The Garden of Thorns is in Bloom

Melbourne

I am still obsessed by this idea of forward momentum. I got 2017 on my back like get the fuck away from me and I can’t tell if anything I know is real. I know that I am disappointing myself everyday. Bleak. My darling ex bf (the junkie) used to say that regret in small doses is healthy. It keeps us from making the same mistakes. Then why you always using BABE? Who am I to pick up the first stone? We are all in recovery from the constant trauma that is living. The catholic in me is flaring up and all I have in my head is images of resurrection and redemption and wiping slates and if I could just wake up alone in my own bed with breath in my lungs then maybe I would feel hope instead of this endless fucking anxiety. I wonder if my chronic benzo use has rewired my brain forever. I know I’m back to inward self-reflection but true confession it’s mainly because I’m too afraid to write.

My idea of regret is a little bit more cut and dry. Mainly don’t do anything you can’t live down. My list is currently on three and I think they will come to the grave with me. I’ve made peace. With the regrets. Do not send help. I am not penning a suicide note. No one checks in on me here regularly enough to get there on time anyway. That was a passive aggressive swipe joke. I don’t give a fuck. And if you know me, you know that to be true.

I’m hungover. This is problem the first. When I was so mentally fragile I would purposefully avoid hard liquor and escapism because I knew it would destroy me. Now I have regained something of myself I’m testing the waters. Don’t drown little heroine!

I wonder if people believe in those one-year plan, five-year plan lists… I have planning PTSD, everything I have ever planned for has fallen apart at the seams. Wears you down when your hopes and aspirations are derailed due to circumstance. Please don’t talk to me about ‘working harder’. It doesn’t actually work like that and to think so is privileged, you fuck. You know if you were born under different circumstances your life could be a lot less fucking cruisy. Uh huh, so why don’t you tell the people starving or oppressed to work harder towards their goals. Go the fuck away from the things you do not understand. Defensive. Good behavior SJ.

I just looked at the date. We are two weeks into the New Year (redundant construct of time that dictates nothing on a larger scale to actuate change within yourself or your situation). Go away, I need it. I need it to feel new and different or I will break. Pro tip- always know the limitations of your breaking point. Two weeks is all it takes to form a new habit. That’s fine. I can wake up tomorrow and make this my new habit. I did while I was away. You have no idea how hard content is to source. Harder than safe drinking water in the third world. Just kidding! I once took a bath in bottled water when they cut the main supply. God, I’m awful.

You, dear readership, shall be my new year’s resolution. I’m going to give you my word. Gross. I hate giving my word. Promises are serious to me. That’s why I never make them. Tricky. Can’t break up if we’re not together. You must prise that boyfriend title out of my dead cold heart, my love. Okay, so once a week. You will have a piece. A proper piece. Not this thinking through my process and living shit. It will most likely be about that. But it will be well articulated. Just cause I have the ability to speak doesn’t mean I should always be talking. That’s good. That is one step forward. Thanks guyZ. Still cheaper than therapy!

xx SJ

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