friend
It brings peace, blankness
It brings destruction in it’s wake

The darkness
It calls my name
Whilst another voice whispers
Joins in the fray
Promises it’s not all there is
Not all there is to life

The darkness
It calls my name
Whilst hope whispers too
Don’t know where to turn
Dizzy from them both
Never sure
If it’s even real
Or if I imagine (create) it all


Choices
So many choices
Why do I have to constantly choose?
When will the choice finally go
When will it just be living with the choice of life I once made without the constant wish to just destroy it all, and the wondering if I even want that.
OCD (the thought)? I don’t think so. But who knows.
Who knows.
Why do I have to choose?

Thinking about using.

Why did I use?

To destroy myself. I had to get rid of myself and the way to do so was through playing with the edge.

Why did I escape?

Because of the guilt. I escaped with everything and anything. A lot innocuous. I never lived in the world. I was never present. Coz of the guilt for existing. The guilt for being. The knowledge that by living I hurt others. That by living I made others suicidal. By living I’m a threat to others.

What have I learned about the guilt/destruction since stopping using?
Guilt.

I’m not guilty for existing. I still believe I am. More and more there are parts of me that know I’m not. I’ve learned that it’s others issues. I learned that I knew I was guilty. Until I stopped using i never knew that I was guilty. It was only stopping that let me see it. Not stopping. Stopping one thing and going to something more sdestructive. That’s what I did until I was playing with death.

Guilt. I knew I was guilty for thinking. I knew I was guilty for feeling. I knew I was guilty for speaking. I knew I was guilty for existing.

I know. I know no one intentionally taught that to me. I know people who lived through hell (unlike my life which was a relatively happy place) and their belief wasn’t guilt. For honestly there was/is no guilt necessary. I know I’m not responsible. (some part of me knows) I know it’s not my issue. I’m learning to let go of all the responsibility for everyones lives that I always carried, and to, begin to, take responsibility for myself – something I never, ever did.

Destruction

I’ve learned that the need for destruction was an act of love on my part. I wanted to give myself what I deserved. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, but destroy myself. Stopping using taught me that. Stopping self harming taught me that. For then I knew why I wanted to.


I’m the person who can give myself what I need. Something I’ve been learning for a while. All the letters I have written to myself. Writing to myself has helped me to access a part of me that I never knew existed. I had never known I was capable of being so kind, gentle and compassionate with and to myself – the person I hate, abhorred, despised most in the world. The only being I really hated. Myself. I could honour myself. Show myself love.


What have I learned since I’ve stopped using?

Once I stopped using, cocodamol was the last thing I turned to. I stopped escaping. The destruction was still there, still played a role in my life (self harm, eating disordered behaviour if not full blown) but I didn’t escape.

  • I learned to acknowledge what I want.
  • I learned to accept what I want.
  • I learned that most people I turn to will let me down
  • I learned to be present. I first learned I wasn’t present by being present. Being present in the world is one of the biggest things I’ve gained. I’m actually here. It’s using this thought that helps me understand last night – I didn’t feel present. Being here. I chose not to tune out. I can’t always choose not to.
  • I’ve learned how far I still have to go (that’s a diff point). I’ve sen how fair I’ve come. Being present means I can be there. I can actually be there. Without wondering if I exist or am just an illusion.
  • I’ve learned, begun learning, to tune into my body. More like, my body sometimes feels safe enough to give me a message. I only get messages of constriction – the not breathing, chest hurting that can spread everywhere (sometimes a pit in the stomach).
  • I’ve learned to accept what I want to do to myself. Some of what I want to do is too gruesome for me to think about without freaking – unless I’m wanting it now, in which case I let myself want it.
  • I’ve learned that there is a pause. There is a pause that never used to exist. Between what I want and what I do. Because I was so not not present I never knew what I wanted to do until I was in the middle of doing it. Now there is some awareness. A thought. Knowledge.
  • I’ve learned there is choice.
  • I’ve learned that I like touch even if I can’t let others touch me.
  • I’ve begun learning that there is such a thing as feelings and emotions even if I can’t access either.
  • I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve seen how I can’t handle some things and I can others.
  • I’ve learned that I’m way stronger and more courageous than I believe.
  • I’ve learned that I’ve social anxiety.
  • I’ve learned how to ground myself.
  • I’ve learned that I know. I know.
  • I’ve learned that I exist. I exist as a person. I’m allowed to want. I still don’t know what I want. I’ve learned I can want though.
  • I’ve learned that life is a journey of learning. A journey that maybe it’ll be okay to exist for.

