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Why is communication so hard sometimes?
Why do we hurt each other, and ourselves?
Sometimes I wish I could just open myself up, just rip a window, and reveal what I need to share, rather than using words. Apparently my inner turmoil is visible, but inexplicable, to others. Many emotions look similar, from the outside. Being misunderstood is hard. And sometimes we don't make it any easier.
Why do we come together? To learn. How do we learn? By doing, by being, by sharing.
It is not easy, but it is all we've got.
```
My heart is not broken. It is full, and overworked. It's trying to be noble, trying not to be fearful, trying to be everything to everyone and still keep beating. It's tired. I'm tired.
I've been pet sitting this weekend for our Office Manager, who is out of town. This afternoon, after letting her dog out, I went by our Women's Advocate's... she lives near there, and she calmed me down, worked on me for a while, gave my guides a talking-to. She loaned me "Avatar" to watch and read to me out of Zukov's "The Seat of the Soul". I was able to eat after I left, and I think my mind is less crazy.
She spoke to me about things without even knowing that she was speaking what I needed to hear, about that spell we fall into sometimes in which you are not exactly suicidal, but you wouldn't give a damn if you went to sleep and didn't wake up. I know it will pass, I've been here before. But oh, so tired. So fucking tired.
Now here comes a summer thunderstorm... I'm going to read a while, and maybe I'll nap. The cardinals are taking away the peanuts I left outside the sliding glass door, one by one. Let's see if they beat the rain.
Why do we hurt each other, and ourselves?
Sometimes I wish I could just open myself up, just rip a window, and reveal what I need to share, rather than using words. Apparently my inner turmoil is visible, but inexplicable, to others. Many emotions look similar, from the outside. Being misunderstood is hard. And sometimes we don't make it any easier.
Why do we come together? To learn. How do we learn? By doing, by being, by sharing.
It is not easy, but it is all we've got.
```
My heart is not broken. It is full, and overworked. It's trying to be noble, trying not to be fearful, trying to be everything to everyone and still keep beating. It's tired. I'm tired.
I've been pet sitting this weekend for our Office Manager, who is out of town. This afternoon, after letting her dog out, I went by our Women's Advocate's... she lives near there, and she calmed me down, worked on me for a while, gave my guides a talking-to. She loaned me "Avatar" to watch and read to me out of Zukov's "The Seat of the Soul". I was able to eat after I left, and I think my mind is less crazy.
She spoke to me about things without even knowing that she was speaking what I needed to hear, about that spell we fall into sometimes in which you are not exactly suicidal, but you wouldn't give a damn if you went to sleep and didn't wake up. I know it will pass, I've been here before. But oh, so tired. So fucking tired.
Now here comes a summer thunderstorm... I'm going to read a while, and maybe I'll nap. The cardinals are taking away the peanuts I left outside the sliding glass door, one by one. Let's see if they beat the rain.
