Why does coming home feel like stopping my heart?
Stopping progress.
What am I currently doing in LA that is so important and fragile that leaving it for two weeks makes me think I might have to start all over when I return.
I think part of it has to do with the cycle I'm returning to here in Kentucky. A cycle that I don't actually fit into anymore. A cycle that I am, regardless, expected to fit into. I have been trying to allow myself to observe the cycle without getting sucked into it. To set healthy boundaries between my mind and the people I call family. Boundaries don't really exist in my family.
They're insulting. We're your family. We love you. We know you.
And that is such a big thing.
They know me. They know a version of me that I think I want very desperately to have no part of.
Which is a reason for the sudden quest for identity.
There are parts of me that I do not want to exist. So if I were to admit they existed and took the time to break down the barriers I had set up to block them, who would I be?
I talked about being 'sunshine and pixie dust' in the last post. Said it was a burden. And it is, but it was a burden that I took on as a trade for not having to deal with me. All of me.
I wanted so desperately to be the happy go lucky, easy to laugh gal, I thought others wanted me to be that I started cutting away at the pieces that didn't allow for that.
My mom passed away two years ago and it was just the worst. A ton of things came to the surface at the time. Grief sifted through my deepest fears and strained out only the most bitter thoughts it could find.
I refused to deal with it. Pulled a classic 'push it down' move and when it finally exploded I realized that I just had to let it runs its course.
This might seem like an obvious statement but I swear I am just now realizing this about myself, I super hate grieving. I hate being sad. I hate being angry. I fight it so hard. So hard, in fact, that I am pretty sure I just thought I was good at dealing with things.
And if I tried to avoid dealing with something as large as the death of my mother what other things are hiding in my soul, draining me of energy because I don't want to admit it is happening?
And if I do admit it is happening, that I tried to cut myself off from pieces of me that I deem ugly does that mean I think I'm ugly? And if I think I'm ugly what am I projecting out into the world?
I thought naming this blog 'I Don't Know' was kind of a cop out for not wanting to worry about the name but I'm starting to think it is a pretty good mantra of sorts.
I don't know if I think I'm ugly.
I don't know if I'm going to learn that I am a very sad person with the ability to put on a very large smile.
Another crazy thought I just realized was in my head: I don't like to start searching for the answer if I don't know what it will be.
Cool. So. Here's to going against my instincts and being okay with not knowing and still searching.
I think part of it has to do with the cycle I'm returning to here in Kentucky. A cycle that I don't actually fit into anymore. A cycle that I am, regardless, expected to fit into. I have been trying to allow myself to observe the cycle without getting sucked into it. To set healthy boundaries between my mind and the people I call family. Boundaries don't really exist in my family.
They're insulting. We're your family. We love you. We know you.
And that is such a big thing.
They know me. They know a version of me that I think I want very desperately to have no part of.
Which is a reason for the sudden quest for identity.
There are parts of me that I do not want to exist. So if I were to admit they existed and took the time to break down the barriers I had set up to block them, who would I be?
I talked about being 'sunshine and pixie dust' in the last post. Said it was a burden. And it is, but it was a burden that I took on as a trade for not having to deal with me. All of me.
I wanted so desperately to be the happy go lucky, easy to laugh gal, I thought others wanted me to be that I started cutting away at the pieces that didn't allow for that.
My mom passed away two years ago and it was just the worst. A ton of things came to the surface at the time. Grief sifted through my deepest fears and strained out only the most bitter thoughts it could find.
I refused to deal with it. Pulled a classic 'push it down' move and when it finally exploded I realized that I just had to let it runs its course.
This might seem like an obvious statement but I swear I am just now realizing this about myself, I super hate grieving. I hate being sad. I hate being angry. I fight it so hard. So hard, in fact, that I am pretty sure I just thought I was good at dealing with things.
And if I tried to avoid dealing with something as large as the death of my mother what other things are hiding in my soul, draining me of energy because I don't want to admit it is happening?
And if I do admit it is happening, that I tried to cut myself off from pieces of me that I deem ugly does that mean I think I'm ugly? And if I think I'm ugly what am I projecting out into the world?
I thought naming this blog 'I Don't Know' was kind of a cop out for not wanting to worry about the name but I'm starting to think it is a pretty good mantra of sorts.
I don't know if I think I'm ugly.
I don't know if I'm going to learn that I am a very sad person with the ability to put on a very large smile.
Another crazy thought I just realized was in my head: I don't like to start searching for the answer if I don't know what it will be.
Cool. So. Here's to going against my instincts and being okay with not knowing and still searching.
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