Reconciling Saints

That one day someone will say, "You know, me too."

Sometimes I feel like I'm here... at your feet.

I know I'm stronger and I know I value myself more, but I can't always feel like the great one that I am.

Sometimes all I want to do is see you smile... back track where the conversation veered off and caused a big huff of silence that now sits loudly in the room.

I have issues with this because my fighting me says that this is not the way it should be. I should not have to kowtow to you. The fighter is mostly right... but in everything one needs to learn humility... as well as the possibility that one may be wrong.

Sometimes I feel like I am groveling at your feet and the fighter in me says, "Fuck this! I never need this!" Times like that, I remember that I can survive alone out of stubbornness, and it sorter scares me.

Sometimes I feel like we're both naked children, lying on the floor hoping that one picks the other up. Times like that... I need to remember that that is most likely the truth.

This has been true in many relationships and, it seems, will always be true in all relationships. I just have to remember that the fighter can blow things out of proportion and that, at all times, no one is doing any groveling whatsoever. We're both just trying to be heard... even in the silence.

So I reread this post here and found myself pondering the truthfulness of it and how it embodied everything I had done/ that happened to get me here.

This part especially:

"I trust Da5id, as I've said before, to kill me and I him. He could break my heart in a second... but if he did, that in itself would be a reason why this no longer worked. I in return would do the same to him. The only way to do that, however, would be if one of us stopped being that person that we both fought so hard to be. The dynamic would change and either he'd leave or I'd leave, depending on the situation/circumstance."

Well, we changed and I was no longer what he could handle and he was no longer the guy who knew me nor understood me.

That is why I knew it was over. That was why I did what I thought was right by me.

I have a journal at the side of my bed that I call The Nightmare Book. I'm also trying to get my other website to mirror it a bit, but with more copy and idea editing, but not for content. The journal is everything I feel, think, see thrown up on paper so I'd like to make it a little more cohesive.

The purpose for it is for me to write out all the stuff I think about that's negative, all the things I'm dealing with when it comes to battling the manic, the depression and the cognitive distortion. This way, it has a release and the concept is that I'll put it in the book and hopefully not let it out into the world. It's also supposed to be a tool for me to go back to situations to see where things went wrong, happened and/ or what triggered it.

I'm still having a hard time actually doing this... and never have I needed it more than this week. It's usually something I do in my spare time, like on the bus or on my break or something. This week I find that I need it near me at all times due to the "assignment" that my therapist has given me. I'm not supposed to physically or verbally react to situations but instead let the reaction happen in me, notice the feeling's wash through me, and try to figure out what made me mad/ if it's valid/ what the trigger is/ how to get past it.

It's only sort of working. 

It's really hard for me to do this as the emotions are so intense and it all feels so real, perceived or otherwise. 

I'm trying. I'm fucking up. I'm learning. I'm dusting myself off and trying again. 

In doing so I'm losing people, but I'm gaining understanding of myself and what I need. I'm also learning how to function a little more normally... Well, at least learning not to see monsters everywhere.