Bracing for Impact

The weekend was a wash. My cold from last week perfectly segued into the monthly sufferings common to most women. So, a weekend spent sitting on my rear, surfing reddit, watching tv, stuffing my face, reading web serials, the works. Also, just thinking.

I spend so much time in my head. I can spend hours just away in myself, no human contact, enriching and developing the story I’ve been building for years. A sci-fi story, with various influences. My maladaptive daydream, if I’m being honest. It’s an escape. I often do it to avoid the pervasive feeling that I need to be doing something else. I always feel this, it’s sort of a background miasma. It’s me vs. the constant need for perfection and accomplishment. Only, I don’t really want to be productive. I want to waste time. I want to do nothing.

Motivation to do anything but sit and pretend I’m someone else has been seriously lacking for the last few years. From my perspective it’s a lot of things. Constant employment, from childhood. The grinding fear of homelessness and not having enough. The damage to my psyche from my tender, loving stepmother and my caring father. For years, being emotionally braced in the crash position, waiting for impact. Only to find there was no impact, because I made it out of poverty after more than a decade. I married. Now there is no pressing disaster on the horizon, but I’m still waiting for collision.

It’s tiring. The constant sense of doom that pervades me is boring. Of being a powerless victim waiting for something bad to happen. Feelings of powerlessness and lack of control, of pretty much anything. Things I blame on being a woman. If I wasn’t a woman, why, I’d be confident and self-assured and able to have the life I wanted. Bunch of horsesh1t, the grass is always greener on the other side.

When can I wake up, and realize that one life is all I have? I am still young. I can do the things that I want. I can let people in, even if I can’t be the person they want me to be. I don’t have to be ultra-nice to compensate for my appearance. I can push back when people try to take advantage of me. I don’t have to cling to people who give me the time of day. I can write and do the things that I want to do, even if my anxiety punches me in the face with thoughts that I shouldn’t write or draw.

Stop bracing for impact. Stand up. Look around. Live. Enjoy things again.

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