Being a creative person and blogging, both require a certain amount of openness and vulnerability. If you ask any of the people I have dated in the past, you would quickly find out that those are not things that come easily to me.
There’s a fine line between being truly one’s self with whole and open recklessness, and being a genuine and honest person. I am comfortable saying I am an honest person. I know I mean what I say, and I take others at their word.
I am terrified of being vulnerable. I have been hurt so much, that openness feels like asking to be traumatized. And I’m full up on trauma tyvm.
What happens then, is that something will happen, I’ll take time to process it and withdraw. Then something else happens and I’m already withdrawn. Which means I’m hurting again, but now I’m also very much alone.
In my life, the escalation is fast, and dramatic.
After the fourth or fifth trauma, I’m devastated, alone, out of options, and putting any energy into artistic things – stuff that makes life worth living – is impossible. More than impossible. It’s a distant joke.
Creating is one of the most important things in my life. When I can’t focus on it, when my thoughts are a desperate handful of soggy crackers, it’s like I’ve lost myself. I don’t know how to get back from here, but I know I will. I always do.
I will always carry these burdens. This most recent trauma, will be with me forever. A very deep scar across my heart. It has taken my faith in inherant goodness, a piece of my identity, a part of my fragile joy, and a slice of my light. I’m still working through how I move forward from it.
I need to create. Even when my well is dry. Because it’s usually barren.