Stupid Piece of Shit
I feel so good about being poly it's almost as if I spent 27 years believing that it didn't exist, and now all my ideas of a relationship have been shattered and I'm allowed to have love in my life. I can't explain the feeling, unless you are and you get it. It's the same way I feel about being Ace. People are great at listening but it never quite feels as understanding like when I talk to someone else who is ace. It's just this sigh of release. When I think about monogamy, I don't get it. I wouldn't expect someone monogamous to understand the solidifying feeling of being involved with multiple people, while everyone involved is totally cool with everyone else. It's something that I have craved for so long and now that I have found myself in it I start to fear maybe I'm missing something. Where's the shit?
I think often that maybe I am incapable of more. Maybe I like being poly because it gives me a safe distance from diving too deep. When I think of my toxic ex and our relationship I try to imagine what it would have been like if he was poly... and wanted to be with me... the latter not being part of the equation, I think it could have worked. Why do I bring up my ex in this scenario? Because that's the last time I've felt an intense passion for someone, I would maybe even say love, but I was horribly unstable throughout that entire relationship... so who the fuck knows. That doesn't mean I don't feel passion for my partners now, or love, or support, or all the things a healthy relationship is built on. It's just different. So I find myself questioning perhaps I'm holding back because I'm afraid, what happens when I open up my heart fully and they get pulled away from me for circumstances I cannot control.
Each of my partners give me many things that make me feel very stable. A feeling I'm not familiar with. But then my anxiety brain starts going into overdrive and analyzing what the future of everything holds. My existence is fragile.
Anxiety: Hey, stupid piece of shit, it's only working now because I'm waiting for you to dive deep so I can show myself and they'll run away in fear, no one wants to put up with me, no one will put up with you because of me. It's all just a glass floor with small cracks. I'll smash through when you least expect it.
I want to be able to bite back, but I can't. My therapy session was rough today because it always goes back to my childhood. My therapist and I realized there's a very thick wall that I'm avoiding. Even now as I write this I pause because I'm holding back tears from falling. I should help you get a picture, I'm just sitting alone in my apartment drinking coffee and typing this, there is no reason I can't just stop and cry, but I can't do it. There's a wall. It's thick but see-through, I can see people on the other side, walking by, ignoring me as I try to get their attention. They're all pretending I don't exist. I don't exist.
Anxiety: You thought you existed, stupid piece of shit, that's hilarious. Pathetic.
I can't breathe.
Is this blog post just me trying to call out for help to a bunch of viewers behind a wall who won't even open the link if I post is anywhere? Scroll, scroll, scroll. I tried to delete facebook, because it's the only way I have control to delete myself. I wanted to delete myself as a way to prove my existence doesn't matter to anyone and got an outpour of people reaching out to me. Then I wanted to vomit. I'm creating this false narrative in my head and forcing people to care about me by victimizing my mental health, it's sickening, I'm sickening.
Anxiety: I'm glad my nickname for you is an accurate description of you, stupid piece of shit.
My therapist suggested that when I get like this to sit and breathe. I've done it. He also suggested I find a way to avoid my phone and do something I enjoy. I haven't found anything I enjoy in a long time. Why am I even reaching? When I message anyone and don't hear back I feel like I've probably imposed, my message is reaching them at a time that's inconvenient and it's made to be ignored. I have friends I know who will answer their phone when I call, or at least get back to me as soon as possible, but I'm not some fucking high alert case, I'm making it all up in my head. My head makes up these stories. A couple of weeks ago I was afraid of having a psychotic break, what would that entail, have I had it already?
"You're wonderful", "You're gorgeous", "You're brilliant", all too familiar with my ears, while overstimulating my brain to the point I don't know how to accept it so I just smile, or hide my head. I've found myself in relationships with a few people who think so very highly of me, and I'm just waiting for them to realize I've tricked them. My anxiety makes me a monster. And then sitting here expecting that is... not fair to anyone. And so it has led me to try and delete. Why the fuck did I let myself into someone's life when I know I'll end up just another story in their book of people they once knew. Depressing. I guess. Maybe it's not my anxiety talking, but my depression.
Depression: Bitch please, if I were talking you'd know.
I like to think of depression as a stereotypical gay man. I'm a prejudice asshole.
Depression: I have so many more vile words to describe you, you stupid little slut.
Alright, well that was... a bit much.
I don't know, I guess. I guess I just keep landing in places where I seem like I know what's going on, but then when I look at it as a third party I realize it's all a pile of garbage. I feel stable in the arms of a lover, and then my existence fades when I go back into my life. What am I saying... what am I saying?
It all goes back to that wall. I'm stuck here. And my therapist is moving to Mexico in three weeks so... stable Hools has been fun... but...
Depression: You're fucked.