Musing Moment 095: My Place

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I spend a lot of time on Facebook. I spend a lot of time in bed, resting, which usually leads to sleeping.

 

I spend a lot of time thinking that I should be doing something meaningful with my life. I spend a lot of time not having the energy to do much of anything by the time I get home, like today…

 

I went to work. I’m giving myself points for that because I really didn’t want to. Next week is my last week. Friday I have my exit interview. I’m sad when I think about it. I’m sad thinking that I’m going to be leaving everyone soon. I’m sad that it feels like goodbye.

 

I spent most of the lab scrolling through Facebook. I did everything I needed to do beforehand. I emailed Jason to update him on life and to solidify dates with him. I replied to all of the emails I had. I did all of these “things” and then I had nothing else to occupy my time with. At least nothing that I really wanted to do. So instead I scrolled through Facefail, saving images with inspiration quotes on them until the day was over and I was allowed to leave.

 

I had no intention of going to the gym today, which ended up working in my favor because there was a torrential down pour going on as I was leaving work. I just wanted to come back “home” to my extended stay and not be outside or around people.

 

So that’s where I am. At home, in comfy clothes, not sure what to do about food, and in general sort of sad and introspective.

 

There is a realness to everything now. I have a UBox reserved for the 8th. That’s when I’ll be packing my things to have them shipped to Vegas. I have the going away event, laser tag awesomeness, set up for the 9th. On the 11th, Monday, the start of the week, I check out of my extended stay and begin my trip westward.

 

There are so many things I’m looking forward to. Attending the dojang. Having a full-sized kitchen to myself. Using my pots and knives and in general being able to cook again. Turning the garage into my own personal workout area. Starting a herb garden. Potentially looking into reiki. Maybe becoming a certified nursing assistant. Having dinners with Lio and Jason.

 

I want all of those things. The thought of them makes me happy.

 

I have to leave Orlando to do those things. The thought of leaving hurts. I don’t want to hurt.

 

It sucks. It’s confusing. I don’t want to process but I know I need to. And so that’s where I’m at.

 

I saw V again last night. There was one point where we were talking and I started to cry. And by cry I mean I had tears running down my cheeks. I wasn’t sobbing, but I was remembering painful memories and because of that there were tears that I couldn’t stop.

 

V saw them and asked what was wrong.

 

“Emotions,” was the only word I could say. He reached out and wiped away one of the tears with his thumb. I tried pulling away and saying sorry. I didn’t want to mess up the night with emo stuff. I didn’t want to feel disappointment or rejection. I didn’t want to feel vulnerable because being vulnerable always seems to mean I’m going to end up hurt.

 

He kept his hand on my face even though I tried to pull away. I wanted to hide. I wanted to not hurt. He told me to look at him, and after an internal struggle of fearing what I would see, I did look up at him.

 

“It is not your place to be ashamed. Don’t ever feel ashamed for what you feel. It is your place to be the confident woman you are.”

 

I keep thinking of that phrase.

 

It’s not my place to feel ashamed.

 

It makes me think of all of my past relationships. The ones I knew I should have left. The ones that made me question and doubt myself. The ones that made me feel unworthy. The ones where I was gross. Mentally unstable. Fucked up. A whore. A cheater. Cumrag…

 

I think of all of these emotionally horrific experiences where the person who claimed to love me degraded me and made me feel less than. Made me feel ashamed of myself because being me was the absolute worst, most awful thing I could have done.

 

It’s not my place to feel ashamed.

 

Then why I was in so many places that made me feel that way? I instinctually want to pull away from this kindness because it is so hard to trust it now. I trusted all of my previous partners. I don’t feel like a confident woman. And maybe that’s because right now I’m still figuring out how to stand on my own. It’s not just mom’s death. It’s the betrayal of Zane. It’s the ending of my job. It’s the loss of my sphere in Orlando.

 

I feel hurt. I feel lost sometimes. I feel like this is another transitional period and things are shifting and I’m losing touch with solid ground. It’s scary and I just want to know that what I’m doing is right.

 

And yet, feeling V’s hands hold my cheeks while we looked at each other, his thumbs rubbing the tears away… I felt no negativity from him. It was ok to feel everything I was feeling. It was ok to have tears because tears didn’t make me a bad person or less than. It didn’t feel like lip service even though the things he said where everything I’ve wanted to hear. It felt like he meant those words. It felt like he cared.

 

It’s not my place means that I shouldn’t be there. I shouldn’t be in places that make me feel unworthy, that make me feel less than. I’m not less than. I deserve respect. I deserve to feel wanted and loved and cared for. Not ashamed and like a beaten animal. I shouldn’t feel the need to cower away from someone when I cry. I shouldn’t feel sorry for feeling because feeling isn’t a bad thing. I’m allowed to feel. There is no shame in feeling, in expressing, in being human.

 

I wish I could say I was confident. But right now I’m not. Right now I feel the need to cry and purge the hurt of all of those memories. It’s not my place, but I felt all of those emotions. I felt shame and regret and guilt because so many people have told me that I should feel those things.

 

I don’t know what this is. Healing maybe? It’s confusing. It hurts. I need to let go of it, of them. These dark pieces of shattered memory. These shards that keep cutting me, causing my confidence to bleed out of me through the slashes. Like so many other aspects of myself, I need to look at these situations and evaluate them.

 

Do I accept these things
as truths about me?

 

Am I gross because I sweat when I bike 7 miles to work everyday?

 

Am I mentally unstable for being interested in BDSM?

 

Am I fucked up for preferring an atypical relationship dynamic?

 

Am I a whore, a cheater, for being involved with another person once a relationship is over?

NO.

No. My answer is no to all of those questions and so many more. No. I’m not gross. No. I’m not unstable. No. I’m not fucked up. No. I’m not a cheater or a whore.

 

I don’t want to feel shame for being who I am. I don’t want to give dishonorable people the power to make me feel shame. My place is not in my past. My place is not to feel ashamed anymore. It never was my place to feel ashamed about who I was.

 

My place is here. In the present. My place is figuring myself out, finding myself and my truths. My place is to be me. My place is to know myself. And knowing myself, believing in myself, is how I will return to being confident.

 

My place is not in my past. My place is here in my present.

 

 

 

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