xxxo

can't get that damn song out of my head. i love it though.

I had therapy today. I don't really feel like talking about it. It was hard, painful, and scary. Talking about my trauma has been the hardest thing I've ever done. It will get easier, I do know this. A year ago it felt impossible, these days it feels manageable.

I have been thinking a lot how much I need validation from others. I constantly am wondering and asking people, "Do I look okay? Does this outfit look okay? Are you going to leave me? Don't leave me" It's pretty exhausting. Why can't I just be, and not be so afraid and cautious all the time? People leave, this is a fact of life. But I can't bear to think of how my heart will respond when certain people in my life do leave. Can you prepare for something like that?

Night time has been hard lately. I get caught up in my thoughts, my emotions, memories, and flashbacks. I take a hot shower to ground myself and calm down, but I run to my bed and lay paralyzed, sometimes my whole body trembles. Nightmares have been frequent and more intense.

I have been escaping too much lately. My place of escape is not a safe place. It is a place of self destruction and numbness. I need to commit myself to writing more, maybe making collages and painting. I need to escape to a safe place, or maybe...I shouldn't escape at all. Maybe I just need to be here and now and let myself feel, but do it in a safe way...if that makes sense.

I want to love. I want more love in my life. I want to love someone, and have them love me back. But I've been told that, no one can really love you, if you don't love yourself. I don't love myself. Maybe I should learn how. But I want to fall in love, more than anything, and have that person fall in love with me in return. It's an ache in my heart I have felt lately.

That's all for now. Quote of the day is...

There is never a sudden revelation, a complete and tidy explanation for why it happened, or why it ends, or why or who you are. You want one and I want one, but there isn’t one. It comes in bits and pieces, and you stitch them together wherever they fit, and when you are done you hold yourself up, and still there are holes and you are a rag doll, invented, imperfect. And yet you are all that you have, so you must be enough. There is no other way.
Marya Hornbacher