my mind is not a wonderland

my brain is a friggin dick

it’s strange writing this newsletter knowing that it serves as some sort of an online correspondence (parasocial relationships, aren’t they fun?) between you, dear sweaty crouton, and myself. but also that it is a bit of a diary for me, especially when i’m in the pits of my own despair. thanks for the ones who reached out, have been telling me how my writing has brought up some stuff for you, and those who are willing to have conversations about it. something about processing much of my pain in public is cathartic but also uncomfortable. both things can be true at once. (can you tell i went through at least one round of DBT?)

it’s weird because i’ve been screaming on the internet for attention in some way, shape or form since i was seven or eight. more than half my life has been spent online as a shapeshifter and writer. maybe it was more anonymous at the time, but i think i’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist when it comes to putting my emotions out in the open. especially when my mind is cruel to me, or when i’m deep within the recesses of grief.

for some, this seems to be an act of bravery rather than one of desperation, or a cry for help. pre-pandemic, whenever i would write about my mental health and how i struggled to keep it afloat, i would receive private messages about how brave i was for sharing my story. a lot of these heart-warming compliments came from highly successful peers, which stunned me. many would empathize as we commiserated over the ebbs and flows of our anxieties. amidst the mass trauma of the last couple years, i think mental health was prioritized to the point of turning telehealth into even more of a capitalistic scheme than it already was.

i guess it’s not bad though, because it means we’re paying more attention to it. we’re yelling our disorders out loud into the void, and we’re getting responses for connection. that’s pretty fucking beautiful, if you ask me.

i’m also (sometimes) a dick

i’m not immune to pettiness.

in fact, my internal dialogue whenever i get hurt leads to some drastic black and white thinking, and if i’m angry enough… some hurtful and destructive shit. it’s funny to me at the time, and i’m glad i’m not mean enough to say it out loud because i often don’t mean it at the time…

but sometimes i don’t have self control and i end up being a petty bitch 🤦🏻‍♀️ it’s really hard to love someone and live with the pain they may have caused you. in any case, i end up feeling terrible whenever i do something petty, but I’m trying not to be too judgmental and punish myself for it.

suffice to say: be the bigger person when someone hurts you. it gives your mind some peace knowing this person can’t say shit about you. but hey, I guess they could. but they’re not your problem anymore. wow, i suck. anyway, i did a petty thing and i’m pretty sure i hurt that person but we’re not in contact currently so here’s a spectacularly fucked up public apology: i’m sorry.

the pettiness really did come from inside the house.

do as I say, not as I do

pettiness comes from pain. since i’m not on speaking terms with the person— i’ll probably take some time to process and apologise if we ever go back to contacting each other. it’s odd to know to love someone and still not have them in your life. going no contact with someone you spoke to on a daily basis is one of the most difficult things to do. it’s like an addiction. i always surprise myself with how long the mourning of a loss takes. even when that person is no longer in focus, but rather, now on the periphery.

my friend mentioned to me out of comfort that staying in each other’s lives was probably not in the cards given our various astrological placements and synastry. and well, I guess the sheer intensity and trajectory of the entire relationship. one of those beautifully tragic explosions. or like a car crash. except none of it happened in slow motion and it was in real time and it blindsided me.

i don’t know. i hate sounding self-victimising and whiny, but it’s also my newsletter so…

i’m trying to give myself grace. i’m fallible. and most of all, i’m sorry for it. don’t be like me. take the high road, as michelle obama basically said because when they go low, we go high. or something. i’m high as we speak, can you tell?

this one is for Venus (i love you girl but you’re killing me)