Skitt: imposter's healing journey

I've lost a lot of friends this year. I've heard that this happens while you're on your healing journey. You can't keep things that severed the old you in the way to who you're becoming. However, I suspect that I am the problem. How could all these people be the problem? Maybe they are right? Even if they aren't I'm the one who keeps attracting these people so it has to be me. What if I haven't been healing and I've fooled everyone so well that I began to believe the lie myself. I'm still really controlling, I feel like I'm constantly adding abandonment triggers, still very judgemental, I shrink away from accountability because it's uncomfortable, I've been lying at work more than I've ever lied at a job. I don't feel like I'm making progress. I know this isn't the worst version of myself. *Not that there is a better or worse version of myself. There is just surviving, learning, and healing. * It feels bad a lot of the time. It's overwhelming how awful it feels. It feels lonely. It feels like pain. There's so much hurt and anger. I hate the emptyness. Rather than sit and be with myself I dissociate. I can't control it, even if I wanted to sit with myself I didn't think I could. I dissociate so often I think I have gotten used to the feeling. I don't even notice it anymore. The melancholy is always right there on the periphery. Watching, waiting for its moment to strike and consume me. 

When I say melancholy I mean hormone induced depression. I hope that's what all this is. My whole life changed relatively fast and when the dust settled my hormones stood there in rubble with a bomb. I really want this depression and dissociation to all be hormones. I want the imposter syndrome and irritability to be hormones. I want this constant numb apathy that is my new baseline to be hormones. I want not to be able to feel emotionally connected or build intimacy to be hormones. But I'm worried that I'm actually just a terrible person. 

Sometimes I wonder if I'm a sociopath, beyond help, better off alone. I'm worried that I can't get better. My therapist is always telling me to sit in discomfort and I can not, no matter the reward, seem to do it. I want to get better, to be better, but apparently not at the risk of my own comfort. So I sit here less than a foot away from the woman who loves me. Meanwhile I've never been farther away. I'm off treading water in the middle of the dark ocean and the storm is bearing down on me. 

The shell of me is here faking a smile, trying to give her whatever I think she wants, and fawning instead of… I don't know… being authentic. I don't know what that looks like right now. I don't identify with this version of me. I don't like this person. They are mean, forgetful, scared, lost, lonely, on the offensive, arrogant, full of pain but unwilling to feel it, anxious, overwhelmed, sad, and quite a bit to handle. Despite being lonely and wanting to connect I keep this person away from everyone. I don't want people to meet me like this. So I seem standoffish despite really wanting to be on the inside. It looks nice. People look happy. I want that so bad. I want to feel like that. 

skit: me, myself, and I

My therapist says I need to love myself more. I personally think I love myself enough. While I was in session and we were having one of these conversations about me loving myself. I floated the idea that I might just not be my type. Which my therapist said is unfortunate because I'm going to spend the rest of my life with me. 

However, if I'm being honest, I am exactly my type. I've always had this idea. Well.. it's more of a theory that if there was a clone version of me or even me with the opposite parts that I would at least hook up with myself. I don't do one nightstands... or I didn't. But that's a separate story. Because I don't want one nightstands this would be an ongoing sexual relationship that I had with myself who I will now refer to as Aon. I will be Noa and the rest of this is going to be in the third person so it's less weird. At some point one of them will start to romance the others because they both have lover boi tendencies. Raised on a healthy amount of Disney they will do grand romantic gestures, making reality magical fantasy. They're competitive so they will constantly be trying to one-up each other while also appreciating all the effort the other one put in. I think it is completely find be competitive about loving your partner. Not in the sense of winning. But in the sense of you could not possibly love me more than I love you. Forgetting that love is endless and infinite. It will be romance, passion, wild, untameable, spontaneous, larger than life, unforgettable, unintelligible yet still undeniable. It will be little moments, notes, smirks, glances, rays of sunshine through the window you keep asking them to clean, doing nothing, peace, stillness, and tranquility. It will be the duality and the balance in that. That not the balance they bring to each other but the balance we find for themselves that makes the whole relationship grounded. Noa feels safe with Aon. Aon trust Noa. They both know that even though they are the same person they are also simultaneously not the same person. So they still have to say the words out loud because the words matter to both of them so much. If Aon and Noa could work past the initial and inherent fear and agree to work on all of the trauma that makes this terrifying it would be the love of their lives. Noa is Aon's soulmate and vice versa. 

