Decompression is a funny thing.. to me anyways. The thing about growing up the way I did is that you don't realize what's happened until it stops happening and you don't realize something is wrong until you learn what is commonly right. I don't believe I was ever a child. I perfected the arts of education by observation & rationalization as I learned to speak and learned to withstand the perils of strength before I knew what it was. I was 23 for 24 years. Its taken me this long to get where I am and looking over everything I am continually disappointed with my progress. All the while analyzing & reanalyzing the past & continuing trials, tribulations and mixed up memories. A friend of mine describes these flourishes of thought as "bubbles." I think of them as a eruptions because their impact is far more emotionally detrimental than that of a bubble.
Being 24 without a career or a husband or a child but with "all the potential in the world" is a very awkward place. Viewing most of the world as conquerable but everything you actually want as overwhelmingly terrifying & unattainable is discouraging. Realizing in your mid 20's that you're not sure you want to be the person you've turned yourself into and attempting to change the opinions of ill opinioned, over middle aged conservative America is exhausting and so is battling the world along with yourself & everyone involved.
"What are you doing with your life?" Good question, sir/ madam/intrigued individual. I have no idea really. I really don't care. I want to be happy and when I am mature & settled enough a human being I hope to take on a career that will service the world in some wonderfully helpful way but that time is not now. Just like I want to be an amazing wife & mother and God willing one day I will but that time has not come.. neither has a spouse or the prospect there of for that matter. I say that with a lot of attitude at this moment because the tale that is as old as time, men are stupid. My personal version of the novel began in 1991 when I was banned from the bus for 2 weeks for kicking a boy in the face. This particular boy would begin a neverending parade of insecure men that would assume that just because they felt a certain way about me, that I would (of course) feel the same way for them and we would be in love as true soulmates, never to part. This theory is ridiculous to me and very off putting. Presumption is obsurd in matters of emotion. And with that said, I am a fool. Which brings us to my other typical type, that is luckily a rare and eclipse like occurance. Effortlessly striking & entrancing, some mysterious quality, casually charming & paralyzingly attractive and stealthily sadistic & manipulative. Maybe I'm a gluton for punishment but I'm also a quick study and the more experience I gain the more conveluted & complicated the situations become.
I've dated 3 guys in the past 5 months (I use the term "dated" extremely loosely.) Guy 1-dream within a dream-epic to unnecessary to terrifying to chill to repulsive. Guy 2-infamous aquarian-different to sketchy to strangely likeable to annoyingly comical and something to pay attention to out of spite & the need for balance. Guy 3 (which is only listed for honorable mention & it was pretty dishonorable but w/e) "replacing the dream" a joke-personal fulfillment-laughable to cute to hot to lackluster to completely disappointing to absolutely nothing, in record time might I add. And all the while I have these "fellow" helpless romantics seeking me out (online because that is apparently the only suitable way to become involved-romanticly or otherwise-with someone these days) and here I sit high a top my pedastal with no regard for these suiters because I do not want a man to grovel for my affections. I want them taken from me and replaced with the relentless love of another. It is no secret that I am in love with love, I'm just waiting for love to be in love with me. I am lost without that fulfillment. Blame the parental issues but it is reality regardless. I am not self motivated. I need something to want to be better for. And yes, I know I should be enough or that I should recognize that creating a better future for myself now will benefit whatever or whomever my future holds but its really taking a while for that to sink in & really take an effect on my existence.
Decompression though, its funny because it takes so long and when over 2 decades overdue you have to recognize that if you would've been like everyone else and let it go as it came or just let it roll off instead of absorbing it, you wouldn't need to be going through this entire process now. Peeling back layer after layer of damaged humanity, each more vulnerable & seemingly permanent than the last. Recognizing that the world can't see the stories written under my skin and that the future has no memory to hold the past against me. But with every thing I let go of, another supressed memory, fear or emotion comes up. Its like psychological Tetris. But I am dealing.
I'm hoping this blog will make it easier for me to become extroverted enough to share my inner creativity. The contents of my brain could create a pair of rose colored glasses large enough for the world to share and I think its time we all get a different view.
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