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I chose you to write upon over my diary. Sometimes, it's so hard to write to absolutely nothing yet sometimes it's preferred. Also, I'm running low on the pages.
inside my head, so much of the nothing spinning. hubris and worry over my trajectories and fates while my cat seems bored.
moving to macon. that was a hoot.
to not even enter the city of macon yet be
offered an entirely free year's rent.
it was an offer I won't refuse.
it's a weird thought to be in the outskirts of a downtrodden town. it would be the difference in living in downtown Wilmington vs. snow's cut. Without the "free for a year" part, it would not even be a consideration. But then I think, if I'm going to live there, why not lie about my address and perch in Wilmington but I wasn't really ready for Wilmington without the new career was I arrogant moi?
I just read my second travis McGee book in a week. I've got to sparse them out. reading one after the other, and I'm out of Cadfael mysteries. I almost watched a rewatch last night. Now I guess I can understand why gulas VCR-ed and rewatched the Simpsons.
all of the people I'm vulnerable with are guys
and I keep wondering if that's even more control
or the programming from childhood.
my sister scares me still. I feel like a four-year old when I'm with her.
it's like a part of me was on full display - the defeated, dejected, hurt little girl. And my sister played her role of taking care of my resentfully completely.
and it's humbling for sure. my work in trauma was to picture myself in the sunlight and as big as her in my mind. The thought of my mother passing and leaving just her girls. It gives me pause and I'm not guaranteed
five
minutes.
if life were short and precious, I think I would be with all my friends and mom at a gathering. but I'm exiled - self-exiled as the shrooms told me in a far far away land. and I exile myself from the love of my mother. they call it attachment issues in psychology.
and asking for help. that will be hard.
but the thing I'm getting used to now is surrender.
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