effortlesselaboration

[effortlesselaboration]

yes, my diamond

i had a moment today with my brother where he spoke to me in an assertive way, not out of any anger (maybe a little?), just to correct the way i was acting and to teach me something.

i don’t do well with assertion/anger from my siblings.

it doesn’t happen often, like at all, and it’s never even loud, but those rare moments have a incredulous impact on me that usually take me days to get over. i tend to temporarily regress into a version of myself that isn’t healed and incites a night of intense self loathing and puffy eyes in the morning.

you see, i think i’m less than them.

in terms of years, then yes, that’s a fact, and can quite literally never change, but there were so many privileges granted to me i never even knew i had, simply because i was born last. years of not-so-great events and the natural progression of getting older have revealed to me just how fortunate i am. even with all of us facing one bad situation after another; i, in comparison, have it better than them. which is supposed to be a good thing right? look at much i’m being cared for, look at my youth being preserved, look how i’m being provided for?

look at how much they’ve given up that i didn’t have to. look at how much they’ve grown. look at how much more seriously they take life than me. look at the early 20’s passing them by, stolen by the parental, bread-winning roles they had to take- thanks to the premature checking out of the original pair we got.

when my mother speaks to me in such a way, it’s like a dull knife stabbing a and numb wound, because she doesn’t understand me as an entity outside of being her daughter, being at a lower level than her because: me, kid - her, parent

but my siblings see me for who i am, and truly comprehend all the parts that make me a complete, complex, growing, changing human being. they get me. the career path i’ve chosen, the way i like my food, what to gift me for a holiday, their perception of me is an accurate and genuine one.

that makes it so when they’re not happy with said perception, it really fucks me up.

im sure they have no intention on having such a grand affect on me. it’s not their fault, i’ve set them on this pedestal, where i’m not worthy to reach, as i haven’t worked/sacrificed enough in my life, not in the way that they have, at least.

it’s come to the point where, i, in their moments of abundance, will purposefully make or see less of myself because it’s truly the way that my brain has come to view my relationship to them. like somehow, the idea of them receiving reparations while i stay at this level of undeserving is a valid solution to the trauma they’ve experienced in their lives.

it’s not something that comes up often, so i tend to shove it aside until the events of life bring up my inferiority complex again, but it has slowly (very slowly) been a pattern of thoughts that show up more than they used to.

i’ve yet to bring this up to them. but have thought about it, a lot, often finding myself in this the chicken vs the egg situation:

i feel inferior to you because you’ve had to take care of me all of our lives but these feelings are some form of s*** h*** so i had to let you know.

but once i tell you, you’ll end up comforting me and ensuring me that i’m not a burden, still talking care of me making me angry at myself all over again.

do you see where i get stuck here?

[effortlesselaboration]

things i don’t enjoy anymore

doing my makeup

- somewhere in between having no energy for any type of make up (from a full face to even just mascara and lipgloss) and not simply wanting to, for a long period of time. i one day looked around and realized that makeup hadn’t been a part of my life for a while and that whoever i was/am becoming needed the space of my attention and the world of lip liner and highlight and glitter was shoved out of my priorities, very gradually. its not something i’m upset with, but its refreshing to see that its something i no longer rely on to go out in public or feel beautiful. i don’t even use lip gloss anymore, its *that* far removed from my current being.

dressing up

- depression doesn’t really require a stellar wardrobe. but the process and change that depression has made me go through, has resulted in an evolved me that hates all the clothes i own, because it doesn’t fit who i am anymore. i’m currently re-wiring my entire closet, but i’m finding out that the purchase is more entertaining than the arrival and owning of these new items. maybe that will change when i have more, and its a full style, bc these pieces do feel a lot more me than my current clothes. i also don’t leave the house much, not for any recreational reasons, which definitely plays a part in my lack of enjoyment of a cute outfit. which is very much a 180 of the girl i used to be.

food

- i find myself thinking about vegetarianism a lot recently. there used to be something so rewarding about a meal, so much excitement i would have before buying food and eating it. there is a very real repulsive feeling i have during the time i’m eating. food doesn’t feel like a crutch the way it used to, and the choices of my meals often leave me with a gross, regretful feeling. eating used to be fun for me, one of my favorite things to do, now i’m upset that its something that i have to do in order to stay alive. not in an e***** d******* way, i know how i get when the topic of food leans in that direction, and i don’t think this is it. my mindset now being, if i’m not enjoying food anyways, why not just be a vegetarian and at least do good by my body, since eating is something i have to do?

being in the room

- i spent so much money single-handed decorating the room into a place i could relax and feel like a normal young person, surrounded by a tasteful atmosphere. i can handle being in there for like an hour tops but after that its a lot of overstimulation and suffocating feeling, and i’ll stay in there regardless sometimes bc i know its the only time i’ll have there. i migrated to the two cushion couch, it’s my spot now. in between 8888 sleeping there in the day and me getting ready to sleep by the time she leaves the room to go to work, i’ve spent so little time in there, at least alone, when i’m calm and can connect with the space i’m in. it kind of does feel like a loss, because i spent actual years to make it look like what it looks like. like we’re friends but haven’t talked in a while and lost the spark that we used to have. now that i’ve removed myself from it and don’t clean up after anyone or fix the bed because i’m not using the space, i’ve had significantly less desire to use my time in there. but it’s where the tv is so, its inevitable.

