Okay I’m done. Thanks, Springtime!
Okay I’m done. Thanks, Springtime!
everyday when I take the subway to work I imagine Chihiro and No-Face riding with me
Even now in reading over things posted here over the years, I have about an 80% chance of knowing whatever the hell I was referring to at the time. So, in that line of thinking, here’s some honesty, y’all. It’s like finally clicked after eighteen or so months of pretty intensive therapy, that maybe this is the thing I’m trying the hardest to do right now. Like, it feels so Great to see how much positive press my parade received this year, and it feels really great to be praised at work, and it’s nice to know that next door to my bedroom - in my studio - are three new paintings I’m working on now. Those are things I was really wanting to do well and now am doing them, but maybe therapy is the thing I actually need to do well. Outside of the need to have money and, you know, eat and sleep. But, I’ve stopped drinking, and I’m basically done calling Aaron back, and all these things that seemed important and will take up a lot of space in my brain for a couple days or even a couple weeks. They just sort of fall off my radar, when I stop thinking about them, but every Thursday at 6:00 I’m there. For an hour every week and it’s really hard, y’all! Like, talk about tough shit, it’s going better than a year ago, hell, better than three months ago. That feeling like one part of my brain is being pressed down on, like, part of my brain can’t be accessed, that feeling is pretty much gone now. It might come back; it probably will come back. But it’s gone right now! And I know it’s because I’m there once a week and bring every part of myself there, which I guess didn’t really click until yesterday. And part of me feels sad and cries a little bit when I get frustrated about work and coworkers being difficult, or upset when I think about another boy that I’m not really interested in anymore (even though it seemed so promising!), and how impatient I am with my mother. It’s not all easy, suddenly. It’s like if you were one of those kids (I was) who didn’t study for standardized tests, but would take them and get good results. In spite of not studying, like, holy shit I actually retained some information! Well, would you look at that. I did try after all, story of my life, etc. Thanks for reading world, deeply personal post is concluded.
"Because self-critics often come from unsupportive family backgrounds, they tend not to trust others and assume that those they care about will eventually try to hurt them. This creates a steady state of fear that causes problems in interpersonal relationships. For instance, research shows that highly self-critical people tend to be dissatisfied in their romantic relationships because they assume their partners are judging them as harshly as they judge themselves…This means that self-critics often undermine the closeness and supportiveness in relationships that they so desperately seek.
To make things even worse, people who judge themselves harshly are often their own worst enemy when it comes to choosing relationship partners in the first place….That is they [self-critics] want their self-views to be validated because it helps to provide a sense of stability in their lives….even people who make strong negative evaluations of themselves follow this pattern. They seek to interact with others who dislike them, so that their experiences will be more familiar and coherent.
Self-critics are often attracted to judgmental romantic partners who confirm their feelings of worthlessness. The certainty of rejection feels safer than not knowing what to expect next.”
Sort of amazed that I took the time to type this out, but, yes, it’s very true or at least it’s some kind of normalization, y’all. For whatever it’s worth.
Hey guys, hope your skin is clear and you get a text from someone you like real soon.
I luh you.
Actually staying within my budget. In fact, I’ve been under budget the last two months. This is progress, y’all! And I still haven’t activated the new credit card my bank sent me, what, so mature am I.