Pain, chaos and destruction have been defining factors in my life. And when I begin to think outwards I see that this is true in everything I see around me.

Creation through destruction is a necessary part of the process of existence.

So logic follows that it should be for me as well.

I am beginning to see that. Fully understanding that this might be a delusion that is trying to take root in my core.

Whether it is or isn’t is not something left to me to decide. Some future version of myself will deal with that when I and the coming versions of myself process this through to the end and find a conclusion.

For the time being, though. This train of thought suits my needs.

I feel like the past few months have ground me down. Eaten away at me and forced me to relive a weakness I had long forgotten I was capable of.

My pain; whether physical, mental or emotional, has forced me to realise a strength unique to my circumstances. The strength that we each find to make it through the day that is known only to us. As is the cost that we each pay to achieve that.

Weakness has its value too. It all does. Or rather, it all can. If you are mad enough. And thankfully. I have that in spades.

We keep repeating this ad nauseam. The terminology and the thing. It was in my worst moments that I learned the most. It is becoming a mantra of sorts. A reminder to take that pain and turn it in on itself. Render it inside out to be studied and learned from.

After a lifetime of accumulating trauma and pain. I almost feel like I should be thankful to someone. To everyone. To myself. To no one.

And in any case. The way things have played out it feels like if things don’t happen in the most painful and difficult way it isn’t even worth it. A favourable outcome when hard earned is a valuable one indeed.

There has been an internal shift of footing. From a defensive stance to being on the attack.

Like I am utilizing bits and pieces from the various parts of myself. Cobbling them together to achieve a higher understanding. A more cohesive sense of self.

I feel still at times. Calm. I didn’t recognize it at first. It isn’t something that has ever been a feature in my life. Viewed through my eyes life was one long fever dream. One that I occasionally and with increasing frequency wake up from.

In those glorious moments of what can only be described as sublimely substantial serenity I still feel the pain of my body. The broken bits. The ringing in my ears that feels like it is vibrating my fucking skull. But what I don’t feel is the feeling of static in my head. The load of broken glass in my gut. The twitchy nervousness.

It feels like I can, for a little while, bask in the warm glow and heat of my inferno like rage rather than fight the flames.

I am grateful for knowing that.

The two main things I have always sought after were understanding and freedom, even momentary, from the mental backlash I face constantly. And I have those things. Even if I lose every earthly possession I am privileged enough to have, in my mind I will still be wealthy beyond comprehension.

It’s good to experience the pain. To express the frustration with it. But I should be mindful to notice the good things too. Especially considering the circumstance.

The good things now don’t erase the past. They enhance the now. The past will still be there though. Still silently seeking the attention I choose to give it.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring or what version of me it will bring with it.

I am excited to find out, though.

Excited feels wrong. Disingenuous. Inaccurate. Eager. That fits better.

In any case. It’s 6am and I have no better way to close this.

So bye.

Till the next time.



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