I’ve started and restarted this post a few times now already. I guess, much like my life, I can’t find the direction I want to go in.
I am feeling a little bit better than I have been feeling, which overall, is a win. Hopefully I’m out of the funk that going on my trip put me in… now I just need to rebuild. I’m still feeling quite off…but maybe just not as urgently off as I was.
For me, the small things help. A LOT. My best friend of 22 years has shown up for me in a big way over the past few days, and I don’t know if she even knows how much she’s helped.
She Door Dashed me some Starbucks yesterday morning so I’d have something that made me smile when I woke up. It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot, and it made me feel loved and cared about. Which, in times where I feel so desperately bad…it helped. We live many states apart, so it can be hard to know what to do to help when the other one is struggling. It’s hard to show up when you can’t just show up.
I’ve been drinking significantly more than my “allowed” amount, the amount we talk about and aim for in therapy. So I have a lot of work ahead of me now to get back to that place. I like that place a lot better than where I am now.
I feel like I’m struggling with my words today. It’s like, I want to write. And I have a lot on my chest that needs to come out. But I can’t find the words. Nothing I write is exactly matching how I’m feeling.
Usually, when that happens, I end up later on realizing how disconnected from myself I really am. I think that’s what’s happening now. I’ve shut down and isolated myself and my feelings for so long, and then I shut down from myself too.
And only when I started opening up and started talking…that’s when the walls came down. But even still, I was left with a mess.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m trying to say. This is probably the least logical blog post of all time. Shit.
My brain and my heart feel disconnected. I’m incredibly shut down, even from myself. It’s helped that my best friend has been really supportive over the past few days. Even talking about nothing serious, and just life things. Like chickens. And babies. And music.
That’s the stuff that helps. Maybe it helps the most.
Maybe, talking about all of those things that shouldn’t seem to matter is the thing that I do need. To bring me back to myself and to kind of…reconnect. Like, oh. Yeah. I do like those things. Remembering the little things that make me a person. Instead of just…whoever I’ve become that lives to serve my family and get shit on every step of the way.
Maybe that’s it.
I don’t know much right now. But I know I need to keep writing and talking. Because I know that’s the only way I’m going to find myself again.