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walpurga-nacht-academy · 4 years

Note

🍊For the dorm leaders?

Thank you for the ask! ❤️ ❤️

🍊 What is your OC’s favourite meal? Snack? Dessert? Drink? Any reasons behind this besides liking how it tastes?

Marcia: Our favorite food, huh?

Rosalia: Hehe! Hehehehe!

Blanche:... What’s gotten into you now?

Rosalia: What a great opportunity to once and forever dispel any rumors surrounding my taste!

Blanche: Nobody was wondering about that-

Rosalia: You know! They always said that just because Cherry was always seen eating candy on the show, I must certainly like it as well. After all nobody could fake such a happy and satisfied expression when forced to eat something they dislike.

Marcia: Ah, now that you mention it, I remember Cherry always asking Uncle Apricot for candy when he visited.

Blanche: As I said before, nobody-

Rosalia: Exactly! And because filming would sometimes take a long time, I had to keep eating them even twelve times a day!

Marcia: Woah! That’s a lot of sugar. My old man would definitely scold me if I went overboard like that.

Rosalia: It was part of the role so I had to deal with it. But the worst part was when fans would send me bags of candy along with fanmail and I had to finish them before the next batch arrived. Even though I kept asking them many times not to send it anymore...

Blanche:... Rosalia.

Rosalia: Hm?

Blanche: This is something I noticed before, but... you’re the kind that’s stupidly honest, aren’t you?

Rosalia: HUH?! What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you picking a fight with me?!

Marcia: Now, now, don’t get all worked up! Let’s all get along!

Rosalia: Why are you including me in this, I didn’t-

June: Ugh!

Rosalia, Blanche and Marcia: ... S-Sorry, senpai.

June: ...

Blanche and Rosalia: ...

Marcia: A-Anyway... It’s kinda surprising you dislike candy, Rosa. Your acting skills are really something else if you managed to fake enjoying eating something you hate for so long! So what’s your actual favorite food?

Rosalia: Hehe! Well, this might surprise you but my tastes are more grown-up than people give me credit! My absolute favorite food is the legendary-taboo-for-all-children-super-adult rum cake! Cool, right?!

Blanche: ...

June: ...

Marcia: ... Y-Yeah, I guess...

Rosalia: ... Then why aren’t your expressions more appreciative of me?!

June: Ain’t anythin’ grown-up about that.

Rosalia: Huh?!

Blanche: Himalia-senpai is right. Rum cake, despite the name, isn’t inherently alcoholic since most it is cooked off.

Rosalia: B-But you can get drunk off it...

Blanche: Only if you consume it in large quantities. Otherwise it’s just a more flavourful dessert.

Rosalia:...

Marcia: Don’t mind. Don’t mind.

Rosalia: Don’t pat my back now! It just comes across as condescending.

Blanche: Seriously, that’s why kids like you...

Rosalia: HUH?! Then what about you? Let’s see what so grown-up about your tastes! So, tell us, what’s your favorite food?!

Blanche: Bitter chocolate.

Rosalia:...

Ugh! Why do I feel like I lost?!

Blanche: It wasn’t even a contest in the first place.

Marcia: Hahaha, it totally suits you though Blanche!

Blanche: Does it? Truth to be told, it’s the only strong flavour that I like, but I wasn’t allowed to have much of it growing up.

Marcia: Mm. I get it. Then I’ll be sure to gift you some during your birthday!

Blanche: ... I wouldn’t want to impose, but I appreciate the thought.

Rosalia: Hmp! Moving on~ How about you Marcia? I totally expect you to pick something nutritional and healthy.

Marcia: Haha, you’re not wrong! I’m crazy about sweet potatoes. Boiled, mashed, cooked in the oven - as long as it’s not fried, I’m good with any kind!

Rosalia: I knew it~

Marcia: Mm! But to tell you the truth, it has little to do with the nutritional value. I really like them because they bring back memories of me and the old man roasting some during autumn. It was a lot of fun even though it was mostly him doing the work. I hope that when he gets better we’ll be able to do it again together, all four of us.

Rosalia: That’s way too sad!

Marcia: Eh?

Rosalia: Aaah! Here I was complaining about people sending me candy when I didn’t even think about the feelings behind it! That was super childish!

Blanche: Indeed.

Rosalia: Ahh! Can’t you keep quiet?!

June: ... That could go for ya’ll. Makin’ a ruckus ev’ry single time... CAN’T YA THINK OF OTHERS ONCE IN A WHILE, HUH?! DAMN IT!

