Musing on My Being

This is going to be an entry of less formal writing, but I just wanted to spill my brain all over the screen for a second. As I’ve grown older, it’s become much and much easier for me to decipher what’s good for me and what isn’t. This sounds arbitrary, but to me it’s valuable as someone who will end up in a stunted period and just sit there, as I find comfort in stagnancy. It’s a blissful place to be, self-aware enough to know you’re not doing well where you’re at, but not willing to risk the change it’d take to crawl your way out. Change is terrifying for me, and to me major life changes are typically associated with negative experiences. I find now, it takes less and less time for me to get back on my feet. Once I come to a breaking point in my comfort zone it devastates me at first, completely lost without the familiarity of the surroundings I’ve adapted myself to. A part of the difference now is it finally feels like I’m choosing myself, instead of a distant-cousin version of myself shrouded in layers of on-putting. Right now, really the only thing I crave is to exist in my body and treat the form I was given well. I’ve spent many years hating my body, and the person I am beyond that, but lately I feel lucky to get to exist as the person I am, see the people I see and experience the things I experience. I’ve felt like this before, and coincidentally, the most recent time was when I was last sober. When I drink, I throw caution to the wind and often forget about my own values, I assume a character that doesn’t befit who I really am. I feel at peace where I am right now, even amidst the calamity. The confusion I explore through writing doesn’t unsettle me as it once would. I choose to embrace this wavering state of being, and in turn, embrace myself.

My cat is knocking things off the shelf above my bed right onto me. Nothing of concerning weight, just figured I’d end this off there.