Hey, guys. 

So, ya know how you always get your best ideas in the shower? Well, guess who is taking a friggin' bubble bath.


I read this thing last night. About how happiness is a trap. It's the end goal, when everything makes sense and all the puzzle pieces come together. And then you're done. You feel empty and you think there's nothing left to accomplish and then everything spirals quickly out of control and you end up..... unhappy. Again.


I'm currently in the process of soul searching and re-finding myself and all that other good shit. So, seeing something like that made my insides feel kind of funny. I'm happy. Good job, dream job, quickly climbing the ladder.... Maybe that's the issue. Maybe the fact that that it quite literally the good is the problem. 


I'm absorbed in my work. I've let it just absolutely consume me. Which, is okay? I think. Because I love it. But I can see how damaging it is too. Because now when something goes wrong, I can go to my happy place. For 6-12 hours a day. At least 5 days a week. And it makes all those bad feelings quiet. Which means I don't ever actually have to address them. 


But lets be honest, did I ever really address them to begin with? My best friend made my heart pretty sad the other day. She said that she feels that I never really want to deal with her feelings or her issues, that I never pay attention to her when things go wrong. And while I can't say that's the whole truth, it's not far off. Very simply put though, I hardly pay attention to me when I have problems. Let alone other people. 


In just the past 6 months my aunt died, my mom had open heart surgery, my grandma had open heart surgery, my cousin went comatose for two solid months, my family had to abruptly adopt three extra children, and I broke up with a long term boyfriend. And that's just what I can list now. Let alone all off the little things in between. Which I think it's fair to say that that is a lot, right? 


Look at me. Seeking validation that these things were bad enough for me to have legitimate emotions about them. How is that even a thought in my head? What makes something bad enough to be worthy of being felt? Why does my brain think that I need to measure trauma in order for it to be adequate. I blame the abuse. The gentle and loving encouragement to not be human, to not feel things, to be pliable in all aspects, always. 


I spent the majority of my formative years in environments that discouraged growth. And I guess I always just go back to that when I find character flaws in myself. I guess it's just getting to the point where I'm starting to wonder if I'm just a shit person because I'm a shit person.


That's not fair to say. That sounds like a pity party. But, really. In so few words. At what point do I have to suck it up, put on my big girl panties, and say that I have full control over myself and the changes I make within myself and for myself? How long do I plan to play the victim?


Victim. What a harsh word. I don't like that I said that. But this is an honest journal, no going back. Victim. Maybe that's what I'm running from. That word, that mindset. But maybe I'm milking that too. I don't know. 


I had a dream about him. The bad guy. And it really scared me. And I hate that even the idea of him still scares me because it shows that even now he has some kind of control over me. And I hate it. Hate HAte HATE it. But I don't know what else to do either. 


I'm just rambling now. And my bath is getting cold. I think I'll be done for now. But I'll be back. 

I need to utilize this place again. 


I need a home. 

<3 <3 <3