Rosalia, Blanche and Marcia: Crap! We got Himalia-senpai angry!

June: First of all, food is food! Dontcha complain when yer table is full of all sorts of stuff! Ain’t matter if ya’ll like it or not! People worked hard to put it on yer table! So just shut up and eat it!

Rosalia, Blanche and Marcia: U-Understood, ma’am.

June: Huh?! What was that?! Say it louder!

Rosalia, Blanche and Marcia: Understood, ma’am!

June: That’s right! Now scram and make sure to do ya’ll work! Or ya’ll be in trouble when I come checkin’ in. GOT IT?

Rosalia, Blanche and Marcia: YES, MA’AM!

How did it turn out like this?!

Extra: June’s favorite food is apple pie because it’s an easy dessert to make and quite filling. Though whenever she makes it at home she often has to fend off her nieces and nephews if she wants to have a slice for herself.

Diana: Meat.

Agatha: Hehe... land animals... really are simple...

Vita: Now, Agatha. I would say that Diana’s straightforwardness is to be expected by now.

Cassandra: Yes. It is just like Miss Arrow to be so honest.

Diana: ... It’s my true answer. In the savana besides swiftness, you also need strength. Meat helps build up muscle mass and is full of vitamins such as B12, B3, B6. It also contains carnosine which has anti-glycosylation-

Agatha: Ugh... so much... noise...

Diana: ...

Cassandra: A-Amazing! I have never heard Miss Arrow speak at such length. She truly does get passionate about her favorite topics.

Diana:...

Vita: Hm? Have you perhaps been overtaken by shyness, lioness? How charming.

Diana: ...

Cassandra.

Cassandra: Eh?

Diana: ...

I heard fairies like sugar.

Cassandra: E-Eh? Well, that’s more of a stereotype I would say than actual fact, but... um, I’m only half so maybe it’s true after all...

Diana: ...

Cassandra: Sorry... I’m not really sure of fairies’ true nature... um...

Vita: ‘Tis alright. The lioness was merely curious.

Diana: Mm.

Cassandra: Haha, I see. Sorry for making assumptions.

Um, to tell the truth, I’m actually quite fond of Mazarin myself.

Vita: Hm? Ah, I remember. It is a sort of almond tart, is it not?

Cassandra: Yes! It is quite tasty and easy to bake too!

My grandmother taught me how to make it when I was a child. It’s our special treat for when we wanted to make each other smile. Even now when I smell the aroma I am reminded of those afternoons spent in the kitchen together.

Agatha: ... annoying...

Cassandra: Sorry, that must have been really boring to hear. Um, what about you, Miss Voisin?

Agatha: ...

Cassandra: ...

Agatha: .................................................

Cassandra: ... Um....

Agatha: ............................................

Big Sis.

Vita: My, it seems my dear little Agatha doesn’t want to give a response. She gets uncharacteristically shy when other’s gaze is turned upon her. Oh well, then I shall take over.

I myself am quite partial to pomegranates. They have quite a peculiar taste that I haven’t really noticed in any other food. ‘Tis truly a marvelous experience.

Diana: They’re too sour.

Cassandra: I’m not especially fond of them myself, um...

Vita: A shame, alas.

My mother and sisters are of the same mind. They seem to find it abhorrent. ‘Tis only Grandfather who shares my opinion. Though, I do suspect ‘tis because it ease the pain in his joints. So as you can see, ‘tis a most versatile fruit.

Agatha: Pomegranates... are tasty...

Vita: Oh? How refreshing. I commend your good taste.

Agatha: ... Hehe.

Vita: My, how cute! It really suits you when you smile like that, Agatha, dear!

Diana and Cassandra: ...

Diana: Even though she says that-

Cassandra: -Isn’t it usual for Miss Voisin to smile, anyway?

Extra: Agatha’s favorite food is shrimp, but because it’s the usual prey for her fish species she doesn’t like to mention it. She can eat them raw and without cracking them open given her metabolism, but so far only Vita has seen her eating habits.

For Drinks: Rosa, Diana, Agatha and Marcia stick to water (sometimes with a wedge of lemon), June likes lemonade, Blanche and Cassandra like tea, while Vita prefers coffee and energy drinks.

Diana is the only one who snacks a lot, because she burns off the calories very easily and thus is always hungry. The others prefer either healthy options (Blanche, Rosa, Marcia) or sweet stuff (Cassandra) or something spicy or unusual (June, Agatha, Vita).