I like this in theory. In practice is a completely separate story. I don't trust easy. Noa would be suspicious as fuck of Aon. Even if they were there when Aon was cloned or whatever. They would get in their own way because they're too smart for their own good. One of them are both of them would have the thought that without a neural link where they can experience the same things at the same time that they would diverge from each other rather quickly, exponentially actually. Experiences would make them different people. If they did have a neurolink where they were constantly experiencing their own experiences and the other person's experiences, I do not see how that is not overstimulating all the time. The capacity for existing is negligible at that point. I don't think you could get a capacity window to grow large enough to manage experiencing two separate existences at once. If you did it like as save point at the end of each day they would still diverge too much. It would jeopardize their own relationship because they don't understand the other person's experiences until later. Small misunderstandings in digital communications wouldn't be resolved until after the link. I also think the neurolink hinders healthy communication no matter which way you do it. So then the question is at what point is are Noa and Aon unique and distinguishable from one another that they are no longer dating themselves. I think outside opinions of that matter less than their understandings and expectations of each other. It matters even more to determining that point and what to do when they get there. 

The ease of the relationship is how much they know, understand, trust, and themselves. That only exist in isolation where they spend the entire time together all the time. However that doesn't last either. I think it exponentially diverges  quicker the more urban the setting is or the more entropy the setting has. Honestly urban comes back to entropy anyway cuz it's just more chances and opportunities for different things. So in reality could Noa date Aon? I don't think so. Not in a healthy way and not in a way that acknowledges both of their uniqueness. There is definitely more familiarity and comfort there, but I think it's assumed and unearned at a certain point.

But I do still think I am my type just me right now in this existence doubled. It would always have to be a current version of me dating the exact up to date carbon copy of me with all the same experiences. So yes I am my type but not in a multi-dimensional sense. In that respect, I think it might be worth loving myself less. 

Skitt: Color me Black Broken Blue

I'm exploring this new potential relationship and so far it's going really well. It really seems like this could be healthy and good for me and her. The biggest obstacle so far is me. I am not use to being the problem. Or being the one that needs to be fixed/healed/get their shit together. I'm not saying I've been perfect in my past relationships. We all know that's not true. But I'm not use to being the main problem, the only problem, and the source of the problem. I'm honestly so embarrassed and ashamed. 

The issue is I'm dissociating a lot and we (new person and I). We (therapist, her, and I) think it is I have lost the ability to compartmentalize and striking myself at work and arrive by family is causing me emotional distress. She cares for me, shows up, is present, communicates so, and tries her best (which is beyond whatever is needed, called for, wanted, or even dreamed possible). I thought I felt really safe and protected in this new situation. Intellectually and physically I definitely do. However, my feelings are a lot harder to get a read on. Along with really liking her and all the feelings that come with new relationships and attractions. I'm also uncomfortable about being vulnerable, taking care of, and all this new stuff I've never had before. I am always feeling a lot whenever I'm around her. It's overwhelming to be honest. So I'm not feeling everything. It's a lot to process.

My therapist thinks that I'm feeling a lot because I'm not used to being taken care of, being wanted but not needed, being safe, and not having to earn love. All of that is true. I can't even deny it. I've known all of that is true for awhile. I've even said the words out loud but it's never been real until now. Now I'm physically living the difference. And OH MY!!! What a difference it is! It's so different but I really like it. It's so different that I don't want anything else anymore. I don't want to be anyone else other than the person I am with her. I can't fit back into the boxes I would put myself for others so that they would love me. 

