I read once that if you’re not at least a little bit embarrassed by the person you were about a year ago, you’re probably not growing enough. The concept that you’re not going to be the same person in a few years’ time is beautiful and scary and bewildering and also, quite possibly, a big releif. What does it mean if you’re embarrassed by the person you were a month ago, or last week, or yesterday? How fast am I growing, then? I don’t know. There’s something about using shame as a metric for measuring growth that doesn’t feel right, to me. The business of growing and shifting and changing is fuuucking uncomfortable because… in order to grow, you have to be making mistakes all the time. You’ve got to mess up, in order to learn things. Messing up is painful, but it’s nothing compared to the embarrassment of looking back at the asshole that you used to be and not liking them very much… and then slowly realizing that sometime in the future you’re probably going to look back at the person you are right now and think the same things about them. The people you used to be stack up, over time, like beads on a necklace. And you’re stuck with them. You can’t go back and change things that’ve already happened. You can’t go back and make them different, you can’t force them to be anything other than what they are. And I just think… hating the person you used to be doesn’t do anything to change the things that you wish you could change. It’s just an elaborate way of punishing the person you are in this moment. You weren’t literally a lot of different people, over time. You’ve always been you, and you are constantly becoming. The problem with having a self that has been lots of different shapes over time is that you’re going to have to be nice them. The whole lot of them, and that includes the ones you can’t stand. Even when you can’t find it in yourself to be nice, always find a way to be kind. I wish I knew how. If I could choose a metric for measuring growth, it wouldn’t be shame or embarrassment or loathing for the person that I used to be. It just takes up so much time and energy and space that I wish I could be spending in other places. Spinning around in circles with your arms outstretched until you fall down onto the grass. Climbing over fences. Cooking food. Skinny dipping at three o’clock in the morning. Reading a book, or gaming, or writing, or watching videos that make you laugh, or making music again. Playing with friends, or maybe just laying on the floor and talking about anything for centuries. Things that are actually important. So measure growth in something else. Anything else. Cut me in half and count the rings, perhaps. Put my heart on a scale across from a feather. Throw me off of a tall building and, assuming that there is no air resistance, calculate how many units of laughter there are in one human soul. Count the number of beads on the necklace, and be kind. Hope it’s a good night.

It is four in the morning, and my whole entire self hurts.

My thoughts have been racing nonstop for three hours, now. They got so loud that the distractions I’ve been leaning on recently weren’t keeping me safe anymore.

Body is trying to process signals that best translate to English as intense anxiety, sadness, and shame. All three at once is confusing and overwhelming.

Emotions are meant to tell us something important, I think. That is why they exist in the first place. They’re meant to move through you, communicate what they’re trying to say, and then… pass away. But mine get stuck, sometimes. Jammed. They don’t fade after the message is delivered. They stick around until it hurts.

I am trying to sort out where this is happening in my body so that I have something to work with.

Right now, this feeling is showing up as a lump in my throat. My shoulders and neck are tensed up, and my jaw is clenching. My chest is tight and my breathing is shallow. I can also feel it in the hallow space behind my eyes, the tops of my legs, in the back of my head and neck, all across my back, in my upper arms, and in my wrists and hands.

This is worse than usual. It doesn’t usually spread through my entire body like this, which means that there are fewer corners of me that feel kind of okay right now.

The safest feeling places right now are the ones in contact with blankets. Lots of heavy blankets, even though it’s summertime. I am also holding a stuffed animal, which is comforting.

My brain is sifting through memories to find all of the times that I’ve made mistakes and all the things that I don’t like about me, just to fuel all this shame that is burning. The shame, in turn, is fueling the anxiety like nothing else can. And when I dwell in anxious places I often end up feeling so impossibly sad.

And I don’t understand why

And also, shame tends to set off a sharp twinge of, just – not wanting to exist. Followed immediately afterwards by a few moments of kicking myself for having that feeling.

Throughout all of this, there is a healthy portion of existential dread, along with a fair bit of helplessness. This is hard.

Over and over again, rushing, thrumming, burning, aching, shaking, crying, hurting. For hours, and days, and weeks, and sometimes on and off for years.

