Ouroboros His perfectionism reminds me of who i used to wish to become, what i am glad to not be now, and all my insecurities and self-doubt at who i am, my intelligence, and my self worth. when i'm with him i feel unintelligent, uneducated, and useless. i feel like a burnt-out shadow of my original potential. 060508
Ouroboros I will never be good enough.
His very existence negates my own.
Ouroboros Stupid internet social sites 080401
Ouroboros stupid me for even thinking this way.

I hate that he is here, in this same city of lost angels, living out his life that i wish could be my own- but he never did drugs, he never strayed from his truth, he mastered his body, he mastered his mind, he traveled, he created, he found love, and he will keep on going up and up. and i am all the opposite/flip side/down side
Risen People make fun of being "triggered" in the same way people make fun of having to be PC.

Being triggered is more painful than any broken bone. It's a pain there is no painkiller for. It's a pain which doesn't come with a time limit, or a healing schedule.

Besides my Oxford shit-post (pun intended) I haven't really written on blather about my triggers or my trauma.

I'm a person who most people would say is open, and talks about my feelings and thoughts, my past. But it's not true. I keep a lot of things locked in the dark corners of my memory.

I'm terrified that when my niece turns 6, I won't be able to look at her without being triggered.

I'm scared that I've got to choose between ripping apart someone's childhood memories, or lying about mine. And that avoiding making that choice for nearly a decade hasn't made it any easier.

I'm scared that I am so alone, so weak, so vulnerable, so abandoned, that I won't be able to survive the next wave that life throws at me. The next thing I took for granted that it takes from me. I nearly drowned once, and it felt like this.

But then I've been feeling like that for years now. I never thought I could survive any of the previous blows, either. And I did.

So somewhere in all of that, I begin to wonder if this means I am getting stronger. That maybe, as they say, "The same hammer which shatters glass forges steel".

Maybe, just maybe, I can survive all of this. If I can just hold on for long enough, the waves will die down, and I'll be me again. I can make friends, find someone to love, somewhere to live, a job, a life, a future.

The "turning-tide" step might be to go pick up those degrees I worked so hard for and cared so much about once upon a time. But the first step needs to be surviving. Just that. Surviving.

I need to learn to live with my triggers, not avoid them. It was a waste of so many things, including time.
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