Hey, Miss J!

This is a morning blog post. No wai!

To be honest, I rolled out of bed this morning and felt like I was smothering. Not only did I forget to plug myself in so I can breathe properly at night, I forgot to put my brace on.

I didn’t forget to move my laptop to the other side of the bed, but…

What I failed to do versus what I actually did –

That’s just semantics, right?

Why was the laptop in bed with me? I have no idea either. The last time I even saved was before 11 last night. When I moved the laptop, it was after midnight.

That was stupid. I had hours of pretty unproductive sleep because of that. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I assumed that I would type up a little more in that supplementary section before going to bed.

So, I brought my laptop to the bed. Stared at the login screen for way too long…

And went to sleep with it pushed out of the way.

I woke up wondering at first why I couldn’t breathe properly, then questioned what on earth my computer was doing in bed with me. I normally don’t type on the PC’s keyboard because it’s far too straight. Using the ergonomic board makes life ten thousand times better.

So my early morning consisted of me sitting on the side of the bed and wondering if I should even write this post. It is early in the morning.

Then, I wanted to work on the supplement for NtC.

And once again, I was frustrated. Normally, I prefer no straight keyboard – but with a bum wrist? Absolutely not. So I ended up shuffling, that’s the best way I can describe it, back to my desk to plug my laptop in over here again.

I’m a music nerd, so I turned on the music I normally listen to. So far, I’ve heard in order: Chicago, Backstreet Boys, Debbie Gibson, Demi Lovato and Enya. The latter of those, I really enjoy. That doesn’t mean that I don’t like the others but as all things musical with me, there’s some associated memory.

Memories are why I can’t handle listening to Richard Marx much, or why I felt so empty listening to Backstreet Boys. Years ago, I had one of their CDs and one of my friends really liked them. So, I gave the CD to her as a gift. What happened after that?

Well…

Sometimes the people that come into our lives bring us joy – and sometimes they come to provide us with a valuable lesson. It’s proven to be painfully true in my life…

But…

What lesson was I supposed to learn, aside from not trusting others at all?

I hold so many memories that cause me pain.

I’ll be frank.

When I received this assignment to “Write Out” my feelings, I didn’t know it would be like this. I feel like I’m being forced to face so much of who I truly am.

The joy, the laughter, the pains and the tears.

I’m finding that during much of my life, I was in pain and crying for help – and no one wanted to listen.

What a terrible waste of twenty years.

I reacted by writing stories that would soothe me. My fuel for them is music. What I’m thinking can be easily influenced by what I’m listening to.

I’ve dealt with fractured and destroyed friendships, mistrust, anger with myself, feelings of being isolated, feelings of betrayal and feelings of being abandoned.

And all of those wasted years resulted in the broken husk I’ve become now.

Do I have feelings? I do…

These days, I have friendship – true friendship. They know so much about me, things that I would be terrified to talk about here. Stigma is a terrible thing, and I’d prefer to avoid it as long as possible.

I’m already an outlier from most people. The distance I keep myself at is painful, but it’s one of the few ways I can survive.

Do I feel love?

Yes, and it’s so painful when it’s turned away by the recipients.

It reinforces the thought that I am a freak and a monster. I hate having periods of depression because inside I’m screaming. I keep crying out for help, for something to end the pain. I’ve been so weathered from years of being unheard that when I’m told “It’s okay. You can tell me.”, I don’t always know how well I can trust it.

But I do. Because I want someone to care. I want someone who loves me, even if it’s mainly in my mind. I want to be told that I’m not sick, that I’m a normal person who has gone through trauma – that I didn’t bring what’s happened to me it on myself.

So many years of being blamed for being hurt.

When you’re so badly damaged by the main people you’re supposed to be able to trust … who can you?

I think I’m going to just leave this here. I can’t go any further, not right now.

I just remembered I was supposed to explain what a ‘partial’ hermit is. I currently have no time nor the headspace for that.

Maybe I should agree to a new medicine regimen. Even if it leaves me void of communicable emotion, at least I shouldn’t always feel so sad.

Till Then

~J. Lyst