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanschool #rosalia morgainne #blanche dion #marcia pyroeis #june himalia #diana arrow #cassandra delphinne #agatha voisin #vita dies #rosenhex #grimmaire #kriegskald #galdtrea #monarchia #oraluna #eliksia #noctasis #ask

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heartlinesonhands · 6 years

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showing up for my future self

I am back, there is no other choice. When will I learn that running away from here is never the right choice? It was too painful before, and maybe still is, but sometimes you’ve got to do the painful thing in order to heal the broken parts.

I did my goddess tarot cards for the first time last night in.. years?. With tarot cards and psychics, crystals, stones, and all of that, I equally think it’s all bullshit made up meaning to pad us against the inevitable non existence that we will all experience, and on the other hand who knows... really anything could be possible. I think absoluteness and certainty is delusion, I also think that nothingness is senseless. We only really know just over 2000 years of human history, which isn’t a lot in the end. The rocks and water know so much more than any selfish human account of what is or was... Anyyyyway, without getting to etherial or flaky, the cards were a strange experience as it usually is. You pull one card to get general clarity to the situation at hand. 7 of swords card: she is trying to carry seven swords, only able to carry 5. As she looks over her shoulder she hopes the swords left behind will not be used against her: the ability to defend oneself in a difficult situation, need for caution and examination. Energy should not be placed in recriminations. Hm.

The past card: again 7 of swords. It sure does feel like the fallen swords have been used against me lately, right through the back to be exact. The present card: goddess of fertility, a new relationship which celebrates ones growth as a woman, creativity, fertility and abundance. Really? This doesn’t fit. Funny thing, I had this card in the future position but last minute I switched the two. Familiar, a lot of my decisions have been destructive to my future. The future card: the oppression - feeling overwhelmed, oppression by circumstances or emotions, the light has left your life and you are awaiting to be released from the darkness. Overall message card: The king swords. Wisdom and clarity to any situation, ability to show what is needed and what can be cut away. Ability to bring calm. So if interpret this session, I have been carrying more than I can bare. Dropping what could be used as weapons (swords), hoping they won’t be. They were. Paul used my female pain as a weapon, effectively which felt like a stab in the back. Then I did the past, present, future set. The seven of swords again, just to be clear. Dropped weapons, used against me. Oof. The initial layout made sense before I reversed the present and future cards. Sitting in the dark, overwhelmed, oppression/depression by circumstance. The light has certainly left my life. I don’t feel any light anymore. I feel completely in the darkness. The future will be fertility, abundance, creativity etc. Basically the opposite. But of course, as I do, I switched them, last minute. Reflective of many circumstances, including my last relationship. Overall message is needing clarity, wisdom, calm. I hear that. I’m trying. I can’t have more of this as my future. I can’t.

I started Wellbutrin 2 Sundays ago. I feel no different. I still cry multiple times everyday. I feel hopeless, no sense of purpose, and tired, irritable and think about death every day. Throughout the day I get hit by the waves of being trapped in this joyless, painful existence. I kick box 2x a week now. I go to the gym 1-2 times a week. I go for a walk every day with Shyla. I take Zoplicone to sleep. I do yoga in the morning, drink green tea, do crafts, listen to music, spend time in nature. I take multivitamins, 5HTP, probiotics, omega’s Vit. D, B12, Magnesium, diffuse lavender and clementine etc. I have a night time and morning ritual. I reach out to friends. I am doing the things, but here I am, fucking miserable.

