December 7, 2019
Today is the first time I’ve felt this. I’ve been sleeping a lot. I’m sick. It’s my stomach. I just got up from my chair to get something to eat, and my eyes swept the dining room, which is now my bedroom. Living room, dining room/bedroom, kitchen. No walls. All open.
Inside of me felt like I was somewhere far away, looking at this life I’m living as if it weren’t real. Just a completely false construct. I’m really living this wonderful productive life on another plane somewhere. I’m aspiring to do great things. I’m doing great things. I’m not stuck in this mess I’m stuck in here. I’m not here.
I’m somewhere where my mind is free from all the dark. When I wake up, I get up and I live my life. I don’t wake up and start to tear before my eyes open. All of that is unreal. My real existence is in a world much better than this. And my place in that world is not as someone just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or just waiting to die. I’m living. Fully.
Hanging onto the whole idea makes me feel hopeful. Is it a glimpse of my future I’m seeing? Then I thought about someone coming to rescue me from this existence. I thought about this scenario, this phase I’m in, playing itself out, and moving out of this limbo back into wanting to live, in this world.
Then I thought about someone coming to save me. Like, ya, like a man. Then I chastised myself for wanting that, for not being a good enough feminist. For not being able to fix myself, myself. I know no one can rescue me, right? But then I thought about what Jeff said once.
“You are worth letting a man that cares about you to take care of you. Help each other take care of each other. That’s what a relationship is about. You deserve that, he deserves that.”
What does that mean? What does it look like to be taken care of? Does it mean I rely on a man to fix me? Or expect him to come pull me out of the dark, and all of a sudden, magically, everything will be different?