I’ve thought about a lot of things. Probably more than most people do. As a child I got so used to living in my head that I sometimes completely forgot about the world outside. It was easier. I never had to explain myself. I didn’t like having to explain myself. Everything in my head made sense to me. I couldn’t make it make sense, if I had to explain it. The colours. The sounds. My weird systems. And the nothingness. The disconnect from everything. You’re everywhere and nowhere at once. And suddely you just don’t know how to properly re-connect.
I know he loves me. My dad. But he knows which buttons to push. And he does it. On purpose. My dad loves to provoke me. I’m not sure if he’s aware that he’s doing it, because he’s probably telling himself that I’m acting crazy for no reason. He’s just being normal.
I don’t know if it’s boredom, since he was forced to go into early retirement. He has too much time on his hands. He’s bored. He doesn’t have any hobbies. Except disrupting my peace. Knowing full well that it’s going to get a reaction out of me. Gaslighting. Sometimes I just don’t want to be around him, because I’m afraid I’ll say something I don’t mean.
And he’ll use that to pour even more fuel onto the fire. I really do wonder if he enjoys it. He’d never admit it; not even to himself.
He loves me. But I’m exhausted. All the time. I’m just so tired of fighting.
“Taking care of yourself” or “getting dolled up”. I’ve heard those frases. It’s not a bad thing. By any means. But if the journey truly is the goal then isn’t there beauty even on the way to getting there?
An unfinished art piece. Messy hair in the morning. The most mundane of days. The times you just don’t feel like making an effort. Or making just half of an effort. I’ve thought about this for a while, because a discussion came up with a friend about people not “taking care of themselves”. As someone who has struggled with depression, anxiety and feelings of emptiness for much of her life some things that were said came to bother me a bit once I started thinking about them. This person makes an effort with her appearance even during her worst or most stressful of days. There’s nothing wrong with that. But I don’t think she could really grasp the mind of a person who just can’t be bothered.
I was looking at my chipped nailpolish in the bathtub today. It’s weird but I thought it looked nice. Right before I peeled it off. I’d dyed my hair recently and use a conditioner that also colours it red to help keep the colour so the water was light pink. It was a nice aesthetic. During my best days I can enjoy the little things. Even if any effort was hard to make. A few strands of hair can curl themselves in a nice way, even though I haven’t had the energy to shower for days. The light from the window can make the messy room shine, for just a little while. Maybe that’s enough. That’s the beauty you could find in an almost irrelevant day. Sappy as that sounds.
I enjoy solitude. I crave it. Especially when I have work to do. But being alone for too long feeds the bad thoughts and there’s nothing to cling to. I can’t randomly go hug my mother. I can’t play with my brother’s children. The best I can do is call someone. That just reminds me that I’m not where I want to be. Spiritually. Emotionally. And yes, physically. But I don’t know what to do about it. I’m constantly torn between worlds and nothing is really, truly what I want.
But the people I love at least give me some comfort. That’s why I want to move back to be closer to them. But it’s just not that easy. Why can’t anything be easy?
It’s been a while. I haven’t had the time/energy to post. But it hasn’t been far from my mind. Sometimes thoughts pop up throughout the day that wound up just being pushed to the back of my mind. I swear I have a filing cabinet in my brain with stacks of paper in disarray.
I don’t even know in which drawer I’m keeping most of the stuff. I just know it’s in there somewhere. The thought I just had. I lose them all the time and then they re-appear weeks, months even years later.
So, I’m working now. For a bit. Over the summer. I quite like it. I feel useful again. Somewhat.
I might have some more thoughts once I can find them. They’re in there somewhere.
I find the world overwhelming sometimes. There’s too much going on. I keep to myself to keep the calm. The world is crazy. And sometimes the opinions of others are just too much. Mainly because I can’t understand why so many people have such strong ones about things that don’t concern them. How other people live their lives. How they look. How they dress. The judgement. People who think they’ve found the key. They know how things should be done. It’s how their family does it. How they’ve always done it. And their pain is always the greatest. Nobody else has suffered like they have. That’s why they’re allowed to preach.
I wish there was a way to tune it all out, sometimes. So I could just relax a little. So I could breathe.
I’ve never really known what kind of girl I am. My personality is ever-changing. Maybe it’s because I’ve contemplated everything in life so deeply and constantly. I know that I know nothing. I’m worn-out by the stubborn certainty that most people carry themselves with. It’s an illusion. Why is it so hard to find an open mind in the middle of all the noise? I need to shut it out sometimes. There’s too much going on around me. Too much talking. No listening. Not even an attempt. I’m not perfect. I’m biased sometimes. Everybody is.
But I’m not talking about people having opinions. I just don’t feel like there’s any wiggle room for ideas. There’s always a defiant resistance anytime you want to pick someone’s brain. You feel misunderstood everytime you want to play devil’s advocate. So, now, no one can pick mine. I have to know you first. Because my mind is never still. I can’t tell you who I am right now. I don’t even know if we can connect in any meaningful way. We’ll just scratch the surface. I’m weary about going deep. Maybe we’ll see one day.
Social interactions have always been exhausting to me. But it got easier once I dropped the pretense. I’m not trying to force it anymore. When I have nothing to say, I’ll be quiet. When I have too much to say, I’ll stumble over my words. Sometimes, I’ll be too much for some people. Not enough for others. I’m working on being okay with that. The people I lose were not for me. I wish nothing but the best for them. I want everyone to live their lives as they please. I hope they get the chance to pursue their happiness. I hope that for me too.
I’m trying to make a wall of paintings for my mother. She just turned 60. She loved one of my earlier paintings so I’m trying to make the rest in the same aesthetic. Sort of yellow-black-white-ish and nature themed.