It does make me wonder why I couldn't just have this all along. It makes me question myself. Ask myself what was I doing wrong. The answer is nothing. I needed to work on my self-worth, I still do but that doesn't make people love you. That would make me love me and know my value. Which helps me not tolerate people loving me incorrectly. It would have prevented some of the trauma but not all. I haven't always loved correctly. I know that. It is something that I have to learn. But, I've always been deserving of being loved and cared for. Everyone is deserving. Not getting that for so long makes me feel like I've missed out. I feel inadequate and incompetent. Like everyone else is in on the joke but not me and I'm the punchline. It hurts to know what I've been missing. I've always known I've been missing it but I didn't know what it was like so I couldn't really be hurt by it, be sad about it, or even begin understand what it feels like. 

I really want to know. Now that I have felt a little bit I do really want to know. I'm just hoping that it isn't too late to learn. That I'm capable of learning. That I can physically adjust. Because sometimes with the body you just miss your window. If you don't do it then you'll never get it. Never is a really long time. 

Skitt: update 5-4-25

Keys and I broke up in 2024 in November. It was a toxic abusive relationship and I am worse off for it. But it's been over for a while by the way.

Skittles: Meet Isoldel

I'm in trouble. I knew I should have run. Sometimes my body, my soul senses danger before my brain can fully process it. I was hesitant, scared of seeing my ex, and scared of the feeling. But ever since our first date, I knew I would just be fighting the inevitable. It's electric, like lightning. It's wild, like a forest fire. It's an all-consuming black hole that no part of me can break free from, no matter how hard I fight it. God, why? This is the last thing I need.

I haven't written in years, but this is so bad, so intense, that I need an outlet. Music, dancing, singing, and working out aren't cutting it. I'm lost in my head, engulfed in my thoughts, replaying daydreams over and over. The longing they represent is almost enough to manifest my desires, to bring them to life. An imagination allowed to run free with thirty years of consuming media and life experience still only creates probable scenarios. Reality, however limiting, is still a magical fantasy whenever she's involved. Picturesque moments, so simple but so full of joy and love—these, and actual moments shared, are all that play in my head at any given time.

I don't know exactly when it became an obsession, but here we are now. She's all I think about. From the moment I wake up to when I go to sleep. Even while I dream, she is ever-present in my mind. All this thinking is for naught. Alas, the moment I am in her presence, my mind goes blank. All the poetry, words more beautiful than the sunset, refuse to come out, for fear that they would pale in comparison next to her. Exciting conversations meant to stimulate the mind are nowhere to be found, for fear of boring someone whose knowledge is so varied and vast. I feel so frail and anxious around her; I don't know how I don't disintegrate into dust at a mere glance. Oh, and don't let her touch me—I'd melt. I'm putty in her hands, a puppet with her pulling the strings, a mere plaything for her amusement. As sad as that sounds, it is actually such a wonderful existence, simply to know her, rather than to be of use to her.

In her arms, I can't speak, I forget to breathe, yet I have never felt safer, and I want to stay forever. Eternity wouldn't be long enough. To be seen by her is as addicting as it is terrifying. I love it, I crave it, I spurn it, I hate it. The intensity of it all is too much, too fast for me; I am drowning myself in my own unrequited feelings. But I can't stop. The feeling is more than I can bear. I've developed quite an affliction. I've become a fiend.

Here, in what should be the quiet meditation of the night, I find myself restlessly putting pen to paper, trying, albeit forlornly, to get this feeling out, to find some small amount of respite. It comes quicker than I can write, in flashes every time I close my eyes. Just to blink is to see her, is to be back in a moment with her—a beautiful, torturous prison of my own making. A dream? A nightmare? Maybe something in-between? No, it is different, its own thing, an entirely different entity of its own design. Torture all the same, though. It physically hurts to feel so strongly about her. I am constantly fighting back tears, not because I am heartbroken (though I shudder to even try to grasp what that would be like if I feel like this after a month), but because I forget to breathe, and that makes my chest hurt. Because my head can't contain nor process the joy from the constant bombardment of my dreams. My heart beats so loudly, demanding to be heard, that the muscle overexerts itself, causing pain. No human was made to feel this deeply. I don't know much, but this I do know: there are fewer leagues in the ocean deep than there are limits to the profundity of that which I care for her.