Just thought I'd post a blog that was a little less depressing. I have recently been doing a bit of self reflection and talking to some of those near and dear to me about some of the issues I've been going through, and I've come to a conclusion.
I've somehow lost my voice, my power, in essence, myself.
I'll get back to that in a moment, first let me get to how I came to this conclusion.
It had started a few weeks ago. I started feeling "twitchy". Restless. Like something was beginning to stir beneath my skin. Almost like something was waking up from a very long and deep sleep. I needed to do something with this energy, this urge to go out and make change. So I re-pierced my belly button(professionally), and re-pierced and gauged my earlobes (not professionally). It hadn't dawned on me at the time, but my vision started to clear a little. I realised I couldn't keep all this crap, all these thoughts and feelings and urges trapped inside any more. I wasn't dealing with it properly, and I knew that if I didn't get a grip and learn a better way to handle being me, well, something bad was going to happen and I couldn't stand the thought of THAT.
Since that little revelation, I've started trying to fix the issue. I don't really feel comfortable enough to just lay it all out on the table in black and white yet, but maybe eventually. I will just say that I am eternally grateful for some of the amazing people I have in my life. Sometimes, when you are so lost in your own drama, you forget all of the wonderful things, and people, you actually have in your life.
And that brings us back to my discovery.
I was at my little sister's house, helping her wash dishes while talking to her about what was going on. The conversation started out much like other conversations I had been having with some of my other loved ones, so I wasn't really expecting the revelation to hit me so hard talking to her. She reminded me of how I used to be. I wasn't perfect by any means, I mean, I still had moments where I felt milliseconds from just disintegrating, but they were fewer and were a hell of a lot more infrequent. I used to have a spine. I wouldn't take shit from anyone. I used to find JOY and POWER in having my green skin. I was different, and yes, that meant I was lonely at times, but I used to have pride in being myself.
When did I lose this? I honestly wish I knew. The more I think about it, the fuzzier it all gets. I think it was a gradual transition. I don't think it just happened over night. I threw away my crazy contacts, because I was just too lazy to keep up with them. I stopped dying my hair, because it was just too much work. I let my piercings close, and all but stopped wearing jewelry at all, blaming an allergy that honestly only flares up every so often and that could easily be taken care of. I stopped wearing make up because, well why would I? I stopped doing everything else that made me comfortable in this strangely proportioned meat sack I've been sentenced to live in for roughly 75 to 80 years. Why would I keep doing that?
I had somehow let the outside world, the fair to dark complexioned masses, teach me shame for my vertigris. I had beat myself down to better fit into what society may better accept. I had allowed myself to grow weak, another sheep in the field. The problem with this of course is that I was never meant to be a sheep. I was a fox in sheep's clothing.
So I am resurrecting myself piece by piece. A few more piercings here and there. A pair of contacts that make me look like I have "anime eyes". Oh and my hair is now bright purple.
I'm a green skinned beauty. An unchained fox. A creature of Light and Shadow.
And I'm not going to let anything or anyone, including myself, make me forget this again.