I never wanted this

Every so often (usually like every few weeks), my boss sits me down and talks to me, usually over breakfast. These meetings are almost always supposed to be working breakfasts and most times, they instead turn to free therapy sessions. I cried last week - multiple times. The truth is that as much as I have no idea what I want, rejection never feels like redirection. It always feels like just that – rejection.

He keeps telling me that I’m not supposed to have it all figured out and I believe that, but this brain of mine, it has a hard time accepting that. How do you explain to someone that you are self aware of all of the things you are discussing, but that it gives you absolutely no solace or comfort? My brain is on overdrive trying to figure out something it does not have the capacity to figure out. And so, I write. I know I haven't in a while and I guess it really took a crash out to come back to this safe space. I stopped paying for my blog because I haven't written. It's been a long time since I took my thoughts to paper.

It feels poetic, this emotional torment. On one end, I want a lobotomy. On the other, I want to feel every feeling there is to feel. Is this it? I have been thinking about signs a lot. I keep seeing angel number formulations, signs that are supposed to give me some ease. You’re in the right place at the right time Cez, everything will work out as it is supposed to.

The truth is that I never really wanted this. I didn't want to go down this path in life. All the same, I really didn't know what I wanted either. I'm one of those people that loves lots of things but never loved anything enough to make it stick. I love writing but like everything, it turns into a chore, a less than expressive form when it comes with deadlines. When you have to make tweaks that someone wants you to make to something that is so authentically you. When the light in your eyes dims just a little with each and every time that something or someone tells you that all that work was just not enough. I'm afraid that this does not apply to just writing. It's everything all at once. Just - not - enough.

This isn't a cry for help. I've cried enough frankly. I've never been characterized as weak, I don't think I ever really even associated myself with that word. I've always been the big sister, the protector, the survivor, the one that everyone comes to. All the while, I have always hated feeling like someone feels bad for me or that their empathy is supposed to give me some sort of feeling of relief - that someone is thinking of me and wants me to do better, to be better. Even the thought of that makes me feel uneasy. I am not a wounded deer in the headlights.

It really is poetic. The tough girl act as some may call it, the need to be seen, but not touched. The need for validation but not feeling validated when given as much. The desire to be held but not be told that everything will be okay. I don't need a promise of a better tomorrow, I'm still thinking about today. Poetic. Perhaps a little heart-breaking.