22 August 2018
Infinitely in between. In size, clothes, shoes, height. Too short for average, too tall for petite.
My mind is fast and I perceive without judgement because all that hate and rage and sadness is directed within.
I feel like I look like a boy but I know I’m a girl. I like being female, I just wish I looked more like one.
I worship the divided divine. I love them all and like all of it. But when it comes to me… why am I so fucking hard to define? For me to define?
I’m like Hermes in the head. I’m mercurian… by nature. Just in the middle. Always in the middle like I have always been.
What does this mean for me? I dunno. It makes sense. It just fits. How does it fit into my life right now? That’s the fucking crux of the problem. I have to make a choice to go one way or the other. Embrace the “female, mother, always giving and never receiving” or embrace the “male, father, director and direction”.
As much as I would love to continue to think on my inner hermaphroditos, my “perpetually in-between”, my role as “bridge”.. bridging the gap fucking forever… philosophy is so fucking amazing but what good is it unless it is applied? And what harm is there in thought?
- Thinking too hard drains my physical health. Diabetes and headaches and shit.
- It takes time away from my responsibilities as mother
- I get to play act “father” or “active protagonist hero” in my head.
- Disharmony between the 2 selves. But I try to unify the 2 with increasing difficulty, as no one else seems willing to “give” as my current needs inconvenience them.
- Everything has some sort of symbolic significance. I am trying to be more mindful of all that I do so I know I’m not trying to get in my own way. I helps me to recognize it for what it is..
- When it’s all in your head, symbolic purpose holds less significance … it must be manifest in reality to really mean something.
- It would make sense then, in terms of timing with the planetary alignments, my health, my mind, my emotions… I put myself through fucking hell and often it’s for nothing. If I was pregnant then I would make the ultimate sacrificial choice. Between continuing to be a mum, and not change anything. Or to abort the potential fetus in favour of pursuing my dreams (that I didnt even realise were possible until just… may/june/july)
- I think I’m pregnant. I don’t want to be. But if I am then I will have to make the ultimate choice (abort abort abort the growth of cells). And fuck… wouldn’t that be so symbolic and thus so heavily weighted. If it was real i know that part of me would die. I don’t want to actually kill anything. It’s too hard, this means so much, I’ve always been like this…
- If it’s all in my head, that would be an amazing relief and I know I won’t have to actually kill part of myself again.
- The way that I think and operate. It doesn’t mean anything except what it means to the individual. Since I think the way that I think/feel/operate is pretty fucking confusing and thus worthy of study… anyway. I had an abortion when my husband and I were first dating. I thought I was barren as years of reckless sex never amounted to any scares whatsoever. I was 18 at the time. 13 years later would be pretty fucking interesting and symbolic… agreeable symmetry aligned with hermetic principles and everything I’ve ever thought/felt/did/was haha.
- I think I’m pregnant and I don’t want to be. It would be easier if I wasn’t. But it wouldn’t surprise me if I was.
I had to write this and “send it out there” before I could … actually check. I wanted to make sure (like, fuck, I’ve always done) I was certain what I was doing… because I’ve always been my worst enemy. I get in my own way.
By involving the public sphere, by “exposing myself”, real vulnerability… I’m very aware of my own shame, and I am afraid of the world. If I can admit this to myself first and see it… if I’m not ashamed to “just be”… this has all been about helping me learn to trust myself. By trusting others first.
I’ve always had to be the one to cross the divide with others… and now I have to actually cross the divide in myself.
I feared insanity. I will go insane if I don’t “outwardly, publicly” express those crazy shit parts of myself. I dont want to punish myself anymore. But I do know that suffering is necessary.