I’ve avoided opening a specific website for over a week now. I cannot say that I’ve fully bought into the concept of it. To those who know about it, I am visibly all in, and to myself I am hesitant.

I am a bit of a purist at heart. Romantic if you will. Idealist in that the concept of happily ever after never left me even if all my attempts at it have crashed and burned. I wonder what it is about me that doesn’t allow the continuation of that which seems right. The most recent ex is the biggest question mark there. Intellectually, none of it was about me, yet it is me who has to walk the road ‘alone’ again and I ask questions.

The projection of the ex was “perfect”, and my commitment to the projection matched. I never did see that underneath it all was the box of corn flakes I dislike, and I ask myself how I missed it.

I look out as the sunshine exposes what I’ve allowed to happen to my space and I woke this morning with the intention of correcting it. I will make some progress, but I wonder if I can get it all done. I can hear the mattress calling me telling me that it can wait, but it cannot.

One of the challenging things about this current experience, is that I’ve landed in a familiar place. Juggling and balancing and wondering what I can let go to sustain, knowing that I have already let everything go and there is nothing more to donate to the cause.

On Limekiln Pike I did that for over 2 years before exhaustion took hold and there was no more strength in my arms or heart to keep the balls in the air.

Here, I won’t have 2 years and here there is no resource, or connection or safety which can reduce my exposure. Which takes me back to the website I haven’t opened. Am I willing to sell the last of what is pure of me to maintain? The simple answer is no, which is why I am in avoidance mode. The bigger answer is I know that I might and in that possibility I ask if that is what I dreamt of, once upon a time.

I’ve engaged with 1 very slow participant, who advised that in the future all of the things are waiting for me. And a part of me clings to the idea that just perhaps it can be a version of what I’ve always wanted. Then I think about what I almost had with the projection and I reject the concept. April Nicole is what I’ve always wanted. She was there and real and happy. There were moments of darkness, but overall it was that which I’ve never allowed myself to believe in, until I did.

December Nicole is determined to survive, yet survival is not what I want.

There are echoes in this apartment, in places there should not be. I won’t detail them except to say, I’ve been here before and I dislike it. There is always one more thing just out of reach and my arms can no longer stretch.

In theory, I’ve set things up for January to be different. In practice, well who the fuck knows until it arrives. I thought December would be my ‘month’ and the annual practices hit me and the realization that I bought into the idea bigger than me, relying on someone else’s word has me in this state.

It makes me want to reject vulnerability, and trust. To revert back to the version of me which denies all of that and I know in a lot of ways I cannot do that. If for no other reason the little one.

While that makes me happy, I type and understand once more, this is a moment where the motivation is external, and ask myself when the fuck does it ever become internal?