I’ve learned. I’ve learned. I can go on and on.

I’ve learned and still learn so much. Every time I want to use or self harm I learn something new about myself. I see – if it’s possible to – why I want what I want.. Which is how I learn what I need.

I don’t know why I want to use so much now. I know it’s not the need for destruction. I know it’s not the escape. It’s a need. A need for – ? I can’t face it now.

If I use. I never will face what the need is or know why I need it. If I don’t use I have that chance. Of learning something new about myself.


My period really does hurt. Not that I feel it as I’m writing this. I don’t know that I won’t use at all over the next week. I don’t know that I won’t use. And, something I’m forgetting, I don’t have a week ahead of me. I only have the moment I’m living. It could be one of those moments I’ll choose to use. My choice now doesn’t have to be based on a choice I’m not yet facing.

One thing that really helps me is grounding myself in the present. I know I said I’m so grateful to be present, yet often enough, I’m not realy present.

I’m tired. I want to cry. I want to use. In some ways I do want destruction, but it’s not the same need it was. I want to self harm. It’s not the same. I don’t understand it. I don’t need to.

I don’t know if I can or can’t do it. I don’t know if I will or won’t get there. I do know that as I said I don’t need to base my choices in the present on the outcomes of a future that doesn’t yet exist. Every moment is a new moment. Even if it all feels the same. Which is doesn’t. For I’m flipping constantly. Between wanting to take a couple of cocodamol – it’s just so, so present and real, and a need – and being okay as I am in the moment. No moment is ever the same. And I have no idea what will or won’t be. Which is as it’s meant to be. I’m not committing to anything. I don’t want to get there. I don’t want to face why I so don’t want to. I want to fail. I want to end up using. I’m allowed to want that. And I can focus on what else I want. I want to be okay. I want to stay okay. I want to keep all I’ve learned and keep learning and taking new steps. The duality. Which can and does exist. Just is. As I. Just am.

Thinking about….

I really should journal. But writing on my blog helps me to focus more, stay on topic slightly more. I’m flying and flit from thing to thing in the best of times. Which I’m sure everyone reading this knows.

It’s that time of month. And it’s hurting. A lot. I want to use some cocodamol to ease the pain. Well, that’s what I’m saying anyways. It’s a whole lot more than that too. I texted my 3 friends and told them so. I texted 2, called one, and voiced message someone who I’m never in touch with and don’t know. I did that because if I use, and if it backfires on me, they’ll have to deal with the fallout. I thought I was going to take some. After messaging them all I’m not. I’m going to write on here for now and try to put some of it down. They won’t really deal with the fallout. The 2 friends I texted are both crazy busy with their own stuff. The friend I called would drop her things for me, but she’s the friend who it isn’t healthy for me to share such things with. It would be the downfall of our relationship. A relationship I cherish. The friend I always used to speak to is living in lala land and I’m so happy for her that she is. She’s living in the world of her baby and budding relationship with her husband, which she is putting loads of effort in.

