Someday you will ache like I ache

I’ve spent the majority of my grown-up life feeling spread too thin. When I close my eyes, I picture my limbs turning to rubber, stretching beyond reality, until I snap.

But, I’ve recently been cutting the wires, the bands, the tethers. I’ve been learning to build, to protect, to withdraw, to say no (and yes, when it fits).

Sewing all the pieces of me back together.

365 Days of Songs. Day Eight.
”Doll Parts” by Hole

“I am doll eyes, doll mouth, doll legs
I am doll arms, big veins, dog beg.”

Because the truth is, there will always be someplace, or some person, or something, that needs a part of me. I’m not a prisoner, forced to maintain a myriad of tasks and choices — I can say no, to stop, to rest, instead of making choices that have led me to utter exhaustion.

I’ve spent years taking on too much. I have trouble saying no, and my anxieties make it hard to focus some days, and nights, especially if I feel pulled apart, tug-of-warred, stretched until I break. When I’ve allowed that pull, I’ve worn myself to rags, to doll parts, until night falls and I fall into bed, the ache of the weight of not being enough keeping me restlessly awake.

The illusion of strength I exude, I’ve never known where it comes from, or what I look like when I’m reflecting it. Being perceived as strong is often so lonely. Very few consider that the strong need an arm and an ear, and some damn help sometimes.

My choices have created this fake resilience. My younger self, since childhood, equating love with service, with being needed; love as a transaction.

It’s hard to drop the security walls of taking care of everyone else to let someone in. It is hard to trust that if I am the one in need, I won’t be left out in the cold.

But I’m trying.

Currently, all posts for She Sends Her Regards are free and open to all. If you would like to support my work and writing, please feel free to buy me a coffee. It would be MUCH APPRECIATED.