class

- this one i did not expect. i’m unpacking it with my therapist but its taking multiple sessions to get to the root to, and i still don’t have the answers or know why. it confuses me because i still do my maladaptive daydreaming where i’m pretending i’m in a show/movie or on set or a talk show and think about acting quite literally every second of the day.its not always a loud thought but its a present one. i’m currently writing this as i’m not in class right now. it scares me because whatever is making me feel like this is pulling me away from my passion. my energy for it is dying and i’m yelling from the inside for me to not let that happen, and i definitely don’t think its going to permanently fade away but yeah, i’m not enjoying it at this time in my life. which pisses me off because i have a lot of talent and potential that isn’t bring used right now. maybe it shouldn’t be, because i’m not in it 100%. and when i am back to that place, i’ll me a much better actor. that’s what i’m going with.

playing guitar

- i keep the guitar in the room, that’s where i like to play it and i don’t spend much time in there anymore, hence, the guitar playing fizzing out. and the mic on my wired headphones don’t work anymore; i used to plug it in my phone and use this app where i could hear myself sing in my headphones, which made guitar playing really fucking fun. i also need new strings, there’s a lot of factors playing into why. even though i haven’t been playing, i told myself i wouldn’t get my nails done so it would be easy to play and my nails haven’t been done in a while so i think i have some hope/want to get back to it. i see myself going for it when i do: new strings, guitar tutorial app that i have to pay for each month, morning sessions by myself, that sounds nice. i’m just not there right now.

mom

- i think that day where she didn’t listen to my literal cries and needs and we went to the mall to return my gifts and went shopping for her after genuinely broke my heart. ever since its been closed off, to her, and i have no intentions on giving her access to it. which makes me sad, there’s still a small, small part of me that thinks about how i’m gonna feel when she’s dead, that might be yelling at current me to suck it up and enjoy the times i have left with her when she’s “normal.” but current me has no more capacity to take the pain of the switch when she gets the way she gets, sickness or not. if i have to take it just to enjoy the good times, i’d rather sacrifice my time with her altogether. i used to be strong enough to take the switch, but i also used to be a lot more impulsive and violent and those actions and feelings do stem from her. they were very real mommy issues. and i still have issues but they’re released in a more healthy way and i know it’s because i removed all of her access to me and my emotions from her. the full loss of my parents is heavy and sad but this choice i’ve made is crucial to my peace.

taking pictures

- today i was looking through my camera roll bc i wanted to draw myself at different “seasons” of the pandemic and as i was getting more and more recent, there were less pictures of myself. i mean like, instagram worthy, posing, not joking “look at how good i look” pictures. there are some loc progression and gua sha before and afters but there were so many older pictures where you could see the timeline of my hair, my makeup styles, my physical outwardly being. i didn’t even get a photo for this “season” i had to screenshot one of my tiktok drafts. it sounds sad in retrospect but its not something i’m sad about. i don’t use instagram anymore, and its done wonders for my self-comparison to others. maybe taking photos played a part in that and maybe i’ll go back to enjoying it one day, when it’s something that wont fuel what i think about myself and be simply about capturing me.

[effortlesselaboration]

this entry is older, but i’d like to keep it here.

my mom broke my heart.

i’ve known she was a narcissist and have connected the dots to the missing spots from when i was younger, too busy enjoying my childhood to see the true nature of her being. i was fed, had a roof over my head, was occasionally spoiled, so i had no need to look deeper into her genuine psyche. her actions this week, the week of/since my 21st birthday, my mom has successfully hammered the last nail into the coffin that is our relationship. the part of it that contains love, anyways. the disregard of my feelings and needs, and the reaction that comes with it, even when respectfully trying to simply express my feelings towards her has twisted my chest in a way that some how hasn’t happened yet. the quick move-on to her next material endeavor isn’t new to me but i watch her in pursuit of her retail therapy as she ignored my physical, mental and emotional pain. i’m not sure you could call it ignore, i merely didnt exist. not my needs, my opinions, certainly not my voice. i recently made the choice to just give her whatever she needed from me as i was, am, too tired to conjure a fight for my personal and genuine self expression. the act of doing so leaves me with immense rage and a tennis ball in my throat. i luckily, have strengthened my patience and no longer resort to my past releases of anger, using the tools i’ve gathered through my personal reconstruction. being less physical has turned my anger into a more observant type. all that energy, moved into my mind, has led me to more clear portrait of my mom. the recent heart-breaking realization i’ve had is that there’s not any care for the pain that she’s caused me because she legitimately does not see it. i can confidently say that there is not an ounce of self-reflection in this person and it is a “federal crime” to suggest that her actions have caused you to feel any type of negative way. who am i, to tell her that she has a flaw? to express my emotions to my parent, to simply say, this is how what you did made me feel, you would think i’ve committed a murder, with the response i get. i have enough intelligence to know that i am not the reason that i’ve been dealt this hand, that i get this treatment, yet knowing so doesn’t make it any easier to take.

[effortlesselaboration]

something about handwriting in my journal, or just typing to keep it in my notes wasn’t satisfying me enough anymore. i write sparingly, its not often, but when i do, it’s because i need it. my emotions are too overbearing and i can’t handle what i’m physically feeling so i need to release it somehow, writing being a significantly healthier option than the choices of my past. i’ve “broken up” with social media a while ago, the idea of giving so many people access to me, or the version of me that i wanted them to validate had/still disgusts me. there’s probably a better word i can use but disgust is what comes to mind right now. but me doing this, it doesn’t feel like that. which feels like a step in the right direction. if i don’t get anything out of this at least i’ll have a digital time capsule of the person i used to be.