(no subject)

Good gods, yes... starandrea is apparently talking for me today:

http://www.livejournal.com/users/starandrea/51452.html

(no subject)

Good gods, yes... starandrea is apparently talking for me today:

http://www.livejournal.com/users/starandrea/51452.html

(no subject)

The most damaging thing I learned while growing up was this:

"Don't talk about things that are very important to you, especially if the topic is a difficult one. It'll be twisted around as your fault, changed to be about the other person and not you, or twisted so that you're not sure if it really happened the way you remember. The more important the subject, the stronger the emotional attachment, the worse the reaction. Keep quiet. It's safer."

Those who have been reading me a while may notice something really interesting about this. I need to talk about things. _Especially_ when they are difficult for me. Especially with people I'm close to. And... my natural state is to be trusting, not wary. Yes, it's safer to not be as trusting as I was as a child. But... being taught by actions to go in the complete opposite direction isn't helpful, and makes it just as difficult to find a good balance point.

It's also not helpful to have been taught to doubt one's perceptions, because how, then, does one know who to trust? At least I've pretty much managed to get beyond that - I trust my perceptions now, mostly. (I don't think I _want_ to trust them completely - because then I might start buying into the belief that only my perceptions are accurate, no one else's. And that's just bad...)

To have been taught something so completely against who I am, regardless of the fact that it was not an intentional lesson, has been something I've been struggling to work through ever since. I _know_ it ties into my my reduced, but still existing, difficulty with forcing myself to talk about things when I am afraid of the reaction. I suspect it ties into my expectation for people to whom I have strong emotional ties to leave and/or hurt me. Leaving me, BTW, _is_ hurting me, for people I am close to - possibly the worst anyone can hurt me and still have me wanting them in my life. Even if there are good reasons. Reasons will help, though, if I can understand and agree with them.

Part of this is, almost certainly, the fact that I was a _very_ sensitive, open child.

And I continue to fight my demons...

(no subject)

The most damaging thing I learned while growing up was this:

"Don't talk about things that are very important to you, especially if the topic is a difficult one. It'll be twisted around as your fault, changed to be about the other person and not you, or twisted so that you're not sure if it really happened the way you remember. The more important the subject, the stronger the emotional attachment, the worse the reaction. Keep quiet. It's safer."

Those who have been reading me a while may notice something really interesting about this. I need to talk about things. _Especially_ when they are difficult for me. Especially with people I'm close to. And... my natural state is to be trusting, not wary. Yes, it's safer to not be as trusting as I was as a child. But... being taught by actions to go in the complete opposite direction isn't helpful, and makes it just as difficult to find a good balance point.

It's also not helpful to have been taught to doubt one's perceptions, because how, then, does one know who to trust? At least I've pretty much managed to get beyond that - I trust my perceptions now, mostly. (I don't think I _want_ to trust them completely - because then I might start buying into the belief that only my perceptions are accurate, no one else's. And that's just bad...)

To have been taught something so completely against who I am, regardless of the fact that it was not an intentional lesson, has been something I've been struggling to work through ever since. I _know_ it ties into my my reduced, but still existing, difficulty with forcing myself to talk about things when I am afraid of the reaction. I suspect it ties into my expectation for people to whom I have strong emotional ties to leave and/or hurt me. Leaving me, BTW, _is_ hurting me, for people I am close to - possibly the worst anyone can hurt me and still have me wanting them in my life. Even if there are good reasons. Reasons will help, though, if I can understand and agree with them.

Part of this is, almost certainly, the fact that I was a _very_ sensitive, open child.

And I continue to fight my demons...

(no subject)

Hee!

"It must be summer.

We have our lawn ornament back!'

Lawn ornament being me, having lunch outside on the lawn. :)

(I also apparently look like a holistic gypsy today. *tickled*)


Oh! Another quote for today!

"I need to get enough sleep, or I walk into walls."

me - "I do that anyway!"

(no subject)

Hee!

"It must be summer.

We have our lawn ornament back!'

Lawn ornament being me, having lunch outside on the lawn. :)

(I also apparently look like a holistic gypsy today. *tickled*)


Oh! Another quote for today!

"I need to get enough sleep, or I walk into walls."

me - "I do that anyway!"

(no subject)

So, ladytabitha had been quoting a poem in her subject lines, and...

I love this poem. I've never seen it before, but I love it. Brings tears to my eyes, even. Thus, I'm sharing.

As linked in her post, it's "After a While", by Veronica A. Shoffstall.

(no subject)

So, ladytabitha had been quoting a poem in her subject lines, and...

