I am also, without a doubt, having a “moment”.
It’s been long over due. I am learning that its bad to hold in feelings and pretend to either a) be happy when you’re not b) act indifferent when you’re not, and c) act like a cold, stone statue, when you most certainly are not.
I don’t know why I do this; as a uterus owner, it should come naturally for me to be in touch with my emotions and sensitivities and be expressive about them. But I’m not. I almost think I’d be more comfortable ripping ass in front of a hot date than talk about my feeling with someone I know and am comfortable with.
So, I’ll blog it out. Or, at least attempt to. The more I try to get it out, the more constipated my brain becomes. It is, literally, like my mental processes produce nothing but static when confronted with the harsh reality of “how I feel about things and such”.
I can easily say I’m beyond tired. That’s a given. I can easily say that I’m nervous. That’s expected. I can easily say I’m lost. That’s cliche. But I can’t seem to really reach down and do what I need to do, which is yank out my fucking guts and smear them all over this screen and relieve the pressure on my insides.
Hey, that’s disturbing!
It’ll come out eventually; it has to whether I want it to or not. I just hope I don’t blow a load in someone’s eye.