[old entry, posted late]
Thursday, December 26th, 2019 06:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
erika2019.
I've gotten out of the habit of journalling, and I regret that. Still, along the way I dropped the excoriating retrospection, severe introspection, damaging reflection. Maybe the trade's worthwhile.
I wish I still wrote more... Today while I reminded myself a large part of me wants to, so many more parts of me asked to give input, attempted acknowledgment, day to day internal validation. I don't need it outside.
These days what I love is the times I drop into the moment, loving myself and therefore everyone around me the way that we all are. Awakening to the strange, new concept of myself, surrounded by love and respect. Myself, actually appreciated.
It's so damn new——and I know I should love it—— but often appreciation is nigh-intolerable discomfort, frankly. So much of that pain refracts within me to reflect the sorrows and thousand arrows of misfortune that were days gone by.
Moving gave me this golden opportunity, a new and unusual synthesis of my Self as a reflection in the eyes of people who had just met me, weren't beholden to the history, and frankly thought respect and generosity of spirit are more important than "cold as the fallen thermometer in December" Correctness.
Is everywhere perfect? No. I'm starting to notice the flaws. Someone said on Monday, "all we ever talk about in SC is the price of housing, the traffic and the homeless. In winter, weather."
I've gotten out of the habit of journalling, and I regret that. Still, along the way I dropped the excoriating retrospection, severe introspection, damaging reflection. Maybe the trade's worthwhile.
I wish I still wrote more... Today while I reminded myself a large part of me wants to, so many more parts of me asked to give input, attempted acknowledgment, day to day internal validation. I don't need it outside.
These days what I love is the times I drop into the moment, loving myself and therefore everyone around me the way that we all are. Awakening to the strange, new concept of myself, surrounded by love and respect. Myself, actually appreciated.
It's so damn new——and I know I should love it—— but often appreciation is nigh-intolerable discomfort, frankly. So much of that pain refracts within me to reflect the sorrows and thousand arrows of misfortune that were days gone by.
Moving gave me this golden opportunity, a new and unusual synthesis of my Self as a reflection in the eyes of people who had just met me, weren't beholden to the history, and frankly thought respect and generosity of spirit are more important than "cold as the fallen thermometer in December" Correctness.
Is everywhere perfect? No. I'm starting to notice the flaws. Someone said on Monday, "all we ever talk about in SC is the price of housing, the traffic and the homeless. In winter, weather."
