acommonblackbird (@acommonblackbird.bsky.social)

acommonblackbird (@acommonblackbird) all heart my heart hurts. i sobbed this morning. i enjoyed a rare rich connection during a zoom breakout room, a shared lived experience with addiction while completely ignoring the assignment. after the training ended, i fully sobbed. seemingly for no reason at all. i don't write often about the darkness. i prefer to share the silver linings or glimmers, to help raise us all up, point to where the light creaks through the cracks. but the cracks keep getting smaller, and fewer. and i'm tired. my heart hurts. i can't tell which of the horrors past or present it comes from. the anguish so ripe you can feel in the air even when you're not doomscrolling (or hopequesting). or if it's something to do with the test results i'll be getting next week. yknow, a ‘real’ medical issue, not that pretend stuff going on in my head. you know it's not good news when the Doctor calls you in instead of sending you a text. with luck, years of inconclusive tests will finally point to a step forward. even if that's toward death. at least i'd know. and i'm tired. my heart hurts. i've spent my life with suicidal ideation lurking on the peripheries. it's been looming larger over the last decade, tho i think its peak has passed. which sucks, because now i care about living. i might be far from the life i want, but what i have now is worth fighting for. every life is worth fighting for. and damn, i've fought far too hard to get this far with this one. don't take the fucker from me now. i'm not done yet. why is life a fight to begin with? that's not how this is supposed to go. my heart hurts. is it the angina left to me by my beloved grandfather? or is it my newlyfound somatic speakers? protector parts yet to trust me, while i'm too scared of their intensity (or too damn furious with their tactics) to want to love them enough to hear them out and release them. there are reasons they exist. there are reasons i've fought them off this long. there's one reason to end this dance: it's time. i know the work is to sit with them. i know because it's worked elsewhere, with other wounded children. but these ones hurt. and my heart can't take any more hurt. and i'm tired. my heart hurts. i'm back in that place where the stories have taken hold. where the critics and saboteurs own the terrain. they've been doing their jobs decades longer than i've been questioning their dominance. they leak through, then flood. you're left to swim back up through the rip, claw yourself back up the rocks. until next time. i wonder if it'd hurt less if i wasn't alone. the dangling carrot, the catch22, the holiest of stories. you can't let people in when you're not good enough for this world. you can't get good enough for this world because you can't escape the floods. you wouldn't be drowning if you were better. and none of them are to be trusted anyway. i'm not worthy of love, because i won't let myself be worthy of love. even that's my fault. and i'm tired. my heart hurts. and the wars keep warring, and the dinosaurs keep squabbling over fossils and gold. and the humans keep on fighting and dying and fighting and dying and dying and dying and dying. and all i can focus on, is that my heart hurts, and i'm tired. https://substack.com/@acommonblackbird/note/c-241445233?r=86d97s