(no subject)
In the aftermath of a migraine, I am not eloquent. But I will try.
Years ago, I changed the way I think to remove metaphors from the context of my thoughts, because even if postmodernism lacks poetry, it is simple to use and understand. My metaphors were incomprehensible to most sane people; I wanted to be easier to understand. I traded the possibility of being romantic for the probability of communication. But at times like this, all my brain can come up with are thoughts like 'if you're this disappointed in yourself, imagine what you must be like to your friends', and that's sort of crippling.
What does the headache have to do with the lack of poetry in my soul? At first glance, nothing. The migraines are caused by things like light, stress, dehydration and muscle tension. There is no direct correlation. But in the dazed, paranoid after-ness I wonder whether that bargain with myself was the right one, whether I would be a happier person if I understood other people from that other direction (if I understood other people at all, I wasn't doing so well). I wonder how to get back to that use of simile, and whether I am stable enough to give up the emotional distance I have from everything I touch.
I didn't want to be disconnected from other people even though they always confused and hurt me, so I made it safe to live in my head by not being able to care much about how confused and hurt I was. If you can't feel it, pain may as well not be there. Now that I think that most of the pain is gone, I've been trying to work my way back towards being more empathic, but eventually things get emotionally sticky past the point that my health starts fucking up because I'm stressed out, and I chicken out and shut the paradigm shift back down.
There's got to be a way to be healthy and feel my feelings. I did this to myself deliberately, so there's got to be a way to undo it, right? But I am nothing like the person who started taking these measures back in high school, so I can't just retrace my steps.
I'm not looking for an offer of help, I just want to tell you what's going on in my head. I hope to see my local peeps out at Panopikon/eXcuses Cafe tonight despite the hit-in-the-head feeling of aftermath.
Now I'm going to drink a gallon of water and get some potassium. Wish us luck, loves.
Years ago, I changed the way I think to remove metaphors from the context of my thoughts, because even if postmodernism lacks poetry, it is simple to use and understand. My metaphors were incomprehensible to most sane people; I wanted to be easier to understand. I traded the possibility of being romantic for the probability of communication. But at times like this, all my brain can come up with are thoughts like 'if you're this disappointed in yourself, imagine what you must be like to your friends', and that's sort of crippling.
What does the headache have to do with the lack of poetry in my soul? At first glance, nothing. The migraines are caused by things like light, stress, dehydration and muscle tension. There is no direct correlation. But in the dazed, paranoid after-ness I wonder whether that bargain with myself was the right one, whether I would be a happier person if I understood other people from that other direction (if I understood other people at all, I wasn't doing so well). I wonder how to get back to that use of simile, and whether I am stable enough to give up the emotional distance I have from everything I touch.
I didn't want to be disconnected from other people even though they always confused and hurt me, so I made it safe to live in my head by not being able to care much about how confused and hurt I was. If you can't feel it, pain may as well not be there. Now that I think that most of the pain is gone, I've been trying to work my way back towards being more empathic, but eventually things get emotionally sticky past the point that my health starts fucking up because I'm stressed out, and I chicken out and shut the paradigm shift back down.
There's got to be a way to be healthy and feel my feelings. I did this to myself deliberately, so there's got to be a way to undo it, right? But I am nothing like the person who started taking these measures back in high school, so I can't just retrace my steps.
I'm not looking for an offer of help, I just want to tell you what's going on in my head. I hope to see my local peeps out at Panopikon/eXcuses Cafe tonight despite the hit-in-the-head feeling of aftermath.
Now I'm going to drink a gallon of water and get some potassium. Wish us luck, loves.