My therapist got me started writing “morning pages” to process and clear my head, and that’s where I’ve been writing nearly every day. It’s helped, I think. The concept is to free-write whatever comes to mind, longhand. It doesn’t have to be a narrative or make sense to anyone. It’s not even meant to be reread unless I feel the need. It’s very cathartic.

There’s so much going on with my longest relationship, and I haven’t told many people about it. In short and without detail, this is the most difficult thing I’ve ever gone through, and I’m so grateful that I have support. I’m always hyper-conscious of not abusing an open invitation for anything – even just talking – and that has held me back somewhat. I don’t want to inflict myself on people.

I get in these emotional tangles that can’t be easily identified or sorted through. The practical, logical side of things is conflicting with the emotional side, and both are fighting against my senses of self-awareness and self-preservation. And the whole thing rests on sustainability.

Sustainability. That’s the key word. Is this sustainable? Should it be? If it is, at what cost? Am I willing to pay that price, with some of my self-worth, my identity, my core values? Is this a sunk-cost fallacy, or is it truly worth it? Am I being foolish to entertain sustainability? Would it be foolish of me to not?

Right now, I don’t know.


    1. Author

      Love you too! Also, #fuck2020

Comments are closed.