When what we perceive as a luxury is actually a necessity.

I don’t fake social interactions, nor orgasms. I’ve had partners who’ve wished I’d be the kind of woman willing to do both, but the girl in me is relentless. I’m obvious.

Not so obvious in a still shot though.

My days have fluctuated scarily and steadily....

My vision is skewed, only seeing shadows of the people I love most rather than their light.

I’m feeling paralyzed and all I want to do is run.

I’ve been holding down a stable fort while feeling eerily unsteady and I’m mad about it.

I’m giving my energy to people I’m mad at for needing it. Then I’m mad at myself for not being giving enough, or for not just conjuring up more to give.

This is postpartum vibes, but what’s more true is, I’ve been here before, and I wasn’t always postpartum. Sometimes I was just run down, or confused, or trying too hard while failing miserably.

My body and heart always ended up paying a hefty cost for only using my head.

This mental landscape is, heart on sleeve style, very familiar to me. I watched my primary caregiver live a life from this frequency, and for a majority of my life I thought this is what it meant to be a person. I now know that there’s a gorgeous contrast to this dimension of experiencing, and I’m motivated to fill myself with it.

Today was the day I was supposed to be finished with a project I’m working on. This is the day, it would appear self sabotage has set in. It’s not done, and my sense of defeat makes me want to throw in the towel completely.

Today, I’ve done what I “had” to do, and laid in bed the rest of it.

I suspect some coaches, or some motivational friends would say, “Get up! You can face this project and crush it” and they’d be right, I “could,” but with a cost paid to my demons rather than my angels if I keep doing it “this” way.

They may say my taking the time to give my paralyzation what it wants, my sadness a listen, and my rage a say, is self sabotage, but at this point on my journey, it’s basic self care.

I’m wondering if, when people tell us we’re sabotaging (and sometimes we can be those people telling us) what they’re really saying is, “that thing you were in felt really off for you (entirely or, at the time), and you honored that it was off, and so you moved in the direction that turned you on,” when they really wished we’d have faked it longer.

I wish I could fake this, but I can’t.

When I’m pulled, I allow, but I’ve been trying to push, rather than be pulled, which is a no-go for my system. It breeds physical sickness, and it makes me resist the very thing I’m pushing. All that’s left of me is tension, and this is where my body’s at.

It’s the absolute craziest thing ever. It’s “bad” for business.

It’s a luxury I would’ve believed was only granted to the rich and famous. But, I’m going to put my project down for the foreseeable future and fill every second I would’ve used pushing my way through it, with self care until I’m “pulled” to do otherwise.

When what we perceive as a luxury is actually a necessity, collapse of some sort closely trails.