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|steppingstones (profile) wrote, |
on 10-10-2018 at 11:44am
|Subject: that alarm has been going off for thirty minutes now
|It's still phenomenally hard to get myself to write. I think it links back to that day Tom yelled at me for having the journal here and made me delete it. I lost so much. Maybe I should see if any of what I saved is salvageable.
Maybe living in Schrodinger's is not the best. It is like unprocessed constant mourning. Like there's still mourning even if I maybe I do have it all. But that's a lot to unpack.
I feel great today. And yesterday. I got so much done yesterday. And even today I feel apart from the computer mostly and like my own person. I feel intact and boundaried and actively doing things on my list without much pushback.
I seem to get my shit together right before activities that are bound to blast it apart. But interestingly I no longer feel like I need to microdose like I did. Though it'd probably be a good thing.
I was thinking about my need for perfection yesterday. Particularly for keeping things in perfect condition. I am constantly reminded of that autism book where she wrote that she collected things and kept them in great condition in order to be able to play with them later. Like I never actually played with my toys. I just displayed them. I did play a little, but never anything that would compromise their condition. Was it so they would always be playable? Was I never really a child that felt safe enough to imagine and play? Are they safe for a future time that I might be able to play?
And it's so zoomed in, being focused on perfect quality. It looks at every facet as a focus instead of zooming out and seeing the beauty of the whole.
Which links back to beauty standards and how everyone is beautiful the way their body is. An object can be beautiful the way it is. A scratch can be a characteristic of my particular item. But that doesn't settle well.