Fighting against this is really hard. Waiting it out is terrible but sometimes that is the best option that’s available to me.

It’s – not unbearable, but close.

There are going to be nights like this, nights much worse than this, for as long as I am alive. I am going to have to be so strong.

There is a small part of my consciousness that stays calm and quiet, throughout all of these things. There is a presence there that almost doesn’t feel like me.

It’s nurturing, and gentle, and calm, and sure, and kind, and solid. It reminds me to do things like roll over on my side because it’s easier to breathe, and tells me to get up and blow my nose when I need to. It reminds me about coping mechanisms. It doesn’t fight with the spiral of thoughts, it just – doesn’t listen, because it is predominantly focused on making sure that I’m okay, and everything else can wait until the morning.

It isn’t loud, but it’s there, and right now it’s telling me to try to sleep again, a little.

And so I am going to try. 🖤

Being young and stupid and not knowing what the hell you’re doing is a necessary step on your journey to becoming a slightly older person, who still doesn’t know what they’re doing and also has a lot of regrets.

Life is short. Our cells start to die faster than they can be replaced at the age of 25. Ask literally any 25 year old, they will confirm.

The experience of fucking unbearable pain in response to real or perceived rejection is not pathetic. It is human and normal to be scared and sad at the prospect of having to live disconnected from people who matter to you.

…if they’re clearly online and they haven’t texted you back yet, they are probably watching a stupid sixty minute YouTube video of some dipshit trying to start a lawnmower at the bottom of the ocean. Sometimes, nothing else will do.

Negative feedback loops are not written in stone. The trick, obviously, is to stop the negative feedback from looping.

The fact of your existence on this planet in this universe is a beautiful scientific coincidence. Also, having a consciousness living amoung other seperate consciousnesses is such a fucking trip. The way that one person can compose words out of thin air to describe an emotion and then somebody else can come along years later and be moved to tears, but also, I can’t figure out how to sucessfully communicate basic concepts. This is so weird.

If you say “I love you” to a person who thinks they are impossible to love, they will naturally be highly suspicious. And it’s tough to tell someone you love that you love them, when you know they don’t know that it’s true. Tell them anyway. You might need to kind of thwack them over the head with it for a while until the message gets through.

Life isn’t fair, and there is so little that I can do about it. So little. But at least there a few small things that I can keep doing for the rest of my life. When I think about how much time I might have, if I make it safely to whenever I’m going to die… I feel like all the little things might count for something.

Heard recently that mixing a pound of sugar into a ton of concrete will prevent the concrete from setting properly. I want to see if this is true.

Also recently heard about a man who decided to kill himself. But before he went through with it, he figured he might as well do all of the things that he’s always wished he could do but had been too afraid, since it didn’t matter now because he was going to die anyway. He made a list of things. And by the time he got to the end of the list, he no longer wanted to die.

The world doesn’t stop for anyone, and there is never going to be a time when you’re completely ready to do the thing that you’re afraid to do. Return the fucking library book that has been sitting on your nightstand for eleven months, you dumbass

I hope it’s a good night.

• cats who are safe
• all of this rain
• GLaDOS, from Portal
• pandas are no longer an endangered species
• Loki is cannonically bi, which is something
• Also, Owen Wilson. That is all.
• cherry vanilla ice cream, like at Grandpa’s
• healing of small wounds
• tiny frogs on the windshield of my vehicle
• a place to swim
• blue gills
• running water in my house
• fuckin’ geothermal air conditioning system
• professional mental health support network that is covered by insurance
• all of my time with my Jeep, whose name is Helen
• ridiculously inapplicable horoscope predictions
• disordered eating management resources that are helpful
• the one guy at work who understands about needing to rest.
• “i’m ready,” a neat track by Sam Smith and Demi Lovato which has been stuck in my head for this entire week but could absolutely stop at any time and I would be fine with that
• I am a friend, and I have friends, and I am still surprised about this. Anyway it’s real and it is stupidly important

It has been such an objectively ridiculous year to live through. Somewhere along the way… something inside of me got broken, I think. The piece that had always helped me with steadiness was gone.