Last night I wrote a bunch of stuff. I wrote some of it on here, although in reality I was taking it much further than I wrote on here. I don’t know what I wrote. I’m not re-reading it. I woke up this morning and felt as though it was a dream. I slept for 3.5 hours, was up for a while, and slept another half hour before being woken up. The half hour sleep heralded a new day. I was pretty much saying, I think, that there’s a part of me that wants to go back to the life I lived, the life of OD’ing with cocodamol daily and not eating. This morning I woke up and wondered how real it was. It makes sense questioning that. Last night there was a distance between me and myself. It’s the distance I used to live with constantly. The distance where nothing really is real (there is no way for me to actually explain what that means). I was thinking about therapy, and my ex therapist AH who I used to skype, and how if I would see a therapist now (thinking about seeing someone, it’s for another post what I’m wondering), it would have to be in real life, for I’d need the groundedness of actually being there, for there is so little real as it is, and how AH had said that to me after half a year, that he wanted me really to see someone in real life, not through skype, and I didn’t know what he meant when he explained it. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, and now I’m echoing his sentiments. Although I’m living life present. Now I am. As present as I am, anyways. Which means I don’t really know what goes on for myself. I’m beginning to recognise stuff in my body. I’m felt sad although I can’t explain how I knew I felt sad. Last night it didn’t feel real. There was that distance. Which, if that is so, if there was that distance, it would make sense what I was thinking about. How much I wanted to get up and use. I knew that if I would get up and open the draw, I would take out the cocodamol and use it. I also knew that if I would stay in bed, I’d want to use and wouldn’t. I wrote it all out. I wrote to myself. I scribbled. Had music playing for hours.

So now, I want to take some to dull the pain. That’s the excuse. I wondered if last night was real. Yet somehow I’m able to put down exactly what I was thinking. I guess that answers me. That it was real. It’s just not what I live my life with. I don’t live my life fighting. I don’t live my life wanting to use. I don’t live my life wondering which parts are living my life for me. I don’t live my life with the distance. I was wondering if I was really okay. If I knew what okay looked like. Which says a lot. I know what okay looks like. Okay looks like the way I’m living my life. Present. Being. Acknowledging what I want. Accepting it. Able to move on.

There’s definitely a whole lot of unexplored stuff too that I can’t access. It’s very different to what was. None of what I want now is from what it was in the past. I didn’t plan on this post taking this tangent. Oh well. I used to use because I had to destroy myself. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was playing the edge. Between the E that had to destroy herself and the E that wanted to give life a go. I was doing both. By using. By not eating. I had to destroy myself because of the guilt and responsibility. I’ve dealt with a lot of that guilt and responsibility. I’m not the 9 year old I was then. I haven’t dealt with all of it and I’m still living with the ramifications of some of it, but a lot of it I have. It doesn’t rule my life like it did. What is today, well, I don’t know what is today.

So it hurts. And I want to use to dull the pain. That’s my excuse. What’s the reality? The reality is that it’s the perfect excuse. Every single month I think this. That I can use because I’ve got the perfect reason to. So I have a valid reason to use. And I want to. And I’m really tired of the fear of going back there ruling my life. I also want to go back there. I wonder what will happen if I use a couple. I mean, I know I’ll use a couple more later when it still hurts. And again a couple more. So what? So I’ll use. Who cares? I care. I care because I want to. I really want to. I really, really, really, want to.

So why don’t I use? I don’t want to use. I know I’ll go back down there. Especially with how vulnerable and unanchored I’m feeling at the moment. I’ve been spending almost every night freaking out to some extent or another. Last night I ended up crying – which was really good for me. I can’t recall if that was before the first time I fell asleep or once I’d woken up and couldn’t fall asleep. Probably the first for it was healthy for me. And I was more present then. When I’d woken up there was a sense of unreality and distance which wasn’t there before I fell asleep for the first time. So I know I’ll go back there. There is a major part of me that wants to. And another part that wants to want to (I’m not really sure what that means). And, I don’t want to.

