10:57 as I first type words. Saturday morning. A bit of a chill in the air, a fuckload of pollen, but a nice Spring sun.
I can never remember if I have already mentioned that I have to begin every entry with something about where and when I am. It’s usually something about the weather. It’s a grounding exercise. A little ritual. In emails and my more public essays, I delete that part in the edit. But I always have to write it. Here in Diaryland, it feels safe to keep it. Feels wrong not to keep it in a way.
My head is a mess today, but in maybe a good way.
I don’t deal with conflict well at all. I am trying to be gentle with myself, but this is an aspect of me that I very much dislike and want to change.
Every conflict feels like rejection. I blame myself for everything. I implode.
I have been accused of being manipulative, and to a degree, I think they’re right, but it’s very unintentional.
It’s just that I am so utterly consumed with being “good” and “causing no harm” that when I am confronted with some harm that I may have caused, I sink into a deep despair. Brené Brown said the difference between guilt and shame is with guilt it’s: “I did something wrong.” But with shame, it’s: “I am something wrong.”
And for me, it’s all shame, all the time. Even when I am not in the wrong.
That, among other things, is why I am a bit of a recluse. I just can’t deal with humans. There are far too many misunderstandings and hurt feelings and subconscious behaviors.
I think about this a lot, but it feels more this week.
The ways I’ve withdrawn from the world to keep myself safe, and how I am still not safe, that safety (emotional or physical) is an illusion.
If I always avoid conflict, I will never get better at conflict. And my avoidance of the world is only stunting my growth.
I have been terrified of writing publicly for a few years now. Scared to death of it. And I am much more terrified of these ideas I have for building and fostering community.
I waste my art by scribbling my words on the walls of my mind instead of paper, knowing that they will be washed away with each wave of new thought and distracting sound.
It is time, beyond time, for me to step back out into the light.
Or maybe it’s not.
It’s like life with a broken leg. Too much bed rest leads to entropy, but going for a run too soon might cause severe damage.
Step by step, I guess.
As the poet Sparrow once said,
Outside my front door is the entire world.
11:43 a.m. - 2024-04-06
Recent entries:
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I don't know - 2024-03-08
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