I love this poem. I've never seen it before, but I love it. Brings tears to my eyes, even. Thus, I'm sharing.

As linked in her post, it's "After a While", by Veronica A. Shoffstall.

(no subject)

I post too much today. And yesterday. Hell, I just post too much. But. My brain won't let me be useful if I don't.

Last night, I remembered.

When I was much younger, I used to sing, constantly. I don't know if there were words or not, because the words never mattered. Only the song did. It got my emotions out better than words ever could. I never did this when anyone else was around, and usually when I was outdoors. I remember singing for the creek in my backyard, because it was singing. And I thought it wanted me to sing with it. I know I sang with trees, too...

I think there were words, then, because I don't think I had yet accepted that it was ok to sing without them. I still thought that vocal music without words wasn't... as good. Or something. But I don't think the words ever mattered.

I could never remember the tune. I have no idea if anyone else might like it, since I never did it with others around.

But, last night, for the first time in probably 15 years or more, I sang. No words, because words distracted me. No other music than my voice. I just... sang. I sorta wish I'd recorded it. But only sorta - it doesn't feel... like something that should be trapped, or that can be repeated the same way every time. It feels fluid. Changing.

I mean, I've sung with no words before, fairly recently. But not without any other music; not for a very long time. And even the lack of words singing was always very quiet - I don't think anyone else could hear it.

It felt... right. Vuluerable. Scary. But very, very right. I don't know when, or if, I'll be ok with letting other people hear me. This feels like it comes from deeper inside me than any other method I have of expressing myself. But. I have it back. When I'm alone, I have it back.

I'm not sure what triggered it; possibly a combination of the character I played this weekend, and the book I'm currently reading. Something did.

I have my music back. I didn't even know it was missing...

(no subject)

I post too much today. And yesterday. Hell, I just post too much. But. My brain won't let me be useful if I don't.

Last night, I remembered.

When I was much younger, I used to sing, constantly. I don't know if there were words or not, because the words never mattered. Only the song did. It got my emotions out better than words ever could. I never did this when anyone else was around, and usually when I was outdoors. I remember singing for the creek in my backyard, because it was singing. And I thought it wanted me to sing with it. I know I sang with trees, too...

I think there were words, then, because I don't think I had yet accepted that it was ok to sing without them. I still thought that vocal music without words wasn't... as good. Or something. But I don't think the words ever mattered.

I could never remember the tune. I have no idea if anyone else might like it, since I never did it with others around.

But, last night, for the first time in probably 15 years or more, I sang. No words, because words distracted me. No other music than my voice. I just... sang. I sorta wish I'd recorded it. But only sorta - it doesn't feel... like something that should be trapped, or that can be repeated the same way every time. It feels fluid. Changing.

I mean, I've sung with no words before, fairly recently. But not without any other music; not for a very long time. And even the lack of words singing was always very quiet - I don't think anyone else could hear it.

It felt... right. Vuluerable. Scary. But very, very right. I don't know when, or if, I'll be ok with letting other people hear me. This feels like it comes from deeper inside me than any other method I have of expressing myself. But. I have it back. When I'm alone, I have it back.

I'm not sure what triggered it; possibly a combination of the character I played this weekend, and the book I'm currently reading. Something did.

I have my music back. I didn't even know it was missing...

(no subject)

I want a wave to ride. It's been too long since I was at the ocean in a place warm enough to dive into the waves and through. I don't like cold water, because I can't move very well when I'm cold, which pretty much removes all ocean waters in New England.

I want to fly, under my own power. Eventually, I should learn to hang glide. Closest thing to having my own wings, I suspect. For some reason, today, I feel like I do have wings attached to me. It's the strangest feeling, because I can even feel them unfurl, and fold them back up again. It's a good thing they aren't really there, though, because they are much too big for my cube!

I go to play in the dirt, after work. This pleases me. I'm glad the skirt I decided to wear today was cotton, though, 'cause that's easily washed. Mmm. Dirt and plants.

(no subject)

I want a wave to ride. It's been too long since I was at the ocean in a place warm enough to dive into the waves and through. I don't like cold water, because I can't move very well when I'm cold, which pretty much removes all ocean waters in New England.

I want to fly, under my own power. Eventually, I should learn to hang glide. Closest thing to having my own wings, I suspect. For some reason, today, I feel like I do have wings attached to me. It's the strangest feeling, because I can even feel them unfurl, and fold them back up again. It's a good thing they aren't really there, though, because they are much too big for my cube!

I go to play in the dirt, after work. This pleases me. I'm glad the skirt I decided to wear today was cotton, though, 'cause that's easily washed. Mmm. Dirt and plants.