- My not sleeping is of the ‘Freddy’s gonna kill me’ variety, not a manic one
- Brave vs. Courage (1)
- Hugging mostly sucks (2)
- My house does not equal home (plus it’s tidy, but not clean. I don’t know how this connects to any of my issues, but it probably does) (3)
- Lamictal helps me survive, but in doing so hampers my ability to live
- My acceptance window is shut, but my tolerance window has never been closed.
1) Cousins see my Steve Rogers side, which lights up a genuine Captain America for them. For them, (and my cat, back at my parents’ house) I feel courage.
For everyone else I know, it’s bravery. They see the sexy uniform and shield, and for them that equals the Capt. The don’t care to see the Steve Rogers behind it.
2) Which is also why hugging them, even touching them, makes me feel disgusting. They are hugging what they want to see, what they think is real, a courage, but because they don’t care to see the Steve Rogers part, my actual courage quails, because they’re touching it, dragging it to light, without bothering to care about it.
Hugging strangers is better than hugging them. Strangers haven’t formed an opinion, whereas family insists on theirs, and fuck mine.
3) The ‘house not being home’ pain used to be ‘not allowed’, but now it’s, I see that I’m allowed (but that’s still hard). but the worst of it is that no one else is there. Friend, family, or lover. All those are different kinds of pain: Friend: regret, shame. Family: a young abandonment. Lover: a bitter self disgust. Plus all three have a wistful, missing them feeling to it.
PS: I got a diagnosis that makes sense, finally. PTSD, and ADD. The ADD is biological, and the PTSD, you know how that goes. I don’t know how to fix it, there isn’t a right answer. I wish I had a mentor, though, an older guy. The past six years I’ve been trying to learn ‘guy’ on my own, and before that, trying to learn ‘human’ on my own. I am a blob of ‘not raised.. at all, really’, and I’ve been having a hell of a time trying to do it alone.