I’m just not doing okay. I feel like I lost something essential to my existence. There is no drive to do anything. Very small acts of service are barely keeping me afloat. I made Red Lentil Dal yesterday, homemade and it was good. I was proud and pleased that my husband liked it. He enjoys good food and it made him happy. It’s one of the few things I do that I hear anything close to praise and I recognize how much I need that, that praise. I have so many issues with praise it’s ridiculous. The rest of my life is empty.
A few months back I cut a good deal of my on-line social life off. I stopped writing. I stopped blogging. I closed my blogs. I’ve been running hard out away from someone when I’ve been conflicted about them. I know I’m all messed up in the head. I know I don’t react like expected. I know I’ve created more mess and dramas in my life than I ever wanted.
I abandoned the belief that I am a slave. I abandoned that part of me as well. I am struggling to function now. I feel like I hacked off my arms. I lost something that day.
I took the idea that maybe I’m too co-dependent and that needs working on. I took the idea that I can survive without a Master and I am finding now that my purpose has always been something set outside of myself and never for myself. In rejecting being a slave, I’m not even able to find comfort in the idea of taking care of myself because I’m kept in holding for a Master to come. I find I have no comfort standing alone. I find purpose fleeting once accomplished. The task on hand only matters when it has nothing to do with me.
I know I’m not doing okay. This isn’t like depression, not any depression I’ve ever experienced. It’s like I’ve been infected with the “I don’t care” but it’s focused on me. I know I’m still grieving losing Master.
Somehow I got too tied up into what he thought of me. But I rejected being a slave. But I rejected him. But I rejected all of this. I rejected embracing being co-dependent. I rejected and I rejected and I rejected.
What’s the point? I just not doing good. I don’t know how to kick my ass enough to care. I don’t know how to break out of this cycle. I don’t know how to give a shit about myself. Fake it till you make it hasn’t started working. I’m faking it badly. I’m tired. What if I was wrong? What if I can’t cut that part of me without losing everything that I am? What if I really do need a Master?
How can I be wrong when being a slave is a choice? I choose to walk away. I choose to cut that part of my life out. I choose. I’m finding I didn’t have the parts to replace what I cut away and they are either atrophied or not growing fast enough.