Vulnerability

What do you do when the anxiety you have for no known reason fills your stomach up to your neck up to your head with an unbearable weight which weighs you down with the sensation of sloth, an inability to move or act and all you can do is just sit there and stare? All you can think about is how anxious you are because that is all you can feel, a mad cycle attached with immense difficulty to escape. Surveillance is a substantial way to be brought out of this. When one is being watched, especially by a superior or boss, one must at least act like they are busy or getting work done. When one is around equals, there is a “fitting in” aspect, a joining of a conversation or activity. Both of these can usually get yourself out of your head full of maddening anxiety. Right now I am sitting at a desk writing about it, which probably looks like I’m working to the naked eye of a passerby. But sometimes writing about it exacerbates the anxiety because you are focusing your mind more in on it, the problem at hand. Yet it does help the understanding of it a little more. “Know thyself.”

Vulnerability scares me. I’m afraid to show people my words. I’m afraid of what they think. Have I put myself on too high of a pedestal? What if I’m not up to par? My words are my vulnerability, a complete expression of me. Maybe I don’t want people to know me. Maybe I like to keep people at a safe distance- not necessarily to keep myself safe from them, but to keep them safe from me.

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Something

“Stream-of-consciousness writing a la Jack Kerouac is a meditation tool. Writing about regrets over the past or fears of the future, no.”

Feelings hypnotize unsatisfied ruler of my brain. Please don’t come down here there is really something wrong with my brain. Today, at least. Well, most days. Unconventional, unacceptable as “normal” let me apologize now before you decide to run away. Sometimes I wish I could run away, take a vacation and escape from the pounding confusion, lifting the fog that’s in my head. I used to be afraid to showcase these things, people wouldn’t understand. But still face to face I have to pretend that I belong in this world with these socially acceptable behaviors. I really have no idea what to do.

Plans

I was going to… “told” I was going to be a straight A student. I was going to go to college, graduate, and have an excellent, fulfilling and good paying career. I was going to find a nice, young, good looking christian man, my prince to marry and lose my virginity to and have babies. I was going to be a fashion designer, I was going to be an Olympic Ice Skater. I was going to be a famous author. I was going to travel the world, be fluent in Spanish, and backpack around Europe. I was going to space. I was going to be a violinist. I was going to be in a band. I was going to change the world. I was going to live the American Dream. I was told I could do anything I put my mind to, that I would just have to believe it, and it would just somehow ‘happen.’ Out of no where. I don’t know, maybe that’s why I never went anywhere, because I just waited for things to happen magically without actually doing. What did I expect it to be? I. Love. D. I don’t know what I expected it to be. It just happened so fast. A feeling I’d never felt before. Maybe I expected more, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t be forever. I did expect it to last longer than it did. But in hindsight, I’m glad it didn’t.
But I didn’t… I didn’t plan for him to find another girl so fast. I didn’t plan on him breaking my heart in half. I didn’t plan on dropping out of college through this. And turning to chemicals to numb myself and be able to fall asleep. I didn’t plan on moving out of my best friends’s. I didn’t plan on getting so emotionally involved that I couldn’t think about anything else, do anything else. It still takes up a lot of my ind, 2 years later, almost like an obsession. Especially with what I’m going through currently. I wish it didn’t happen at all sometimes. That I never met him. That my mom didn’t take me to that party that night. I didn’t plan on falling in love with him, to let my whole being, revolve around him. For him to end up fucking her. Marrying her. Having twins with her. Leaving me in the dust. It makes me sick writing about it. I literally vomited the first time he told me about it. I knew something was up, too. And I was all the way in Fort Collins, at my cousin’s house whom  I barely knew because I “had” to move out of my place. It made me physically ill. Shaking uncontrollably. Why did I still talk to him? I didn’t plan on still being attached to him.

