Where is my anchor to windward?
Busy week with travel and work investments and disruptions at home. And I'm still trying to do some caretaking for a friend who got injured in a horse accident.
I exchanged a few disconnected messages with my ex about her health problem. She said she never feels safe and I asked if there was a time she did. Kinda like "Make America Safe Again." Imagining a past that never existed and then making the present as terrifying and stupid as possible (I'm referring to anyone who sucks up to Trump and his job). I'm sure my ex is terrified—she takes meds three times a day she says and believes she will die if she misses a dose. Something to do with cortisol.
When I'm out of balance, I freeze. I used to fight and flight with my ex, who was disappointed in such grand ways with me and her own life. Now I'm like a partridge along a hiking trail. I flap my wings percussively once, when confronted with danger, and then sit patiently waiting for the real blow to fall.
I'm confused and sensitive to this, my own weakness. And the disorder and uncertainty I feel every day feels like co-regulation with my environment. There's no difference between my inner self and the outer world. Disordered, full of trash that should be disposed of, embarrassing/shameful.
I'm fairly certain this experience—this "existential crisis"—will not abate. I fear that it may get worse. I am not strong enough to carry this burden much longer, or take on extra loads, but I am so so alone and I've never learned to ask for help in meaningful ways or effectively. When I do I spend more energy thanking others than whatever I originally conserved by asking—praise out of sync with the actual deed or deeds.
I'm so fucked up! I don't think I'll ever get my feet firmly planted on the ground. And I'm buffetted by the smallest thing, knocked off center and reactive 24/7. Even when asleep! No thing goes exactly right and the pieces no longer offer a logical narrative or hint of a larger purpose. Where is my anchor to windward?
Where is the rock I can hold on to in this topsy turvy hell?
I exchanged a few disconnected messages with my ex about her health problem. She said she never feels safe and I asked if there was a time she did. Kinda like "Make America Safe Again." Imagining a past that never existed and then making the present as terrifying and stupid as possible (I'm referring to anyone who sucks up to Trump and his job). I'm sure my ex is terrified—she takes meds three times a day she says and believes she will die if she misses a dose. Something to do with cortisol.
When I'm out of balance, I freeze. I used to fight and flight with my ex, who was disappointed in such grand ways with me and her own life. Now I'm like a partridge along a hiking trail. I flap my wings percussively once, when confronted with danger, and then sit patiently waiting for the real blow to fall.
I'm confused and sensitive to this, my own weakness. And the disorder and uncertainty I feel every day feels like co-regulation with my environment. There's no difference between my inner self and the outer world. Disordered, full of trash that should be disposed of, embarrassing/shameful.
I'm fairly certain this experience—this "existential crisis"—will not abate. I fear that it may get worse. I am not strong enough to carry this burden much longer, or take on extra loads, but I am so so alone and I've never learned to ask for help in meaningful ways or effectively. When I do I spend more energy thanking others than whatever I originally conserved by asking—praise out of sync with the actual deed or deeds.
I'm so fucked up! I don't think I'll ever get my feet firmly planted on the ground. And I'm buffetted by the smallest thing, knocked off center and reactive 24/7. Even when asleep! No thing goes exactly right and the pieces no longer offer a logical narrative or hint of a larger purpose. Where is my anchor to windward?
Where is the rock I can hold on to in this topsy turvy hell?
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