I don’t want to. The I that lives my life. The E that is so grateful for all the good. That loves being present. That loves giving. That loves learning. The E that is constantly learning. That is living and just being, with the good and the bad and learning from it all. I’m learning to keep boundaries with people. I’m thinking of the specific people who are the guilt/responsibility that I haven’t yet been able to fully deal with. I’m learning to see what is. As an example. A couple of nights ago I was freaking out and asked someone to help me to do what I was freaking about – nothing major. She said no. She didn’t realise I was freaking. She was making fun of me. She wasn’t really, but I was taking it that way. She offered to help me. She walked out to calm down when I told her the 3rd time to just be quiet – I thought she was making fun of me. Either way, I did what I had to do and after a bit went outside and apologised to her. It was an equal situation. I’d asked her to help, she said no, she realised I was freaking, said she’d help, and yes she was making fun of me and told me she wasn’t being nice to me, I told her to be quiet because I couldn’t handle it when I was freaking out. I went out and apologised to her. She told me I didn’t have to. I told her that I had to apologise because I’d hurt her and she didn’t deserve to be hurt and then went back inside. It’s not something I ever would have done. Accepted what was my responsibility (not hers), apologised and moved on. And yes, one day I’ll react differently to begin with.

What am I trying to say again? That I’m loving the reality I’m living with. I’m loving the life I’m living. The life I’m learning to live. I know there is so much I’m still to learn and work through. I haven’t worked through my relationship with god at all – too much anger. I’ve stopped working through what I believe because I have to work through my understanding of god, which I first need some emotional answers/okayness with. I don’t know what I want to do with my life and I’m looking forward to finding out. I’m learning to take responsibility for my life and let go of what isn’t mine, and be respectful with it. Life is a learning game that I’m learning and actually appreciating that I’m learning.

It doesn’t really make a difference what. I’m appreciating living the life I’m living. I love that I know that it will continue changing. I want to continue working through everything. Using will wreck it all. So I don’t want to use. Using will wreck it all. Which is why I want to use. Now I don’t want to use in that way. I want to use just a couple because of the pain, which I don’t even know if I feel or not. I want to do that because then, I’m not using in the OD’ing escape so I’m not wrecking my life. And also because then, there’s the possibility that if I use a couple once or twice or thrice or more, I will just continue using, and then it will wreck my life – but it’s not a definite that it will, and that side doesn’t actually want the definite wrecking of it all, doesn’t want the destruction to the extent it was, just some of it – I think. So using for the pain plays both sides. Gives both sides an equal chance. Which is why I want to use for the pain. (Sounds eerily familiar).

I don’t know what I will or won’t end up doing. The part of me that is deciding my life at the moment says no. And that’s the part of me that I’ve been giving free reign to. The part that wants to live with both sides says I’m not actually doing anything, so, it just will be what will be.

Kinda, whatever. I’ve put what I’m thinking down, so I’ve put what I’m thinking down. Is it any clearer in my mind? Yes. For this very moment I’m not using. What will I do? I don’t know. My friend replied to me to remember that god can do for me what I can’t do for myself. Do I believe in ‘god’. I don’t know, and it doesn’t make a difference. There is a source. That can or cannot do for me what I can’t. And either will or won’t. I don’t know what I’ll end up doing, and, I don’t need to know now what I will do or don’t do, what will be or won’t be. I only have to live in this moment. Edit, although I’m not sure what to do about the pain.

Random 273

Tried to sleep but was thinking and shaking so was up. I’m not sure if I should really post this.

I’m stupid. Still shaking after an hour plus. It gets annoying when it goes on and there’s no discernable cause. So I went onto my private diary to write about it for tired of whinging and whining where people can see. And began reading the first few posts I wrote there. The letters I wrote to myself are awesome. Just, I wish I could cry. I’m not there now – it’s when I was OD’ing daily – and just, I dont know. I cant stay on there for it has triggered me. I’m in a good place. I’m tired – it’s late. I want to trigger myself. I dont really.  I want to want to go back there. I want to want to use. I sort of want to use. It was hell and I never want to go through it again and I’m not sure how I survived. Purely on a physical level. I lost a heck of a lot of weight at the time. Constantly got ‘compliments ‘ that you look so good, you lost so much weight. I hadn’t known people thought I didnt look good. Now I knew what they thought.

The playing with the edge. The contradictions. The need for destruction and desire to live life and acting on both and trying not to cross over either line.

