a dream I had where Cubu and I were going to sleep and when we woke up, we’d be engaged. But here I am, waking up, and that is nowhere near the case. We’ve been dating for 3.5 years, we’ve lived together for years, we have a house and a car together, we plan for our future together. But until I work through my SIA stuff, he doesn’t want to fully commit. Which I understand because divorce is devastating and difficult, but it feels like the biggest vote of non-confidence to my emotional self.

The pale pink sunrise I got to see this morning because I woke up 10 mins earlier for this practice.

Despite all my cleaning yesterday, there’s still more to clean and when I finish that, the things I did today will need to be re-cleaned. Even with a good groove on household cleaning, it never fucking ends. Bonus gratitude for needing to dust this house for the first time but it sets off my asthma, so there’s that to look forward to.

A rare burst of anger I’m having for my foster father Ludvig for killing himself. I mean what the fuck. We’ve all fucking been there, but we don’t do it! We get help, we talk to someone, we do SOMETHING. He has (had) a wife, twin children, me, and was at the peak of his career. Just leaving wasn’t a fucking option.

Feeling guilt at feeling anger because I understand it isn’t as simple as that and that he was struggling for years. And from what I’ve read, and what I know of him, it breaks me to think that he died because he truly believed everyone would be better off without him.

The despair that sits in me at all times when I think of the immense and isolating pain he must have been suffering from for years.

The craft he taught me when he was alive. Every window I build has him in it, because he taught these hands. For context, my other job is that I build stained glass windows for homes. Ludvig was my mentor, and it’s how we got so close.

The panty liners I have to wear every day because of the weight gain. None of my pants have elastic and now barely fit. So when I squat for my job, if my bladder isn’t completely empty, I pee a little. This is aside from them feeling like they’re cinching me all morning. I could buy new pants, but that feels like I’m giving in to the possibility of not losing it.

This one guy in my Friday SIA group that is just super disrespectful every fucking week. He reads/is distracting while others are sharing, interrupts, says sexist shit that he validates with “and it’s right to feel this way”, aggressively shares his trauma in the most graphic and explicit words at random intervals with no trigger warnings.

Honestly he scares me and sometimes I have to remind myself it’s just a video call, I’m safe. I’m glad he’s in SIA because he’s clearly acting out of pain but I would be even more glad if he’d just think about how others feel for one second in this fragile, emotionally charged, really sensitive environment.

Binging today even as I type this message.