full disclosure.

yes, it was still exactly as hard as i thought/felt/knew it would be.

i refuse to allow my mother to undo all of the progress i have made in my relationship with myself.

if i need to fall apart, that’s okay. but i will do so, and reassemble, and i will not hate myself for being human.

remarks upon the heart-rate of this particular corner of Interweb.

i don’t have much for you today. you’ll be fine, those of you who do read the silly outpourings of Self i’ve left in utter disorganization around here. the one remarkable aspect of this day in particular is that i got a facial for the first time. i didn’t settle into the experience until it was decidedly underway (we’re still working on comprehension of things deserved) and from my vantage point it doesn’t seem to be an activity that demands inclusion into any sort of routine, but it was nice. so many of the trials and tribulations i’ve endured with my skin are in no small part caused by the frenetic quasi-ubiquitousness of emotional stress within which i flail more often than not.

my head is still throbbing, likely at the same notch on the metronome as my heart. we’re not going to talk about the increase in my resting heart rate that i’ve noticed—how could i not, guilty nervous dissectress of minutiae i have wholly proven myself to be?—over the past year. i’m working on it (which may be the problem).

i have yet to feel a single unmixed emotion today, and plunging myself into the tangle is just too much. none of them shrieks with enough adamance to warrant immediate processing. they all seem a little distant, a little muted. is emotional shellshock a thing?

ugh. i don’t blame the fifty-five of you who have, i am entirely sure, scrolled right on by, for having your attentions captured by posts of much greater import than this one. my corner is besieged by dust at glacial speed, and the accumulation will soon be cause for alarm. who knows where i’ll be by then? maybe Anxiety Girl waits already in the wings, poised and ready to rectify whatever This (expansive gesture) situation is.

in other news: first week of classes was lovely, really it was, but there’s so much to speak of that the lovely things have had no choice but to chug along behind. i see you, though, and you know i’m a little bit of a mess because i’ve been neglecting you, but i’m a grateful little bit of mess, at least.

i’m sorry that my world has been resisting depiction of late.

should i be worried that i apparently don’t have enough of a handle on it to pin it down with verbs, glorify it with adjectives and Name it with Proper nouns? it’s not for lack of trying (though perhaps i ought to try to try less). i’m wearing the scarf my sister brought home for me from Prague, and i’m surprised by how attached i am to it, upon putting it on for the first time. it’s a pretty thing, a fitting thing, probably more raival than August the seventeenth calls for, but Sonoma County defies seasonal reason, so my following suit is, if anything, an homage to this strangest of climatic microcosms in which i find myself much of the time.

anyway. i’m off to pick blackberries in my own little patch of pastorality. they’ll be pies by nightfall, but you can expect arful pictures to commemorate their feral existence and ritualized inclusion into the human experience.

Having A Night.

I am loved! Repeating. I. am loved.