Journals From Recovery “She’s Perfect”

Somewhere in the middle of 2016, I wrote this journal entry. Don’t pay attention to the grammar mistakes. This was written emotionally and with emphasis on capitals/lowercase/italic/bolds. I fell November 1st, 2014. Two years later, I’m still mentally torn and it shows below. Recovery is a long process. ____________________________________________________________________

I was the girl You wanted me to be.  Long hair, big boobs and ass, a bikini model body, a life in the city, a funny friend, an outgoing friend, a  gay best friend, other females were jealous of, someone who thinks they are happy, a fake idol, an Instagram exhibition. A single girl going to happy hour, being hit on by an older man at the bar. A weekend yoga kinda gal who thinks she’s at peace because her bills are paid. A soulless yet compassionate, too-kind woman. Not strong enough for herself, yet strong enough for everyone else…to step on. I was the girl I had imagined being as a little girl – bossy and respected, hot and mid-20’s, in charge of enough, but not too much, powerful, a sense of superiority, a sense of ‘the world in my hands,”  a girl with secrets, skeletons in the closet creating seams to fall apart when the time is right. when the day comes to crash and burn, the doors were ready to be opened, after the lock-down had been made. the trap been shut. the wedding over. the secrets were deep, hidden from even herself, for else they could not exist. desires to be more, yet what is more when you have it all? you don’t have enough, the ego would beg. you need more, more, more. money. space. time. work harder, longer, be leaner. lean in.

I was the girl I dreamt of being as a little girl. A fierce, fighting, i.n.d.e.p.e.n.d.e.n.t woman. didn’t need a man to survive, yet emotionally starved for masculine energy. yang. workout, create your own. be your own boss. be your own MAN. I was the girl the media created. The hair was cut on schedule. The nails were done weekly. All 20 of them. The heels were admired, the lipstick was on. Synthesized from Daddy Issues – and the whole world is “daddy.” Synthesized from Mommy Issues – and the whole world is attacking and murdering Mother. Pain. all pain. she was hiding from the pain, explaining to herself how she was past it because she said so. because she thought so. Her Emotional Intelligence was where You wanted it to be, oh Great Delusion.

It wasn’t enough pain to wake her up. She had to lose it all. First came the digestion, but that wasn’t enough scare. Then came the fall. She had no choice but to let go. Fall into the comfortable bed you’ve denied your entire existence. Awaken into the reality that life is what it is, and that is all. Enlighten your being by recognizing your mother is you! your father is you. your brother, sister, and friend is you. And the sleeping qualities within them you are trying to shake awake, yet you must awaken them within you. WAKE UP.

I was the girl you wanted me to be. I was the girl I  thought I wanted to be. Thoughts are delusions. Thoughts are conditions. Conditions are made from the past, not relevant to the now. Feelings and intentions are the truth. I am now the being I intend to be. I am a conscious being existing within a human body. I watch my mind create thoughts daily, sometimes laughing at how negative and silly it tries to make me seem. I know I am not that thought. You are not the sum of your thoughts either if you are watching them dance like a butterfly in the sky. It is the moment you become the fluttering, flittering butterfly that you forget, submit, and get lost within. Feeling each moment we live as if it is the first, the last, and the only brings joy or pain to our being. I am joyed for being able to feel anything at all. I am human and can dance the butterfly dance, or I can be my awareness and be the sky, feeling and experiencing all the dancing life – as it is.

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