And time keeps slipping by

I guess this is what it feels like. To care so much that it literally breaks your heart.

I mean, I've experienced it before in some respects. With my family, and Princess. But damn. right now, it really hurts. And I didn't think it would hurt this much.

I get it finally, when people talk about feeling, and caring so much. That they care even when they know it's not worth it, and that each time they get shut down, they get right back up and let the blows continue. Fist, eye, elbow, jaw, knuckles, kidney, knee, groin.

Over, and over again.

I've been selfish. That I can attest too. Everyone has their moments. And I'm trying not to judge. But it's really hard, to sit here and know that...

So many of these girls. That I care so much about. Who I give up so much for, who I kill myself over everyday to make a difference in their lives -- would still chose everything over me. Or  even someone else.

Knife point in, twisting. Deeper, harder, swifter, hurting.

I get it now, what my moms talked about for years. How she can give so much, and care so much, and I still choose me over the greater good.

I'm not trying to judge, because I'm selfish too. Hell, look at this post. But damn. I feel so alone, in a building full of people. Lost, because I am too easily found. Too easily accessible when necessary for ones-self.

Damn.

It's not even the people who live within my building anymore.

I feel like half the people in my life could care less at this point. Maybe not half, but some of the people I really thought I could count on at the very least.

Just sucks. That people I actually care about could care less about me.

It's a crappy feeling.

I wish I never had to learn this lesson.

This blog's blown up in the past day, day and a half time frame. I've gotten almost 100 page views, and I don't really know why. 

I can't decide if I'm excited that people are so eager to delve into my subconscious, or if I'm scared that people won't understand why I use my words to sort through my thoughts. 

Don't judge. Accept. Tolerate. 

Sounds reminiscent of a point I made last year around this time. 

Sometimes, I feel like I can't win. Do one thing awesomely, fail at five others.

Awesome at my job? Can't see friends, gaining weight, feeling self conscious, constantly sick, and lonely. At least I get to see my family every now and then.

Sucky at my job? Don't even want to go there. Because I won't be.

I just need to learn to balance. I learned how to balance before, and I can learn how to balance now. I will learn how to balance now. I will not fail at anything. Any longer.

And everything I can't remember

Maybe I'm losing it. Or maybe, this was a sign that I needed this sign.

Since the 'ancient' times, people have always thought of dreams as more than just a subconscious occurrence. They have believed them to be signs of things to come, for communication sources from those who have passed on, for the idea to have faith in fate.

I've always believed to some extent, that this is true. That my dreams show me ideas I have, of places and things I want to see again, or people I want to come back into my life.

I had a dream, the night before the one year mark of Uncle Kurt's .....well, you know what I'm saying. Where we were sitting at the kitchen table, eating, and talking with the whole family, just like we always used too.  He was just there, chilling out until I suddenly blurted out "You can't be here; you're dead". He looked at me, got up, walked out, and I woke up. I wasn't sure what had happened, but for some reason it gave me a sense of relief. That even if he wasn't here, he was still looking out for me. That I knew he would  be proud of me. That it's OK that I still cry about him. That he still cares.

I've had other dreams too, but these have Grandpa mainly. They vary on the time of the year, or whats going on my life. But I can honestly say I always feel better waking up, and knowing that even if it isn't him communicating with me, my subconscious knew I needed some Grandpa time. That I wasn't crazy for still caring about him.

However, today was weird. Beyond weird actually. I was sitting on my floor, working on the stupid art project that has to include at least nine different objects, a moving part, and be visually attractive. As I'm sitting there struggling, two of my girls walk in. They ask to see what I;m working on, and as I stand up to show them...it hits me.

Literally Deja Vu. Like my brain knew I'd be here someday, and that it wanted to give me a sign. That I really am where I need to be. That even though I was pretty sure this was where I wanted to be, it was giving me the kick in the ass to really accept that I'm doing something worthwhile.

I'd had a dream about this moment. That this would happen. That I would be here, doing this.

So maybe I am crazy. And reading too far into feelings.

But I'd like to think this is a point, a resting place to accept it.

I always forget to tell you

I want to write. To pull off the tension that sits on my chest. To throw it into black and white and banish it from through process for awhile. To document the fantastic adventure I'm having, and the wonderful women I get to have in my life. And men. But mainly women. But being slightly sickly and sniffly, I may just have to curl up after my homework is done and accept as much as I want to do this, I can't until I take care of myself physically first.

I'm turning into my mother. Where I put everyone but myself first. That I run, and run, and run some more. Then I do a tap dance to make everyone not mad at me anymore and start helping everyone again.

After Homecoming, I'm changing this. I'm going to schedule in Emily time. And I'm going to be OK with it.

Here's to hoping this bullshit post can get me to 2,000 page views so I could have a little joy associated with my writing for a little bit.

Breathe. Re-Group. Move Forward.

.....It's actually a lot harder than it sounds.

Even if the skies get rough

I hate stumbling, and feeling like the ground is moving beneath my feet. Not that anyone enjoys having their world tilted, or shoved. To feel like the sky has suddenly turned a shade of black that you only see in the horror movies. That the tendrils of failure are creeping out from the maze of life and pulling you down. 

The pavement of success is buckling underneath my feet and causing me to get sea legs. To become jelly. To not trust that I do actually know what I'm doing. The fear of failure is weighing down on my chest, and causing my heart to race, to pound, to pain me with the thoughts of defeat. 

But I'm trying to regroup. To convince myself that two mistakes aren't going to be my downfall, as long as I learn from them. 

Because I won't let them pull me down. Because I can do this. Because I will do this.