I Am, and That's Enough

"Doll Parts" by Hole

Today, I am somehow managing to experience hope in my healing. 

I am feeling a depression lingering over my head like a dark cloud. I am feeling a fight against lots of negative self talk, and I am feeling a fight for maintaining the life I want to keep leading. 

I have worked so so very hard for everything I have become in life. And fighting to keep a hold on that in the midst of a terrible depression is even harder than I even could have predicted. 

I know that on the other side of this is me, fierce, not to be fucked with, SAFE, sane, and healthier than I've ever been. But that felt like me just some 7 months ago. Here we are again. 

And because it feels repetitious, I have these blog posts to look back on, and those moments to remember, and they are coming to me in full bodily form. I am remembering what it feels like to have control over my life again. It is excruciatingly hard. It feels terribly lonely sometimes. I feel like I'm losing my mind and I depersonalize something fierce sometimes. I worry what others will think of the life I want to create. I worry I won't find the people I need in it. 

But then I always somehow manage to. I always, and I do mean always, somehow find myself picking myself back up again and finding the answers. Always. Every single time. I always do. I always do. I always do. I always do. I always do. 

That always doing makes room for me to trust myself, and my future self, and my present self, and hell, even my past self that led me to today. I love them, and they love me, and I love the future me, and they also love me, and us. There's so much self love to be had. 

It's extremely hard these days. That self love. I can't even describe it. I'm not certain I feel it most days. I feel a lot of self hate. And I suppose it's partly because for things to get better sometimes, they have to get worse first. I am drawing up to my surface all the things I've come to hate about myself, and not allowing it to remain. 

It is HARD. It's comfortable not trusting myself and it's comfortable hating parts of myself that don't deserve it. I'd rather just not think about it some days. But it always finds me, and because I am not settling for anything less than self love in all areas of me and my life, it scares me. 

"GASP! There is a part of myself I do not yet love! Welllllll, we must fix this!"

And it is HARD. So so so very hard. But again, out of instinct, sheer force of will, spite, fight, and my always doing, I manage to make it through to myself. Even if it's a step out of line or a step in a weird direction. It's a step, and at least I am stepping, not sitting still, forever wallowing, and isolating. I am getting better and learning to love myself in depression. I am worthy of love even when I'm depressed. 

I love you, little Martina. You matter, to me, to your loved ones, and to the world. You are found, held, present, and so so so very important and loved. I love you so very much and hope you know and remember this. You are so very special to me, there is no one like you, and you are uniquely found in me because.... I AM you! :)

"I am
doll eyes
doll mouth
doll legs"

I Miss You

 Listen to The Night We Met, the Micky cover. Lord Huron's version isn't painful enough for this post. 

Today is a force myself out of bed day. Everything in me desires to glue itself to my bed, cry all day, and dissociate from all the overwhelm. 

It is my 2nd day off and my days off always catch up to me. I am getting bad again. 

I'm having trouble getting enough sleep, I'm struggling to eat sufficiently, and I'm trying to distract myself from my feelings. 

The distraction is nice because I certainly can't wallow in them. 

But goddamn, it's been 5 weeks and so much of the pain is just the same. I've gleaned so much wisdom over this time, but the grief is still there. 

I miss my partner something fierce, something awful, something dreadful that makes me roll around in bed feeling incredibly and overwhelmingly itchy. It's like I want them here with me cuddling but they are 5 weeks gone. 

And to go from talking all day everyday to hearing not a peep for 5 weeks feels like hell. It will only get worse from here on out, and I am not certain how to cope with that. I honestly don't know if I can, my body keeps telling me. But I must. 

I hate having lost a love of my life, and in an unfair way. I am here lately consumed with so many feelings I can't quite make sense of. And I suppose it's the reality of knowing that when I make sense of them, I am letting go. 

God, I hate letting go. 

"I had all of you, most of you, some, and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Take me back to the night we met"