I’ve been avoiding this place for so long now, so much has changed and passed me by. I’m really starting to see that in the hardest parts, I avoid writing. Writing brings out a type of distilled truth in myself that sometimes just feels too painful to name. Avoidance has never been my style, so I really need to write when I’m suffering. Write it out. I’m just going to spit it out, like a bad puke. Here we go. Dad had a massive heart attack. Dad almost died. I almost lost my Dad. One day I’m going to lose my Dad. I’m scared of death. I’m scared of loss. I’m scared to die. I miss Grandma all the time. I didn’t tell her I loved her enough, I didn’t call enough. I miss Grandpa. I don’t tell Dad I love him enough, I never did enough. The surgery should have taken 4 hours they said, it was 7. The sun shone brightly that day, I’ll never forget that. How strange it was that my Dads life was hanging in the hands of a complete stranger and the sun was shining? We were one of the last families in the waiting room. Mom, Jeff and I. Fractured relationships, all waiting, needing Dad to be okay. It was complicated, it was harder than she thought. Dr. Ozounian, the woman who saved my Dad came out after 7 hours to tell us he’s okay, still open heart but okay. I heard what she didn’t say: It was going to be a difficult recovery, it was bad, but he’s alive. I watched Dad sit in fear leading up to the surgery, I held his hand and he leaned into me as they put arterial lines, IV lines in his body. I was the first to run to him out of surgery and whispered to his subconscious, “you did it Dad, it’s over.” I was there when they took the breathing tube out, locking eyes with him, telling him its okay. I was there and held his hand as they pulled out his chest tubes, central line, IV’s, I sat with his sobs, held his hand, walked him through the other side of his fear, came back every morning before the sun as he woke up just so he wouldn’t be alone. I was walking steps ahead of him urging him on as we walked around the ICU, I walked beside him the whole way and was there at his side as he took his first steps back home. I watched Dad’s eyes become lost, his confusion and a new softness settle in, and lack of certainty that wasn’t there before. I don’t know if I’ll ever get my Dad back as he was. I reached back when he reached for me. Thats all I can say about that for now, it hurts too much. I watched Mom disintegrate, disappear and cry and be the woman she has been for most of my life, a wounded and broken one. She couldn’t be a mother to me, but why would I expect differently now? “You’re a nurse, I’m not a nurse, I don’t know these things.” “It’s easy for you, I don’t see this stuff everyday.” “He’s MY husband!”. I needed my own partner to hold me up so I could hold Dad. Of course I could do it by myself, I’ve lived a lifetime of doing it by myself but I wanted a partner in this. I wanted comfort, togetherness, my team. I have felt undeserving of this, I have felt like this wouldn’t come to me as it does to others. I know I had the women in my life waiting on the sidelines, wanting to help me however they could, but I wanted a partner for once, I wanted what everyone else seems to get naturally, a team mate. I put that need on Paul. Paul’s gone now. I was falling in love with Paul. I let myself imagine what could be. My relationship with him came in the way spring comes after a long winter. The thaw, to cold, to warm again then gradually got warmer until before you know it, everything is green and blooming. Being held by him felt like summer on the skin. I met him in June, we just ended in October or maybe now? The ending, like the beginning, wasn’t one day or particular moment, but a fade. Like the seasons. It ended in transition to winter, shrivel, dry, achy, a coldness set in that has never left. The months before Paul had been so painful and heavy that he had felt refreshing and hopeful, feelings I had longed for. After leaving Dave, losing Grandma, then leaving BC then losing Grandpa... a little lightness was welcomed. Now he is gone and all of what went with it.

