I’m so emotionally charged sometimes, I don’t know how to stop it. I also don’t want to stop it. This and that. Again. I’m back in a phase where I’m talking myself up while simultaneously talking myself down, a viscous cycle consisting mostly of self hate. 

And I’m fueled by it. Powered by my own disgust of self, of others, of life. 

Constantly getting worked up over nothing all the while knowing that it just doesn’t fucking matter, so why? Why am I fighting just to fight? Someone posted a photo of me the other day with the caption, “A laundry list of problems doesn’t make you interesting. Never getting help doesn’t make you brave. Not listening to reason doesn’t mean you have faith.”

Was this directed at me? Probably not. But when the shoe fits..you’re most likely to put it on. And maybe I’m demonizing myself. Outside looking in, I definitely try. I definitely strive for self love and compassion within my own being but I’ll tell you one thing for certain, I don’t try damn near hard enough. I don’t fight for myself nearly as often as I fight against.

I was able to describe my feelings one time and it sounded like this: Does anyone know what I mean by inside walls? Scratching, tearing, slamming. Silence. Stillness in being but destruction within. I see it as a person in a room throwing themselves against the walls screaming to get out, no sounds, only visuals, only tears, only breaking. Peeling of the skin from the inside out, because no one can see it until it’s too late.

I think most of my negative tendency are out of habit, or I hope they are. Things I can overcome and hope that it’s not just programmed into my brain. That’s the one belief I’m trying to grasp. I can be okay. I can be great. I just have to believe it. I just have to try. I have to do.

So maybe today, I’ll go reread some other posts to remind myself that I’m not alone and I am making progress and no matter what happens, this isn’t final. I CAN let go. It is possible.

Self on 35mm film


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