Stuff has been tough. I suppose, if you put it in a different perspective, it hasn´t been bad at all. I have a home (address), and I live in a first world country, a country that provides for me. But it doesn´t feel good. I don´t feel okay, I´m not okay. The construction work at my house has had me feeling suffocated for over five weeks now.
I´ve moved five times, so far. From a friend´s place, to a B&B, to my aunt´s house, to staying at the flying club during the day, to camping out in a leaking tent. To tell you the truth, the last has been the best. At night I wake up gasping from nightmares, and I can barely get any sleep, but in the morning, all the birds sing, and there is so much peace.
At the moment, I don´t feel like I have a home. Very literally so. The place where I officially live may be under construction, so is my own body. I don´t feel at home in either. Both make me feel anxious, and sultry, unable to breathe. Sometimes I have dreams about being locked up or about being forced to be someone I´m not.
At the same time, I´m just not sure whether my feelings are welcome anywhere. I have good friends, who stand-by me, who help me, who support me. I feel like they try their best to understand, and yet, sometimes, get exasperated with my continued pessimism; they try to tell me to see my own body differently, to live it differently.
I wish I could make them understand, that I can´t. I don´t know how to explain it. My feelings do not have an ulterior motive, other than I want to desperately get rid of things that hold no truth for me. The physical shape I am in does not hold any truth for me. It feels like a shallow lie, and sometimes I hate myself for it.
I know it is dramatic. I know it probably is frustrating, to see someone suffer, and worse – to see them inflict suffering upon themselves – if only they could step out of their current condition for a little bit, and see the world beyond it. But I ask you – how am I supposed to see the world beyond me, beyond the reality I embody now?