The sides are still there. Now I’m beginning to tear. If I let myself, cry. I just don’t talk about it coz its pointless. I don’t engage with it much either. I let it be. I write what I want to do to myself in graphic detail. Never in public of course. If it wasn’t myself writing itd be the most triggering thing possible. I’d never known I could be gruesome. Sometimes I’ll sketch what I want to do to myself. I draw horrendously. It’s cathartic. Makes it real what I want. Real enough that I don’t have to engage with it.

I’m tired. And sad. I’m saying I’m sad but in actuality I’m not sad at all. I don’t actually feel anything. Well, I slightly can’t breathe but that’s been for a couple of hours. I’m shaking which has been for as long. And it’s not negative. It just is.

This is turning into way more of a journal entry than I planned. I want to go back there. I don’t. I want to want to. I don’t know. Yeah, tomorrow is a new day. Just that there is nothing wrong now so I don’t need the tomorrow is a new day.

I was thinking earlier that I wanted to write a post on safety. Well 3 different posts of things I want to write. Part of what I was thinking about when I was trying to sleep and shaking. One of the things was  is, the conversation I had with S. Before putting down the phone she asked me if I felt safe. I replied that I didn’t feel unsafe. And she said she guesses that is as much as shell her from me. I never feel safe. I don’t feel unsafe. And that is actually one of the most amazing things ever. That I’m okay. That I don’t feel unsafe. What was I trying to say? Oh, that I don’t feel unsafe right now. Which is good. Coz I am okay.

Not sure what I am trying to say.

How do you identify yourself?

I’m on my phone so this will be short.

A few years back, I was telling someone how much I hated what I did, that why bother doing xyz if I anyways wasn’t doing ABC. He replied with the following a few times (whenever it came up). Identify with whatever you wish. You get to choose.

How do you want to think of or identify yourself?

One of the things I want to identify as is as a person who lets the light in. I can either focus on the times I’m freaking out, can’t breathe or want to destroy myself. Which happens. Or the times I write lists of what I’m grateful for. The moments I lie on my bed reading with the breeze caressing me listening to the wind, birds, rain or music and thinking how blissful it is and how lucky I am.

Nothing is ever perfect. There is no such thing as perfection. I get to choose who I want to be and how I identify myself. Do I identify with what I don’t want to be? Do I identify with what I do want to be? Do I identify myself with others thoughts of me or my own? It’s completely my choice and my choice only. It’s not always an easy choice. It’s way more natural for me to hate myself for doing or not doing something and staying with that. It’s way easier to let darkness rule rather than creating the light. I get to choose. Every single moment. Every moment is a new choice. A time I can choose something different. I don’t have to choose something again just because I chose something once. I get to choose. Again. And again. I get to identify myself. Create myself. Build. Whatever I want the edifice to be. I don’t need to know what it will be, how it will end up looking. I don’t need to know now who I’m going to end up becoming. Just the choices in the moment.

How do I identify myself? How do you identify yourself? What will you choose to focus on, and own, for just this moment in time?

Love, light and glitter

Eliza

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I don’t have anything to write. It doesn’t help that I understand what is going on and why, it doesn’t make it easier. I just want it to stop. And I can’t stop it. I can’t make myself believe I’m worth it, however much I know it. I can’t change what my life was or how it taught me to know I’m guilty for existing. I can learn it’s not so, it’s not reality, I cant change how much trying to act on my life hurts and makes me want to destroy myself. Doing good brings up all the subconscious beliefs that have run my life until now. Acting against it makes me fight. I’m tired of how much I want to destroy myself and self harm. It wasn’t so intense when I wasn’t trying to create my own life.

Rant over.

Edit: I know that so long as I don’t actually mess up in any way it’ll pass and I’ll be okay. I know that my reaction makes sense even though that doesn’t help any. When I was telling my friend the other night what was going on she told me she thinks its something or another can’t recall the official term for it. I found it funny as she explained how I would then react, for yeah I know, I’m living with it. Just finished reading a book and heading to sleep. Here’s to keeping to good things and staying away from the negative. And hopefully if it doesn’t pass soon will figure out what to do then.