It's okay to not be okay.

I needed this today.
https://www.instagram.com/p/Bhpsjn8HVw9/

At a time when I have been carrying around shame; that I let myself put up with disrespect in order to allow myself to feel the comfort of physical touch. Guilt; of not putting energy into the right people and beneficial activities. Anger; that I let people project onto me and didn't put them in their place because I was afraid of the angry reaction it might elicit from them. The hurt that the anger came anyway because the misunderstandings multiplied when I was unable to be clear and firm.

Every day is a new day to heal, to grow, to create the life I want to live for myself.

Sex

Taboo for some, commodity for others, freeing for some, a trap for others. No matter your relationship with sex there is always someone who sees it differently. Not long ago I experimented with having sex with an ex. At first it happened haphazardly without discussion. If I had time to gather my thoughts before being kissed and then asked if I wanted it, I may have said no thanks. For some of us when we are in the moment the urge to merge is overwhelming. The next time we saw each other we agreed there was no interest in romance or commitment from either of us.  Eventually he ended up with commitment on his mind. It was difficult to deal with his persistent projection of his own way of thinking onto me. When I tried to end the benefits and go back to friends I was accused of trying to get something out of the sex... Which I couldn't even wrap my head around.  What would anyone think sex would get them other than the sex itself or the risk of STIs and pregnancy? I was trying to give up the pleasure for a chance at friendship, but I guess that wasn't something we were going to have again. PTSD from sexual assault and rape isn't understood by men who don't respect boundaries. It just doesn't compute for them. Sort of how using sex as a manipulation doesn't compute for a compassionate caring person like me. I thought it was all about having fun and feeling good. He thought it was a means to some end. The empath and the narcissist can never comprehend each others way of life. The narcissist accuses the empath of narcissism, the empath feels the narcissists pain but doesn't understand their methods of communication or drive for domination. When the empath finally pulls away or tries to create a boundary the narcissist creates a drama and frames the empath for it. I saw this play out years ago. Yet I thought this time would be different. I thought the narcissist had begun to learn self awareness and compassion yet they only learned how to pretend to have those things. Their inner drama queen came out as soon as I asked to be given space to deal with my own personal issues. In their eyes it had to be all about them. They couldn't perceive that I was hurting over someone else. That the experiences I had when they weren't around were part of my struggle to get close to new people. A narcissist assumes everyone else is also playing their games.  I refuse to play. I refuse to let myself feel bad for wanting to cope with my issues and not let them make everything all about them. Sex is not about power, it is about empowerment.

Trial and error

I went out to accomplish a street art mission I have been trying for years. Every thursday the 12 I attempt to get my Jason mask out in the world somewhere. This time I opted for sidewalks, yet the bag was too small and the spray too broad only the eyes came out. The opportunity comes about once a year and so far I have yet to succeed in bombing any town with a Friday the 13th themed piece. I am still proud though for I am closer to figuring out the best method of accomplishing my task. So what if it takes years one day I will finally succeed because I won't give up.

Practicing patience and positivity.

Writing used to be my therapy yet somehow I keep forgetting to pick up a new journal. Recovery is a process. One that requires a great deal of self compassion. I have forgiven myself repeatedly for failing to make it to the gym or to put pen to paper to sketch out a piece. Our environments are also quite important for healing. My current one about as stressful as the last. It is almost time to move again, this time back to nomadic life. Each day that I don't live up to the goal but I still make progress is still worth celebrating, still worth feeling good about. Progress is process and kind of a mess. That's life. The ride that doesn't always take the expected turns. The rock we roll up the hill over and over to what seems like no avail. The struggle is real as the internet says these days. I always feel silliest foe making the same miatakes. To have a moment of joy and connection is worth the pain of its loss. To be compassionate and kind to others even if they are disrespectful and judgmental is staying true to my inner compass. I can find peace in knowing that despite any outburst of reaction I am still me and my truth will shine out and my journey will move forward. It is okay that I have not formed a steadfast calm or a firm assertiveness. Those I can develop. What is important is that I am still breathing. I am here. I choose to be here, right now, in this moment.

Turning the negative thoughts into positive ones the best I can.

I gave up on trying to heal the failed friendship with the person who triggered me quite a bit. I got a membership at a new gym even though I haven't gone a lot. I have managed to take a walk every weekend even though I don't make it very far. I listen to talks on youtube to bootstrap meditative thought on things I used to focus on before the rumination and regret took hold. I just often feel on edge. PTSD comes with a tendency to feel hyper vigilant always on alert for attack. People will do things that freak me out and won't understand why I am asking them to not do it or give me space. I just look like a crazy person or they project their own assumptions onto why I am upset which are always some stupid drama bullshit I don't participate in. It's really hard to find anyone to understand. The silver lining I keep trying to tell myself is that in crisis you find out who your real friends are. The ones who will stay with you even if you are acting like a basket case.

Trying new things

Duck is delicious. Today I treated myself to something new. Actually two things. A ginger martini and duck curry. I've had martinis and I've had curry but these combinations and this location are new. When things get tough for me the chaos of change is the only reprieve. Dying hair used to be my therapy or adding a new piercing. My job is a lot of work with how I've been feeling. Like connections are just a thing on TV. Friends don't exist it's only random conversations. Temporary interactions. As much as I ruminate on my mistakes you'd think I should follow my own advise. Yet the tension in my body, the PTSD muscle memory, doesn't get to dictate what I do or think about. I can treat myself. I work hard for it. Don't be afraid to be nice to you. It's essential for healing.

Oh baby I'm back

After months of frustration, trying to let go of recent transgressions, misunderstandings, triggers and mishandling of myself I reached a coalescence of insanity.  Feeling like I was at my breaking point I found myself trying to talk to anyone and everyone again, each time I thought how silly it was to talk to anyone who didn't really care.  It's rough when few people do. Then I decided to finally just write to the people who judged me, misunderstood me, treated me poorly and triggered me. Not in any way that they'd actually get it, but I let it all out.  All the ways they made me feel, all the misrepresentations they made about me, all the frustrations that I had tried time and time again to release.  Usually sitting by the water allows me to flow with the energy of life and leave all that happened in the past in the past, yet the cold of winter and decline of my health made it difficult to visit any body of water.  A quick plane trip to a sunny beach for a couple days almost got me there.  I was able to return to my body with that trip, relieve the disassociation that had occurred. Yet something lingered, and festered upon my return. Tied to the fear of being treated this way all the time by everyone. My journal fell apart, and has yet to be replaced for a couple months now and although I found outlet here once or twice the lack of writing was keeping me in a loop. I finally broke it.  Finally. Let it all out, said all the things, now I feel relieved, and free.   I took myself out to dinner and ate something special.  It's going to be all self care and joy from within from now on.  The goals that have carried me through these rough times are still on track, and now that I'm feeling level I can get back to the learning and research that I love so much!