Rooms

Do you remember your bedroom growing up? I had a few. 

Up until I was 10, I shared my room with my older sister... I had my own room, after that. I had a room at Dad's house, but it wasn't really my room... I had a few bedrooms at my mom's bc they changed so much... We moved a lot... 

My room at Dad's was ...girlie and barren. Mom's was collectables and books. At Mom's, I decorated the border with pictures of old muscle cars from a calendar I used to get every Christmas. A lot LOT of Corvettes and mustangs and chargers... A few concept cars. 

On my folding doors, I used wall putty to put up photos of family and friends. So I wouldn't feel so out of touch... 

In HS, my mom got us each a phone line. She got sister a clear boring one, the whole casing and receiver was transparent.... But mine? She got me a '63 silver t top stingray. It was so cool!

Tires got in the way sometimes but it made me very happy. 

In Juno, when she had a cheeseburger 🍔 phone... I understood the joke. Lol

...

Do you think our parents have room in their hearts to accept our authentic selves? I don't have my stuff together and disassociate a lot... I try to get out of the house but I feel so overwhelmingly trapped. I have no money to do anything with and all my friends have their own lives so it's really difficult cultivating friendships when scheduling is a nightmare. What am I supposed to worry about and when am I supposed to be doing something. When am I supposed to self care and when am I supposed to sleep? When am I supposed to clean and when am I supposed to eat? 

What should my day to day look like? 

What does it mean when I don't have any spoons at the end of my day? What does it mean when I can barely get out of bed? 

I had to move again, without my partner and reform my entire life, I'm in a transitional perpetual holding pattern... I had to change my life drastically. Again. 

I am so tired. 

So very tired. I'll need to move again in March and I haven't any idea where or who... I want to live somewhere more permanently. I've never been so completely alone. My family would be there for me if I really needed them but... They're toxic. They caused a lot of the trauma that I am working through. How do I let them in when they remain in denile of what actually happened...?

Asking some new person for BIG help that is such a drastic no no... Or even a friend. How do you ask for that kind of help when I've successfully isolated myself from everyone... ?

...

Yesterday, I spent a few hours outside on a gorgeous day, with Chefson. He showed me his art and we talked about dicks and boobs and moms and trauma and past relationships... It's really nice to talk to someone who doesn't just want to bone me. Someone who wants to know me like I want to know them. 

Foreign concept, this thing... A mutual road of emotions? Of acceptance?

Witchcraft!

Good thing it's spooky season.

Snow.




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