I’ve never fit better in anyone else’s body before. Or maybe I have, but just don’t remember. I certainly have never had anyone so responsive to my body in sleep. As I adjusted, so did he, as I turned, he followed. I loved that. He was tall, pretty and thin, big kind eyes and large hollow hands, delicate in a way that I’ve never been drawn to before. My gut initially said no. I need to remember that. I wasn’t attracted to him, but at the bike shop I handed him my number anyway, there was something there. That morning, there had been a feeling within myself that I was open to a relationship, that maybe the person at this bike shop was going to have some connection to me. I passed the thought as one does, but part of me knew it with Paul before it even began. He came on very strong, confessing his feelings for me, not reading my body language or energy after having spent an afternoon in the forest and lakes. I felt an intuitive push against him, I felt like I needed to keep my spirituality and my “clairvoyance” as he called it, private to myself. A withdrawing happened for me. I didn’t like the way he drove, I didn’t like his music. I didn’t like his ideas of religion. I didn’t like his musty attic apartment or his psychedelic paintings on the wall. But something kept me there. Maybe it was some spiritual connection, maybe some past life thing, or maybe, simply, there was some attraction between us that I just haphazardly went for anyway soaking meaning where it doesn’t belong. It all could be equally true. We hung out a few times and as my friend Medina once said, people show us who they are at the very beginning, it’s just up to us to see it or not. He was picking up his “friend” Lori, who he called a “Shaman” to his ayahuasca “ceremonies” and spent time with me in between being her chauffeur to an appointment. It was awkward and unmindful, and on his terms and timeline right from the start. It was weird then, it’s weird now. When he talked about plant medicine and Lori, it felt like cultural appropriation, it felt like cult, it felt like blind lefty greenwashing bullshit to be honest.. A christian, he had a relationship with “Christ” after a lifetime of rejecting the church, when at the church one night he felt love and acceptance and what he calls the christ spirit say, you believe in everything else, why not me? He needed to pray every night even if hurt his new relationship, he needed to smoke tobacco for his nightly ceremony. He believed in “plant medicine” without knowing the names of the plants. He needed space, and time, and boundaries. He changed his vocabulary to “the mother = Christ”, “the warrior= Jesus” for me because he didn’t want to be harmful. I didn’t feel it or in his words, “I didn’t buy it”. He threw his cross he wore around his neck off the deck of my house and stopped wearing it when I told him it was a symbol of something painful... but found it a day or two later and took it home to keep safe. He was willing to make superficial changes but deep down theres a truth there that I can’t and couldn’t trust or connect with. I think that I would have never been able to. Paul fit enough boxes and brought something else that I wasn’t used to. He brought an openness, a willingness to change, to see different perspectives, to better himself, a calmness to my rage, a kindness to my anger/wounds. That, I thought was bigger than the issues. In fairness to him, it was. I tested him constantly, all the while telling him I was testing him. I tested him to see if when the worst case would happen, would he be brave enough and ready to be there? I didn’t know then what the worst case was, and I probably still don’t. I honestly think what the religious, prayer, plants, shaman stuff has done is create a deep seeded mistrust. I think if those things weren’t there, if I’m being completely honest, I would fight for this relationship in a different way. I think the same way his brain thinks to rationalize those “spiritual/christ” aspects of himself, rationalizes what happened between us to make us fall apart. It’s a lack of logic, it’s a narrow mindedness that I reject. In the end it was simple. I was clinging to him after Dad got home from the hospital with a need that he had been craving from me the whole time. He wanted me to want him back since the beginning. I finally did. We were constantly communicating, getting closer by the hour and then he sent me photo of a party at his bike shop. Porn on the walls. His buddies put it up in the summer. I think that was it for me. Sound simple enough out loud but to not see it, not see/feel the hurt in me and my response and take it down, to ultimately not take my side when I needed it. I couldn’t see what the porn was, in the end it was women in submissive postures with large breasts in a skimpy bathing suit. Not “hardcore” but all the same. I don’t want to have to fight those fights in my relationship. I want a partner and what it was and why it was so hurtful wasn’t really about the photos, but what it symbolized and represented in this relationship that I was slowly committing my future to. He disappeared when I told him to have fun with his bros and that I needed space, saying he did exactly what I asked him to. Male defensiveness. No love, no kindness no being a team mate less than 48 hours after Dad got home from the hospital. I was maxed out. My grandparents ashes on the table and my Dad blank and tired in Grandpas old chair. The pain was unbearable, and Paul found it too much a grey zone to take down the porn and choose me and show me that he is showing up to this relationship. I think it broke then, in that moment. He blames me for saying the words the following day, that, “it cost him a relationship with me.” Anger, resentment, etc. coming from him, and maybe it’s fair in some ways but ultimately he broke the trust in which our relationship was built on. I need someone who can see the big picture. From the start I talked to him about porn and how it’s a firm line, because of the pain it has brought me and brings most women. The next day after the porn thing he disappeared all day, he didn’t tell me but it was his dads 15th death anniversary and the day he was going to talk to Sada, his ex. The one he now frames was, “like a divorce.” By midnight that night he finally messaged back saying he is not in a place to talk. I demanded he show up. He didn’t really. He stayed on the phone via text, then phone but only sort of. The next day he flooded in the guilt about Sada and his Dad. 2 days too late he’s trying to explain his taking care of himself because of his own pain of his unresolved issues. There could have been space for that, in fact there was a lot of space for that, but not used as a weapon in a fight. That is emotional manipulation, simply put. Had he shown up that night and taken the porn down, or called me, or been at all the partner I deserve then the rest would not have happened. The hours passed like days for me then. He wasn’t brave enough to show up at the airport, he disappeared the night I got back, unreachable by phone, camping in the rain with his church friends. church. When he finally came over he was a completely different person than I had seen. Cold, stubborn eyes. Shadowed, long, skinny body. Hardness. A few days later he called me to tell me he now has insight into the ways he was abusive to me, he says he withheld love and withheld communication. He couldn’t tell me why when I asked, he needed more time. Eventually days later, the why was because I made him feel badly about his style, about his finances.. he said he didn’t think I liked who he was just who I wanted him to be in the future. That is why he withheld love and communication. It felt a sobering, in a way, through the disorientation that the last few weeks had held. Though there are parts I didn’t like, the fashion and finances are two things I honestly didn’t really care about. The fashion, he asked specifically for my help, saying there was no ego involvement there, and genuinely wanted my opinion. He participated fully in the jokes of his dorky outfits and often did it himself. He does have bad style yes, did that make me love him less? No. In fact, the day of the porn I had spent my first real time away from my Dad buying different outfits for Paul for Christmas, how sad. His finances did upset me, only when it hindered him being able to show up for the person he loves in crisis, but otherwise... his own insecurities had seeded themselves and become a narrative that he truly believed. It felt the kind of religious delusional beliefs, without logic, lacking truth. I knew then that it was over. I thought the “why” to his abusive behaviour was going to be some big insight into the parts of me that I don’t like, which I’m still uncovering, but what he said...was certainly not it. I was falling in love with the kindness, the compassion, the “field” as he called himself. I fell in love with his willingness, his desire. Not this idea of what could be. That just wasn’t true. I saw for a second the clarity of his stuff that he had hidden so well in his talk of self work, celibacy, god, reading, prayer, openness, etc. This emotional baggage predates me and I saw that then. He felt rejected by my hand reaching for him because I had anger in my voice. He retreated from the very female anger that he said his god would support, understand and validate. The irony of it all is insane.

