Going easy on myself as I get back into writing…
I never really talked about this before because it felt taboo.
My writing still feels inorganic. Feels forced.
I feel as if I have all these half stories, and passions inside but I can’t quite get them on paper. Or on type.
So I’m going to treat this as a non-fictional factual bullet journal for now.
I have all these tipping ideas ready to write — none are powerful enough and resonating enough for me to scribe.
// What’s Taboo?
I am going to make a concious effort to mental exercise. I am slowly losing grips on stability up there sometimes.
I’m not going to label it.
The words do not feel formable.
It’s just debilitating self-crushing thoughts. They are like whispers. They are like alters.
They tell my ego You are not good enough.Who are you.What about that stupid embarassing shit we said today.He will not marry you.You will never amount to anything.Aren’t you first generation X?.Why are you letting your predecessors down?This is as far as you’re going.What are we doing?
When I’ve opened up my vulnerability in the past — peers find it hard to believe.
You’re so confident though — but like?
You radiate strength — huh?
No way are you just pulling my leg? Are you fishing for a compliment?
This piece does not present a solution. Just that I am starting my thesis and hopefully a road to eternal recovery.
→ I’m starting with listening to podcasts. Spotify Premium has some awesome ones on concious meditation. I’m not able to blank out my mind completely so I find it comforting to listen to music or someone speaking.
→ Slowing down on the hobby train wagon. I tend to overpack hobbies because I’m a dreamer and I’m always looking for the next club to join or skill to learn.
Slowing down on overbooking.
→ Not feeling guilty to just come home and be alone. Just pure respite from the outside world. Just fuck around on the internet or engorge garbage Netflix.
→ Opening up about mental health.
Here’s to more. Glass tink.