Is it selfish?

People like to call you selfish when you aren’t doing what they want. It causes a conundrum. You need to think of yourself, to take care of yourself, but when does doing so cross the line into selfishness? When do you get to put yourself first? It’s a question I’ve been struggling with...

Don’t waste your life.

I went sailing this weekend. I’m not fortunate enough to have my own boat; however, my parents are; I went with them. Just them and me; it was nice, albeit a little odd and stressful. Nice because I don’t get to spend all that much time with them by myself, notwithstanding the fact that they live in the same town. I see my mom a couple of times a week – we work out together, and my dad at family get togethers – once a month usually – or if I have something that I need help fixing. But just sitting and chatting time, not so much. Odd because I struggled to be present. It occurred to me while doing so that I’ve spent a great deal of my life doing the same thing. I’ve tried so hard to stay calm and controlled, to not let my eating disorder take over, and to do everything right, that I’ve missed a lot of moments. I’ve been there but not there. Present but absent. I regret that...

wanting someone else to be in charge

Sometimes, days are hard. I thought that would change once I was an adult. I expected that at some point a magic switch would get thrown, my thinking would straighten out, my brain would work properly, I’d always know the right thing to do, and I’d feel good about myself. It was a shock to realize that wasn’t going to be the case. It was a shock to realize that your brain remains the same...

revenge fantasies

"My brain likes to go walkabout occasionally, without even a “by your leave”. I’ll be sitting or walking, even driving when suddenly, I’m back in the past, revisiting an event I didn’t enjoy the first time around. I hate flashbacks. I hate the emotions that come with them. I felt horrid during the initial encounter, whatever it was, and I don’t enjoy reliving everything from assaults, to bad days at work, to bullying. Any opportunity my brain has to make me relive misery, it takes. Occasionally, I’m in the author. I create memories of things that never happened, and wild imaginings of bad times yet to come. Visions of death, injury, violence and destruction abound. I feel ridiculous when I pull myself out of these daymares, as emotionally wrecked as if the event in question had occurred. Sometimes, however, I enjoy my brain’s creativity. I like it when I construct imaginary scenarios where I fight back, stand my ground, and put bullies and abusers in their place..."