Aug 02, 2014 23:08
The collective of weight of having kept words cramped up in my head for so long is astounding.
The chance to really speak and be heard was a core principle of my younger self. One that I believed must be honored on both sides of any interaction, but that I could give a little more ear and a bit less tongue and maybe help someone.
I realize I was wrong in this or at least in investing emotion so strongly in the listening. I was wrong in shutting up so fiercly in the recursive that I cut myself out of my own support networks. I went , essentially, emotionally and socially off the grid for alot of people.
Then I *did* go off everyones radar with loss of 1st bigboy job and the subsequent ..well, we shall say "troubles" but in reality we know it means "I was unemployed and sad as a bad fuck"
I've had the thoughts swirling to talk or write..and writing seems safer since the people I see day to day do not know the history.
In the end it doesn't matter. Writing it makes me re-exmaine it and remember and .. perhaps that is the best thing. The emotional equivalent of walk it off or phobia exposure therapy. Interact with the things that make you twitch till you don't twitch.