Me

Triggered For An Adventure

I don’t know what I have been feeling lately. Not necessarily sad or lost, but not necessarily completely thrilled either. As I have spent more time on self-reflection, I am forced to focus on the fact that it truly is my own mind that is playing tricks on me *cue Geto Boys*. I am constantly walking on a tight rope with a sea of eggshells waiting to catch me. I read book after book, lecture after lecture. I study endlessly. I throw myself into every single thing that I do, it’s all or nothing. This is where my brain likes to chime in and remind me of my years in therapy. I walk into my therapist’s office, I talk about things that I no longer remember in 2021 due to idk, trauma? We would open up “The Feeling Good Handbook” by David D. Burns and I would be told to open the page to the lists of cognitive distortions.

You know what’s the craziest thing of all? My parents didn’t get me professional help for the depression that I was suffering from for so many years. No, I was forced into therapy for finally putting myself first. My years in therapy never acknowledged the true pain that has wrangled its force around my veins. The year 2015 was my 2020.

It’s one of those things that keeps one standing in the middle of the doorway, waiting for someone to pull me in but no one ever does. And no one can except myself. I make decisions in my life by taking into account that I truly do not want to be on my death bed with untold truths. I refuse to repeat this life cycle simply because I wasn’t able to speak from my heart. So I take my grand leaps into the abyss and hope that my roots keep me from getting lost.

I come out from the abyss feeling more confident in myself yet still a little lost because more often than not, moving forward acts as almost a catalyst for loss. Loss is inevitable as you can’t take everything with you because it would simply slow you down. Keeping the dead weight doesn’t prevent you from completing your journey, but it does make things that much more twisted. You end up walking through a tornado rather than a dessert.

I sit here on my couch wondering if my cemented feet will ever move from the doorway. And I know they will. It isn’t a question of if, but a question of how long will it take until this doorway is a thing of the past? I’ve tried to ignore the past but alcohol is a depressant so it seemed redundant to continue that path. I’ve gone back into the past looking for closure and was met with divine interference leaving me in a warm silence.

Tears roll down my face as I stare at the cracks in the ceiling, just hoping that they’ll lead me somewhere. That I will have an “aha!” moment. I’ve done the thing that therapists and spiritual leaders tell you to do, forgive and accept. But what if that doesn’t work for everyone?

There isn’t a one fits all type of thing with healing or metamorphosing. I understand that this journey is about trying out various avenues of experiences. I think it’s just incredibly important to share that this shit really isn’t fucking easy, at all. But it can be, eventually. Perspective, you know?

So yes I might be riddled with anxiety, unstable emotions, and I may be haunted by my past, but at the same time, I am god damn thankful to have MY life. I love all of the mistakes that I have made and will continue to make. I just have to learn how to really embrace them. How interesting is it, to love something so much but be fearful of the embrace? Maybe that’s why I love roses and lemons so much. You have to trim the thorns to avoid blood from being spilled.

I have dreams, aspirations, and passions. I can list all that I am driven by in this life and I will still have something new to add to it every day. I get frustrated when I try to lay my soul out for others to explore. My layers are as bountiful as the atmosphere that I don’t think a million blog posts or a hundred books will ever be enough. But goddammit, it has to be enough.

It’s just more like, how do I tell a therapist that what truly stops me from killing myself is my fear and knowing that if I do so, that I’m just going to have to repeat the same lessons. So really, the only way out of this life is in. And damn, I am diving deep in, full throttle, nos, and everything. I just wish that suicidal ideation wasn’t looked at as something to be scared of. They’re ferocious monsters but if we give them a name and a voice, you realize that they’re just little children holding onto their pain.

The paradox of my existence is so blatantly obvious but I stumble when I try to lay out the words. All my puzzle pieces are available to put together, but perspective has convinced me that there is something missing.

All I know is, I’ll figure it out, I always do. I was raised by the strongest woman that you will ever meet. I am destined for greatness because I am already living it. I am it. And I get to look like a glass of wine as I walk this tightrope of life.

You know what, I truly am a whole ass prickly pear (I would say tuna as I know them as but the name doesn’t work as well in this context because I would have to give an explanation like I’m doing now). You can find me in the dessert that you walk, providing you life. Me when I die lol.

XoXo,

Lexx

P.S. I’ve honestly been a little sad because I haven’t taken my cameras out for some sunlight in so long. I just haven’t been feeling it. I haven’t done my makeup in a while nor have I had the energy to. I don’t think I’m falling into a depression, I’ve just been a little extra sleepy. I just checked, I only put makeup on once this month. How sad.

P.P.S. My mortality came into full view when I went to donate my platelets. I had a whole ass needle vibrating inside me and I couldn’t even feel it. It’s not that extreme but it makes me so sick. It happens rarely, but when it happens, it’s literally just the body being the body. I was only able to donate 1 unit so that sucked. Idk why but I’ve been extra sensitive to things like this as I’ve gotten older (me speaking like I’m hella old lmao).

P.P.P. S. My journal entries as of recently have consisted of me just asking the universe for some assistance in letting go of all the judgments I have over myself.

Anyways okay I’m done. I had to just let that all out. That was so therapeutic. Check out Dr. Carl Hart’s book “Drug Use for Grown-Ups: Chasing Liberty in the Land of Fear” !!!!!!! I don’t have a full review as I have just started it but he is someone who I look up to. He’s a Black doctor who is open about their personal use and has opened himself up to criticism but is doing it so fearlessly. I just really admire his pursuits and support his ideas. *Support your local bookstore!!!!!!!!*

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/534657/drug-use-for-grown-ups-by-dr-carl-l-hart/