Breakdown and breakthrough

It doesn’t matter how much I distract myself or keeping myself busy. It's always going to break through sooner than later. The breakdown. The breakthrough. As soon as I slow down I feel my eros. It's beautiful and delicious. I have had countless orgasms these days. And then the deeper layers are exposed. Demands to be felt. The grief. The anger. The loneliness. The real breakdown that leaves me exposed. Feel everything. No distraction or orgasms can stop the deep transformation of falling apart. For real this time. I can almost literally feel how it's falling apart on the inside. Every mechanism, pattern and strategy. Falling like a hous of cards. Collapsing. What I have subtle felt is now a full breakdown. And breakthrough. I feel it both. I'm not depressed. Just extremely vulnerable and raw. My whole persona is under deconstruction. The last three years has been a long unbecoming. All the dens and overdeveloped sides of me. It all have to go. To transform. Who am I when I'm speaking my truth? When I say no. When I'm not easy and positive? When I stand up for myself and refuse to do the things that exhausted me? When others have to be uncomfortable with my reality. When I don't back down and smooth things over. When I'm difficult and not polite.

I'm not an ass. Or I don't think so. I still understand the concept of compassion. But by just being way more honest about my own wounds, sensitivities and boundaries, I do upset the world. And liberate them at the same time. Yes people in general are shocked of my very real pain and my long story with depression. Like, really? You? You are always happy and positive. Wow, we didn't know. And now they do.

It's intense to walk the world and to be more seen. It's terrifying to be seen as I am. More fully and real. In my vulnerable mess. Not being able to hold it together. To break down and cry while people are around. I feel mentally ill. Out of control. And I do remember the whispers from my childhood. About my mum and my aunt. The eye rolls about their mental state of mind. Out of control. Making the family uncomfortable . The pretending of not noticing. The cover ups. The stigma.

I do feel crazy. I do feel slightly ashamed. Yet parts of me are quite stern in this. Com on girl. You have been through a lot. It's normal and healthy to be stripped down in grief and sorrow.

Yet again, I'm grateful for my friends. And I desperately longs for a warm body. To be held. Skin on skin. To breath. To make love. To cry and release. And I know deep down that this time around it's not possible to distract myself anymore. Nowhere to go or hide. Sex isn't available as an escape. I'm stripped. Everything has to be felt. So I allow it. The ache. The pain. And there is no holding back. Feel it all.

It's super intense and I don't know how to navigate. Other than staying in it. To breath and trust.