I ache today. Mentally. Physically.
It’s been a bulldozer of a day. Of a week, even. It’s been good but just… exhausting. I’ve been good but just… a little all over the place. Not sleeping well in the heatwave. More emotional. More connected. Teetering towards overwhelm. Alternately sky-high and crushingly low. Just TIRED. And all those other things that we say without words.
I’ve got through it. As I always do. As we always do (god willing). But it’s not always easy to. And that’s what I want to talk about today.
I am tired and I don’t have all the answers.
I am tired and sometimes I don’t want people to look to me for answers, either.
I am tired and I just need a rest.
And I am pained, too. And sometimes I’m pained in ways that I can’t express. Blood runs thicker than water, and there is too much context. Sometimes I don’t want to have to explain. I just want to be understood.
You don’t need to know it all in order to understand.
You don’t need to know anything, even. And maybe that’s the secret: the not-knowing; the separation. The way that, from your perspective, looking in, things not only look but feel different. You’re not weighed down. You aren’t constrained by elaborately constructed stories and deeply ingrained meanings. You can breathe easy. And so, you can hear me.
I am not perfect. I am not perfect at all. I can be selfish and self-indulgent and florid and avoidant. And maybe I’m being so right now. Maybe that’s what this is. And maybe what I’m really facing is the depths of my residual self-loathing. Maybe what I’m really connecting with is the struggle to be seen and heard. I am exhausted and I am doing the work. I am exhausted and I am doing my best. And hurt people hurt people; yet you tell me to apologise and don’t acknowledge your own part in it. And I am hurting too. And doesn’t that matter as well?
What hurts right now is the invalidation and lack of awareness. The hypocrisy. Through gritted teeth, with a pained expression on my face and sighing (very) deeply, I see the irony. Yes, we are but mirrors. But it’s a one-way mirror. I see you in me. I see me in you. But you can’t see me. You can’t see or hear me right now. And I am tired. And I am so, so tired. And I am hurt. And what is happening is the familiar rehash of a dynamic of old. And I am tired. I am so tired. And I have come too far to fall.
One of the most painful things in my life is my relationship with my family.
I hadn’t realised how much it still affected me. I hadn’t realised how much it still pained me. Pains me, present tense. I realise now, because I feel it. I realise now, because I am hurt by it. Because here I am, again — alone, rejected, cast out. Wrong. Wrong for speaking my truth. Wrong for seeing through my own and other people’s bullshit. Wrong for saying no. Wrong for saying these words, even. Wrong for not playing small. Wrong for challenging status quo. Wrong for not fitting into neat boxes. Wrong for not doing — or being — what and who you want me to be. Wrong for being me: intrinsically.
My greatest strengths are also my greatest weaknesses.
And it hurts. It still hurts. And I know that these things aren’t true, but I need/ed to cry. I just needed to cry.
Sometimes, you just need to cry.
It is what it is.