(no subject)
going to make this entry as sloppy as humanly possible (like most things i do lately.)
just; so incredibly emotionally constipated; i will have to start taking to heart the idea of writing (emotionally) drunk and probably editing (never).
things have changed so much externally, but i feel like i have not. my karma is maybe half changed, which is interesting, examining that in this moment. i have to reclaim the broken bottled sea glass parts of me from my viscera if i am to keep evolving in any shape or form. "we know dis."
i think watching someone parasitically reclaim the worst parts of you and tape them to the outside of their carcass to fool another animal for affection made it especially hard to feel safe in my own fucking skin. copy cat killers and the like. i associated and continue to associate my own self-knowledge and integration now as a type of way for external reality to betray (& to betray me the most violently.) sniff deep, darling, who's slithering underneath?
how true is the feeling that i have not changed internally? not at all, and that is part of the war. my psyche, my intuition, my body, my very proprioception is so divided and fragmented from largely self-inflicted spiritual trauma and sexual/intimacy related trauma that building coherence is nearly impossible for me. meditation feels worse to me a lot of the time, a phenomenon i've read about in others with highly comparable histories. i am, however, forced into returning to "self" more and more for safety because of this, ... i do wonder if that's helpful. i don't know, i just know that i used to have a less friendly one. i have constant flashes of ego that i rarely pursue, i watch its inflated body drift over the landscape away from me; here's hoping it doesn't become food for some aquatic creature once its past the trees.
i have come into contact with a lot of childhood grief and it is interesting how it translates to "me" and my "soul" and my "body" like a past life. it may as well be? the more i get to know others grief i am just enraptured by what people process as heavier or lighter. sometimes you hear someone's story compared to yours and its addicting to drink in how they've self-victimized and woven this really complex tapestry of suffering from very little cirumstance to go off of. i mean this a little bit in a mean way, yes, but more so i am enthralled with their access to their own story, which i have really not touched very deeply. i can say sentences about the generational alcoholism and suicide and phys/sex abuse and detachment and entrenchment and toss scary dsm diagnoses about but they mean absolutely nothing to me and i cannot conceive of how all that evil is in me and is me, not really. i would perhaps be good to, but my mind and body always tell me to just "be good" no matter what and bypass this process entirely. i suppose this is how it just is for shadow
anyway just got msged by a cl that she was "positive" when she saw me last week so maybe this msg is written by someone w neurological damage but sadly prob no other than the usual amt.