No Longer

Do you think you can hurt me still? I’m not going to let you. Do you think I’m going to continue to let this shit phase me? Well I’m not. Maybe the old me would, but I don’t give two shits about what they say behind my back. What you say behind my back. You think your ignoring me scares me? That playing games with my head is okay? That’s fine, keep going, it will only make me stronger in the end. I have already accepted what I should have realized long before… this meant nothing to you. I was safe to you, your security blanket. Maybe you stayed with me this long out of obligation. You see, that doesn’t work for me. Your deception and manipulation can no longer be a tool against me, I will not be brought down to your level now or ever. I deserve to be someone’s everything. I deserve honesty, not humiliation. I will have fire and passion, and love that’s returned, equally. I will be someone’s heart, even if that means breaking my own. Don’t worry, I won’t call you, I won’t fall for your mind tricks any more. I won’t be the first to break this time. I didn’t want this. I wanted us to be okay, to be mutual, to be civil. Especially with the close proximity we must be around each other. I tried, probably too hard, to make it right, so don’t get all butt hurt when it doesn’t work out your way.  The last time we spoke, you said we’d be friends. We’d be happy for each other and supportive as well. The next day, you act like I have a bug on my face. You heard things about me, and changed your mind I suppose. Yeah this hurt for a bit, knowing that someone who called me their soul mate could be as cold as this, but I think I’m getting used to it by now. No longer will I let you hurt me, no longer will I let you rent space for free in my head. I am detaching myself emotionally, letting myself move on, can’t think about the past, only about a future of bettering myself. Maybe I owe you a thanks for showing me how. How to let go, how to move on, and the need to love myself first. I hope you do the same, I don’t wish ill upon you, even though I think I deserve to have hatred towards you. You see, I didn’t grow up that way. Maybe I should have grown thicker skin earlier, but where I come from you don’t treat people you say ‘I love you’ with such malice and disgrace. Sometimes it makes me sick just thinking about it, how I fell for it all over again. But this time will be different, this time I won’t budge and go back with false hopes to have my heart hammered bloody all over again.

Dear God…

Someone asked me… Write down a question that you would ask God if you could. And write about it for 5 minutes.

Why did you make humans? What was your purpose?

I’ve heard many theories on the meaning of life, or our purpose I guess. I think for you it’s to Glorify you, help others, and walk in your path… But is that really the meaning? Why did you create us- These beings that can cause so much hurt and hate and evil… But also good. Were you bored? Did you do it simply to see if you could? Were you lonely? Did you need someone to talk to, relate to, to philosophize with? Why did you make this life so hard for humans though? So much of life is struggles and pain and suffering- some ask if it’s even worth it. You could’ve made a perfect earth. But that would probably be boring too. You make us go through pain, anxiety, and suffering so we know how to get through the tough things the next time they happen- so we can grow- so we know what happiness truly means. Are you proud of the race you created? Or do humans just make you cry? Is this what you expected out of us? Out of me? Have I let you down or do I make you smile?

The Rehab Means Something to Me.

The rehab means something to me. It’s a place. It’s a metaphor. It’s a turning point. It represents the point between two lines in my life that are vastly different. But I’m the same me, the same Jordan. The first line includes childhood. School. Happiness. But then destruction. The destruction led to Events and Addictions that couldn’t be turned around without drastic measures. There were many attempts. Many hopes. But many failures. The failures soon led to Hopelessness and Misery. Until rehab became the only salvageable option. The image of my grandmother keeps coming to mind. She was one of my hopes and inspirations of turning my life around. All she wanted for me was happiness, which meant sobriety and a relationship with God. So, rehab. The point that changed my life around. Made me able to stop the Destruction, especially the Self Destruction. Gave me back my hope and courage. Led me to where I am in my life now. On a Spiritual Journey, going through Personal Growth every day that I never knew could be imagineable. Now I couldn’t imagine it any other way. Hope, Faith, Courage. My Grandma must be looking down on me with tears of joy rolling down her rosy cheek, which makes me smile and tear up as well. I have so much potential. The world is at my hands and feet. I can do anything and everything as long as I can dream and imagine it then work my ass of for it. I am so blessed not only to be alive but to be well and happy and on my way to whatever I can dream of.