confession: music has been playing loudly in my apartment today as i attempt to shut out my thoughts. my thoughts spike into painful directions fueled by hurt feelings.
confession: as a verbal processor, i hear myself repetitively recount events and feelings that i haven’t yet accepted. horrible things happen. i feel horribly. i talk about the horrible things until i find a place to put these events and feelings that is less horrible. a compassionate internal container is the most healing place i’ve discovered to hold them.
confession: when i look in the mirror provided by my relationship with him, i see what i’ve been denying. i’ve been lying to myself. i’ve betrayed myself. i’ve been weak and false and untrustworthy toward myself. i’m grateful to him for reflecting these truths to me through his actions and now i’d like for him to go away…forever.
confession: a friend saved me for three and a half minutes time and time again last night during each song we danced. each song kept me afloat, kept me from drowning in my own darkness. during each song, my smile was sincere and my joy was real. i continually flashback to those series of three and a half minutes and remember that i can feel happiness in streaks while experiencing soul piercing pain.
confession: my old kitty is dying, but she is going to take a while (maybe years) to complete the process. i’m grateful she is sitting next to me today.
confession: i wish i could fast-forward to june, look back, and see what i’m about to choose and how those choices work out.
confession: my hair is flat. my heart has been flattened. i wonder if my hair will fluff when my heart revives.
confession: i emailed an old ex a few days ago. i’m not sure why and i don’t remember what i said, but i remember feeling the rightness of writing and sending those sentences to that person from my past.
confession: i emailed an old friend today. i want us to be closer. i told him.
confession: many years ago i paid for two people to go to massage school with the agreement that i could have a massage whenever i wanted one. i never asked for a massage from either one of them. both of these people are now unavailable to give me massages. now i need weekly massages. i’m paying for those massages. i feel like i’m paying for those massages again. i don’t resent the people that aren’t giving me massages. i resent myself for never feeling worthy enough to ask for a massage from the people who agreed to give them to me when i had the opportunity. i resent myself for thinking that the pay-for-massage-school as advance payment for lifetime massages was a viable plan.
confession: i have the best two best friends i could ever imagine and i don’t spend nearly enough time with either to them. i want to rectify that chronic poor choice next week and every week in 2013.