herlucidlife

My greatest source of comfort has always been the fantasy my intellect creates. As a little child I used to daydream about my future love and salivate over salacious scenes. All mirrored on the big screen in my mind, they are my escape. My forever drug of choice will always be the organ in between my ears. Isolation, community, love, anger everything that I could ever yearn for is accessible in this mind. Churning content out for years, I have no clue how to make her stop. How do I halt the mental operation of things that feed no purpose to my life?

I think about this man yet he brings no purpose to my day to day life, just misery of what I can’t have. I’ve emotionally isolated myself for so long, constantly reconfiguring the fantasy in my head to match reality because truth be told I’d rather have the imaginary than the real thing. The real thing is messy, disappointing and houses things I’d rather leave in the garbage. Yet my fantasy is exactly what I want. The only thing is none of it is tangible. I can’t hold a fantasy and feel it squeeze me tight. I can’t have a spiritual conversation with my imaginary husband.

The real thing is scary because I can’t control it, all I can do is surrender and trust. My imagination is under my control at all times doing what I allow until it takes on power of its own and won’t shut off, but at least it’s always a subject I enjoy. Fiending in natural addictive form, crazy how adding an “r” changes the word to friend, just one shift in lettering can change the course of everything. I’ve done my best to shut my mind off. The only thing that brings some mental solace is being around other recovering addicts in meetings.

I like myself. I enjoy being around me, no matter how this mind tries to choke me out. I’m fond of the sense of humor behind this smile. I revel in the resiliency hidden behind my eyes that will not give up no matter the happenings of life. I adore the emotional depth I carry toward other people, feeling the bottom of my soul in every way. I appreciate the spiritual connection to the inner workings of my gray matter. I rejoice in the creativity manifesting in my bones bringing calm to my being when released. I savor the gentle touch given to life, nothing done in an aggressive nature. I like myself and it behooves me to think someone else wouldn’t. 

Been in my head a lot today. Not doing well at talking myself off of personal ledges. Sometimes I think I’m reaching out to the wrong people, folks that don’t need me in their life. Feeling ignored, causing some bruising to my heart. I’d rather speak objectively than specifically. Not naming names or giving so much detail that the person could be found out. I’m getting to the point of “fed up.” Usually when my mind gets bored with a topic or person it will put it to bed and not go back until new information is recorded. I’m bored with the thought of him. No longer wanting to sniff the same hot mess. I’m forcing myself to be done because well…I’m tired of hurting myself with discontent for the present.