break

the repercussions of the last post have made me realise that writing is not my process of decentering. or at least is not when it is needed as first aid. and the protocol now is to by default write as first response rather than a decentering process.

last night i was blind. it felt like hitting a wall over and over and over. or a glass wall, which is deceiving. how is it that i cannot see anything? or - how is it that i can see but cannot, if it were a matter of life and death, respond in the correct way?

i woke up today feeling like i hadn't slept and but remembering a strange dream about one of the programs being developed at work. i recalled the conversation from the previous night and was filled with sadness. and then i read the messages in my phone and it was like the sadness just went over the edge, dropped, broke into pieces, and revealed a tiny seed of some kind of opposite feeling.

i am tired of this. and i hate it. and it doesn't make sense that things are like this. and last night the only light i felt was when i realised what should happen. i had a vision of rebuilding that never occurred before because i was too busy burying myself alive. i have been burying myself alive for the most part of six years. decapitating myself and grossly limiting my reach. i refused to think i was bigger than my small vision of myself. how rude. the worst of me stealing myself away from people i loved. false humility at its finest, the ugliest form of pride. it can be so covert. it can be so subtle and for the most part there are quick fixes to hide it. and yet it's still there. and you won't know it's persisted until - i didn't know it persisted until it finally ate away all of me and broke through the surface, finishing off the shell. and i allowed this. the way i wrote about quasi-important things in the last post, i convinced myself that either everything else was more important, or that there was no way i could measure up. i took a piece of home and preserved it best i could to fool myself that i was still part of the whole home. i wasn't. and i ignored the feelings of things not being enough. because i'm so used to cutting everything down to fit in a box. or to be mobile. this home was big because it carried big hearts. and big dreams. and the greatest love. and i had the audacity to cut it down, for my convenience. selfishly thinking that my actions were inconsequential, in complete dishonour of the one who created me and the ones who see me in his light. or see me period. this will never be forgotten but the only way to stay alive with this memory and this pain is to be and to do everything i can to grow in the opposite direction.

this home cannot be lost and i am promising to take all the right steps to be in it again.