Am I Supposed to Be Here?

This blog is mostly "hidden" so I feel very safe here. I can literally pour out the entire pot of bad coffee that is my thoughts and leave it here for some internet dog to lap off the floor.
----------
I'm actually going to write several posts today and just put them up at random times because I'm feeling a lot of things right now and I've already written them in my journal so now I'm going to put them on the internet in hopes someone will stumble across this archaic form of media, and find comfort and support in it.
I have been on 13 different planes on in the past 4 months, I cant remember if I've said that yet, I haven't been anywhere for longer than two weeks all summer long. I haven't had a "home."
Now I will always have a true home. I'm a Georgia girl born and bread and I always will be. That's where my parents are, and even though my heart is scattered in pieces all over the world my soul sits in the suburban brick house with all my childhood memories.


I feel like I'm in a cage. Like everything I am and want to be has been locked up; I can't express everything I want to because I am surrounded by people who do not understand. There's nothing wrong with them, truly, but our interests are opposite and we're both lost in the conversations we so desperately want to be engaged in.
We laugh politely and smile and nod, but I don't follow the flow of the words and the movement of the mouths. So I sit and listen as best I can and hope they will return the favor.


My passion is boxed up and it's busting through every crack that appears but only for a moment before someone tapes it back and whispers, "wait. not yet."
The only times so far that I've felt truly included are with one friend (that's not to say my other friends suck lets just be clear) who understand the struggles I face and so it's been a joint understanding of being inclusive and accommodating to one another, and also at an event that was very, incredibly inclusive. I don't know if I'm supposed to be here, in LA, but I know that I am here and I need to make the best of time. I may just be writing or listening to podcasts or faking understanding until I find that fit, but I'll do it 'till I can't and then I'll do something else.

Truly,
Abby


https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=BBMQ7XEP6MV6W

Comments

  1. PaulSeptember 16, 2016 at 7:52 PM

    I like listening to you and including you. And now I like your writing, too!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

what happens when the fight doesn't stop

Image
everyone knows that when people talk about "the fight" it's usually in reference to some sort of long or short-term battle. that battle could be any number of things, the flu, cancer, a breakup, a surgery, a tumor, you get the idea. this "fight" is something an individual goes through knowing that they will (hopefully) come out the other end of. they will beat it, win the fight, and move on. but what happens when the fight doesn't stop? it's so hard to put into words what a chronic illness is like which makes it even harder to explain to people who have never heard of such things especially since i tend to be rather jovial when explaining what my chronic illnesses are and what they do to me. my desire to make sure people aren't uncomfortable ends up masking how serious these illnesses are and therefore give those people an inaccurate idea of what i'm going through. so, let me lay it out for you plain and simple. i have a degenerative c
Keep reading

Diff-Abled

Image
“I choose not to place "DIS", in my ability.” ― Robert M. Hensel ----------- Do you know how strange it is to technically be disabled by the age of 18?   I have no idea how many of you are familiar with my story. I had chronic migraines for almost three years. I should probably say migraine. One word. I had one migraine for almost a year; it put me in and out of the hospital and I missed almost two full months of school. It was all over the place and never really diagnosed, to be honest half of the doctors thought I was lying. I had MRI's, X-rays, Ultra sounds and am now a pro at ER etiquette. When you're a sick child/teenager with an illness that isn't terminal most of the time you just get left out. I'm not saying the doctors don't try, but you become graffiti in their life. Your symptoms fill a room that is supposed to turn into a beautiful painting of your condition, but more often than not it becomes a mess of pictures,
Keep reading

Are You Happy?

Image
"On a scale of 1-0 are you happy?" - Bo Burnham --------------------------------------------------------- Happiness is one of those terms that doesn't really having a true meaning. People have depression, people have other mental conditions, people have good days and bad days. Happiness is a relative term. Something closer to euphoric (I've been pretty partial to that word lately) and cheery would be better. That being said I'm going to talk about being happy anyway and use that word regardless. I just wanted to clear things up with the word and the connotations that follow it. Happiness, my dear friends, is quite a lovely thing because you can posses it even if you're having a crummy day. I meet new people every day and always get the question "how are you." It's common courtesy to ask that, but instead of answering with "good" or "fine," I've been answering with "happy." I am in a rut. I
Keep reading