There is a song called, “Engine Driver“, by The Decemberist. It is probably one of the saddest songs I have ever heard. I do not know why it hits me the way it does, me the eternal goth girl that has listened to hundreds of thousands of hours of The Cure and Joy Division (and countless other bands to slit your wrists to).
And I am a writer, writer of fictions
I am the heart that you call home
And I’ve written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones
There is a hallow in some of the words that I would feel when I would listen to it. Like I could settle like dust and no one would even know I was there in a house that seldom got tidied up.
I’m a money lender
I have fortunes upon fortunes
Take my hand for tender
I am tortured, ever tortured
I have not listened to this song in years. It came into my thoughts when I started to write. Rarely do I know what I am going to postulate in this space.
My only goal is to do so on a daily basis. It keeps me away from the corners of myself that like to sit in the dark and ruminate and dig and scratch (which, dear hearts, is the opposite of kissing and trembling and writhing but around these parts we do this so infrequently that talking about it is in riddles) AND BEING IN ARIES SEASON (did you feel that shift? That need to stand up and say uh-uh no way, not today satan, NOT TODAY? Thank you fire seasons, THANK YOU) we do not dwell or think impossible* things, no, we focus on what is and saturate ourselves in the gloriousness of stability and hope.
*impossible adj: not able to occur, exist, or be done (summoning the dead, unicorns, angels or really perfect fitting jeans)
Why do I post every day?
I am breaking a habit loop.
The Habit Loop is a neurological loop that governs any habit. The habit loop consists of three elements: a cue, a routine, and a reward. Understanding these elements can help in understanding how to change bad habits or form better ones.
I decided writing here was better than the nonsense I was up to in the first place. It takes up less time and is constructive.
“Imagine you are with someone and they are constantly suspicious of you. Imagine how that feels.”
Everyone has wounds. No one is free from trauma. When you realise this, it is easy to feel compassion for others. It does not seem insane to forgive those that have hurt you because you understand. You have a past, too. You probably picked at their wounds without even realising it. Instead of being kind and loving, you took them lashing out at you as a personal attack.
uncertainty or anxiety about oneself; lack of confidence.
the feeling or belief that one can have faith in or rely on someone or something.
complete trust or confidence in someone or something.
firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something.
…do you see what just happened there?
Being insecure is 100% of the reason why I have waited for people to treat me poorly. I did not think I deserved any better. Why? I lacked confidence. Why did I lack confidence? (in a nutshell) I did not have the faith in myself that I could accomplish anything worthwhile. And why was that? I had no trust in myself or others.
If you spend a lot of time here, you know this story already. If you are new here (hi!), here is an idea of what I am talking about without trying to figure out the wonky navigation of this blog (yeah, I know the buttons are missing. The calendar works. I am getting around to fixing it).