Miranda :flag_transgender:🐙 on Nostr: This was a really dark afternoon and evening (with some lighter moments - if we ...
This was a really dark afternoon and evening (with some lighter moments - if we talked you're probably part of them 💜) I spent quite a lot of time crying, and I'm not even sure why exactly. Yes there is the breakup, and it still hurts, sometimes a lot, but it's not only about the breakup. I feel like I'm falling apart. I thought I was done falling apart. I'm so tired of that. Now should be the time to rebuild myself from the parts that fell apart, not... more of that.
Oh, my life is not 100% bad. I've got wonderful people in it who love me and who I love, a body I like and with which I do things I like, and a few activities and hobbies I enjoy. But the rest ? It's just meaningless. A shadow. Going through the motions. Trying out new things, doing old things, pretending I care, pretending some things work and other don't, pretending it's life. It doesn't feel like life. The worst is probably my job. It's not horrible, it's not even *bad*; it can be intellectually stimulating sometimes, it pays well, and my colleagues are okay really, but actually caring about the work? Seriously? People invest their emotions, time and life energy into *that*? I'm not judging, exactly, but to me, in my present state, this just feels like a fucking *joke*. Something grotesque, absurd, impossible to consider seriously. It feels unreal, and being in the middle of this unreal world is more and more taxing and maddening.
I want it all. It's inked on my arm now. But it seems again that I have very, very little of what I want. I don't even feel that confused, things are quite clear, I'm just feeling, one more time, like a little girl wanting to climb a very, very tall mountain. I know the only way forward is one step at a time. I even have a map I had drawn myself a few weeks ago, a plan to climb the mountain. But the little girl in me is scared, and the rest of me is... just so fucking tired. (And the map, I still trust it, somewhat, but at times like now it seems like it only makes me run in circles.)
I know mourning takes time, I know you need to lose to know how to win, I know things are better after you cry, I know that light and beauty can blossom from places of darkness. I know all this, I've lived through all of this, several times, and this is not even the worst I've been, far from it. It just seems the reward for self-work is more self-work. And I'm so weary.
And I feel so fragile. Four weeks ago, life just felt wonderful. And it was. But that house of cards got toppled.
Oh, my life is not 100% bad. I've got wonderful people in it who love me and who I love, a body I like and with which I do things I like, and a few activities and hobbies I enjoy. But the rest ? It's just meaningless. A shadow. Going through the motions. Trying out new things, doing old things, pretending I care, pretending some things work and other don't, pretending it's life. It doesn't feel like life. The worst is probably my job. It's not horrible, it's not even *bad*; it can be intellectually stimulating sometimes, it pays well, and my colleagues are okay really, but actually caring about the work? Seriously? People invest their emotions, time and life energy into *that*? I'm not judging, exactly, but to me, in my present state, this just feels like a fucking *joke*. Something grotesque, absurd, impossible to consider seriously. It feels unreal, and being in the middle of this unreal world is more and more taxing and maddening.
I want it all. It's inked on my arm now. But it seems again that I have very, very little of what I want. I don't even feel that confused, things are quite clear, I'm just feeling, one more time, like a little girl wanting to climb a very, very tall mountain. I know the only way forward is one step at a time. I even have a map I had drawn myself a few weeks ago, a plan to climb the mountain. But the little girl in me is scared, and the rest of me is... just so fucking tired. (And the map, I still trust it, somewhat, but at times like now it seems like it only makes me run in circles.)
I know mourning takes time, I know you need to lose to know how to win, I know things are better after you cry, I know that light and beauty can blossom from places of darkness. I know all this, I've lived through all of this, several times, and this is not even the worst I've been, far from it. It just seems the reward for self-work is more self-work. And I'm so weary.
And I feel so fragile. Four weeks ago, life just felt wonderful. And it was. But that house of cards got toppled.