Usually on Facebook I try to remain a positive force or just an anonymous individual who posts about weird strange and cool stuff. I try to be positive and spread love, kindness, joy, whatever I can because I would rather be posting about that than my personal problems for the world to see.
But today…ugh. Today I don’t know why of all days today I posted something very vague.
“Dear emotions. Can you not? Thanks.”
I never do this to try to get attention. No. It’s a way for me to ease it out of my system so i can write about it later. And if people are curious then they can ask me about it and i’ll fill them in.
But for me…one picture, a stupid fucking picture was enough to send me into an emotional overdrive to where I just want to sob my eyes out. Why? How is it that one picture can set a person off into some emotion?
Well, in a way we are all guns. and we all have a trigger. Now usually were not cocked loaded and ready to go, the safety is usually on (I literally know next to nothing about weaponry so please bear with me while I make the general metaphor). But there are some days where that safety is clicked off and there is a finger resting on our trigger. Here is the fun part…sometimes we don’t even know it until we’ve gone off.
This is what people like to label as ‘triggered’.
It was the release to my emotions. Once that finger squeezed my trigger, all bets were off and the floodgates opened, pouring down my face and practically making me look more sick and exhausted than I already am. (I’m not sick. just exhausted.)
A single picture. Triggered me enough to feel rotten, undesirable, worthless, useless, and unwanted. It’s making the barrier I’ve slowly been letting down start to build up again because I don’t want someone to actually SAY that I am any of those things. Or to reject me again. Rejection only hardens us more to the world.
And I don’t want to have that hard tough shell around me. I want to feel more, love harder, and be all around more sensitive to people. But its so hard when I’ve built such a cast iron shell around myself to preserve my sanity. It’s a defense mechanism. One that has made me a pretty fucked up human and one that I need to destroy…
I’m trying. I’m working on it. Some days are better than others. It all depends on my confidence level, and my levels of insecurities.
I’m working on those too.
~ The Brooding Dragon