He came over once more after fighting all night on the phone. We slept for maybe 2 hours and then he had to get up to go to work. He left me for his job again. His jobs at the beginning (owning a back alley bicycle store and singing in a choir) were a positive to me, it would be the opposite of Dave. Paul chose these jobs for a quality of life rather than a necessity, as he framed it. I loved the idea of being able to be in control of our schedules and make plans and always do adventures together. But as the relationship went on I realized it’s the exact same shit as Dave only worse, Dave at least got huge chunks of time off in between, Paul was bound to these peter pan jobs but without making any money, building savings or having any real control. The last time I saw him was leaving my house as I scream cried the loneliest, cavernous, needing cry from my bed, on his way to work because he, “had deadlines”. I knew then it would be the last time. I needed him to say, fuck it, you’re more important. It’s just a bike shop in the end, I love you. I choose you. But instead he said he could come back later after work if thats something I wanted, that he was sorry but he had to go now and walked quickly and directly out of my bed, house, slamming the gate shut behind him and on our relationship. That was it. I wrote to him later, some stream of consciousness thing, he said day after day that he needs more time. Eventually I said I don’t want a reply. Always too late. There was a lack of urgency, a lack of priority that felt so personal. By the time he was ready for most things I needed from him, my heart was hardened. This was a trend.

Paul is soon to be 37, and I felt the rush of his age wear on me. I’m in my 20′s for christ sake! I’M not almost 40. Pauls age brought a pressure that I had with Dave and with Jean. The age gap is too great. I need to be present in my age, in my life. Just 28.

My Dad’s heart attack gave me an urgency for seriousness and a want for a family so that my Dad could share that with me, so I could get back what I almost lost in him. I wanted Paul to know at this point how/when to show up and to do that without being asked. How to take care, how to do the things that I had essentially trained him for. He couldn’t be that person, so maybe in the end he was right: I loved more of what I thought he was/could be rather than who he was.

I think we become who we are in our choices, actions and decisions, in the moment. In the end I think he didn’t have the capacity to love me. I think he wasn’t brave enough to show up for me. I think he wasn’t able to see past his blinders a lot of the time. I don’t feel like I could rely on him to take care of me when I couldn’t tell him how. I think my anxious attachment created reactivity and protectiveness, though understandable, it’s something I want to hold more lightly going forward. I feel broken by this last year. There are many more pieces to the story all like splinters a broken mirror reflecting back parts of myself that I can’t yet see or understand. I stumbled into 28, disoriented and afraid and I will do everything in my power to make that future oppression card not come true. I’m going to keep doing the things and work on letting go, I don’t need to win this break-up. I don’t need to have the last word, or the last hit. If nothing more I learned:

Inaction is action. Silence is loud. The only real apology is behaviour change. & Sometimes people can love you, but not give you love in the ways that you need. That’s it for now, but I’m promising to myself to come back, soon. I’m going to hold onto this: “If you only saw the size of the blessings coming, you would understand the magnitude of the battle you are fighting ” -Michele Jennae

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