I am suffering from sob constipation. I’m holding so much in, but there’s not a safe place to let it go. I let one tear out today, but I have nowhere to put it entirely. I’ve been wanting to call my sister for weeks and try there, (fat chance) but keep making excuses to not to do it, so I don’t.
I don’t know what is self pity, and what is grief.
I constantly grieve the loss of my family. Sometimes that coagulates into self pity, but mostly it’s a constant stream of grief. There are people who have done stupid things, and their families held onto them, and were there and didn’t let them go. I did NOTHING. I transitioned. And they let me go.
The rest of this is probably only self pity:
At BEST I am in a laundry at the fountain square scenario, one of the girls in their gossip circle, and I have to suffer in silence.
That’s at best.
With family all I’m seeing it as, is I’m a thirsty man, but am drinking poison. Is that really any better?
I don’t have any friends to move forwards to instead. There, I am a starving man. With any interaction at all, I can’t handle too much of it. I sip at it. And that water turns sour because of a nonexistent reaction time. I am looking through a rolodex to find something to say or share, and by the time I think of something, it’s too late. If I try to say anything at all, it’s a naked dumbledore move. If I do hit on something, The inability to keep up causes overstimulation and then it crumbles. And if the overstimulation occurs, my hackles are up and I’m useless after that.