I felt so alone, and lost, and terrified, and I am still in recovery.

But now… something is different. Shifting. I don’t know how, or when, or why. I think this same stretch of time that left me shaken in so many ways was also a catalyst for another kind of change.

It keeps showing up in unexpected places

It’s hard to put into words.

It’s the way that I walk, the way that I take up space in a room.

It’s the sound of my voice. Louder, clearer. The harmony that is always there. It’s the “I love you” that I can say out loud.

It’s not caring what people think. It’s taking a chance and speaking up for myself, especially when I’m afraid to. It’s not taking shit from anyone.

It’s a touch of defiance. It is knowing that I have a choice.

It’s deciding to let go, and leave.

And it’s also deciding to stay. To keep trying, even when it’s daunting. It’s the decision not to give up, not now, because there is still hope.

It’s daring to think that there might still be love and it’s trying so hard not to cry when I realize that it’s still here, and it never left, and it’s going to be okay.

It is the admission that I have been wrong and probably looked very stupid, that I’ve messed up over and over again and I am most likely going to keep doing this, and that all of those things are so fucking human and that it’s okay and I really do know this

It’s in the moments that I needed to live through in order to even begin to understand, and it’s in all the things that I don’t know yet.

It’s the relief of setting down the weight of a world that I will never be able to heal by myself, even though I want to. And it’s the sensation of lightness I feel after having carried something heavy for too long.

When you set down all of the things that were never yours to carry, you’re better able to carry the things that were always meant to be yours. May you carry them well.

It is perspective. And embarrassment, and confusion, and awkwardness, and lots of swearing as much as possible all the time. It is hilarious coincidence, serendipitous connection, dawning comprehension, and regret.

It’s letting things be what they are, and not trying to force them to be anything else.

It’s… taking myself less seriously. It is relief that this world revolves around the sun, instead of me.

It is hard work, and careful attention to the little things, and wanting to do a good job.

It’s a kiss on the mouth that hasn’t come true yet. It’s the smile I was wearing all day.

It is the laughing. So much laughing. Laughing until my face hurts and my heart aches and there are tears coming out of my eyes. Laughing at myself, and laughing with you, and with him, and it’s awestruck listening and it’s looking up at the stars.

It’s this calm that is there on the outside that helps me stay centered.

It is a very quiet strength, from a grounded place. And it snuck up on me.

I think it’s kind of sexy, tbh.

Something is different.

I hope it’s a good night.

For these last two days I have been staying at the house of a friend who is traveling and needed someone to be with her dog, because she didn’t want him to have to be alone with the sounds of the fireworks.

– this next bit is a sad story –

Once, a long time ago, this friend left a dog alone at home during the fourth of July weekend. The dog was so afraid of the noise that she jumped out of a second story window, and her injuries were so bad that there was nothing they could do.

So I totally understand wanting someone to stay here with this absolute sweetheart of an Australian Shepard. We have hung out before on multiple occasions and are totally excellent friends.

He is pretty low maintenance. He just really, really doesn’t like the sound of the fireworks.

Mostly he just needs someone to sit near him when the sound of distant explosions become too intense. His whole body trembles, and he whines quietly.

Mostly we are just sitting together and listening. He seems comforted by all the hugs.

Once he got up and did a lap around the room, investigating, and asked to go outside into the twilight. When I opened the door, he just stood there and listened. Carefully

Also, this arrangement works beautifully for me because it means that I have entire house to myself for a weekend. The solitude is so peaceful, and the getting away feels like something that I’ve needed for a while.

It’s a good house. Comfy and homelike. The aesthetic here is… a kind of prettiness that only happens when somebody who pays attention to the little things has lived in once place for a long time.

There is a pool in the backyard, here, and the water is pleasantly cool. I snuck out after the fireworks had quieted down and swam around in circles in the dark. There were so many fireflies. I just barely made it inside before the rain came.

I am trying to figure out whether or not I have anything to say about the holiday that is happening around me. I am looking for the words.

For right now, I am watching over a friend who needs comforting. I am swimming in the dark. I am sitting in the quiet, and I’m thinking all the time.

I hope it’s a good time.