Well… today was interesting.
Work actually went well. Which is strange, considering how I felt yesterday. I felt absolutely worthless then.
Today didn’t feel like that.
But something was off.
I kept zoning out.
It felt like I was being erased.
This time, my worth was tested by me.
I was told I wasn’t enough by a coworker.
If I’m not enough for something this simple… what am I?
I’m my own safety net?
Where is my identity?
It wasn’t just in their eyes.
I became disposable to myself too.
If I’m not enough to myself…
then what am I?
It made me think—
if others were failing me,
maybe I can’t ask them not to,
because I failed myself too.
Maybe that’s why I’m so used to accepting disappointment.
No anger.
No fear.
No judgment.
I don’t consent to those kinds of ties.
The ones that only pull me down.
So I let it click.
And move on.
I know I’ll feel a bit sad.
For a moment at most.
I notice how I don’t wish to hurt anyone.
Just… let them go.
And that’s the thing.
Disappointment isn’t forever.
And if you catch it early—
it doesn’t have to stay.
Disappointment means I shouldn’t expect much from you.
And that’s fine.
I’ve seen people treat it like a crime.
When it’s not.
It’s just a realization.
Something to keep in mind going forward.
A marker—
showing me how to correct myself back onto the right path.
My worth was tested again, so to keep it, I just… shut off.
My body moved while I watched it.
It didn’t break the flow of my tasks.
It lasted for hours.
I woke up like that this morning.
No one really noticed anything different about me.
That’s good.
Just to keep up with my job, I took an energy drink.
I remember someone who stayed with me last night.
When all I wanted to do was turn the light off and forget I exist.
If I’m useless to others, it’s fine.
After all, I’m made for myself alone.
But what if I’m useless to myself?
I wouldn’t want to wake up.
My independence means too much to me to take lightly.
Without it, the best outcome is imposter syndrome.
Anything worse… I don’t even want to name it.
The real grief was realizing that prioritizing my consciousness seemed to be doing me wrong.
When it should’ve been doing me good.
I felt like I was failing myself.
And a failure to oneself…
is hell.
I put myself on the shelf.
Just to watch.
To catch dust.
While I made my money.
Did my personal tasks efficiently.
Just to keep the depression—and any other irrational thought—away.
No retaliation.
No thinking.
Just doing.
Being productive has always been the thing that keeps the depression—after the dissociation—away.
This distance from my mother has been… good.
We don’t really interact much anymore.
And when we do, it’s short.
More mature.
Something about it feels different.
I feel like she might actually be capable of change.
I didn’t see it before.
I think I stopped looking for it.
But today… she seemed like she genuinely cared about me.
At first, I didn’t believe it.
Then I started noticing it more.
She’s kind of like a stubborn tsundere.
Or maybe a prideful tsundere.
Who knows.
After all, she never always showed her love.
I was deemed the loser.
The guest.
At times even my stepfather felt bad for me.
Yet… nothing was done.
I still remember the way she yanked my arm.
The way consent didn’t matter.
I’m more blunt—direct with how I feel.
She’s not like that.
She’s not so bad now.
Maybe it’s age.
But I still remember how she used to look at me.
I wonder if that ever really left…
or if it just got buried under everything else.
We went to Ross today.
Tuesday—so discounts.
She didn’t treat me badly.
She bought me clothes.
And for once, I didn’t feel like I owed a kidney.
I didn’t feel forced to go along with anything.
It was just… easy.
Which is weird.
Why was she so easygoing?
How does she suddenly know how to do things the right way with me?
What changed?
I don’t even know if I care to figure it out.
I already know—
if someone doesn’t put in effort,
that’s still a choice.
So maybe this is one too.
Maybe she’s finally using that whole “leave the past in the past” thing.
She doesn’t bring it up.
Not really.
If this is a real chance at something going well…
I’m taking it.
I’ll still keep my instincts.
My mental safety.
But this feels like something that wasn’t even possible before…
actually happening.
We can be around each other.
And be at peace.
She seems to enjoy our conversations now.
I wonder how much she suffered.
I am her child.
And she isn’t evil.
She probably felt bad sometimes.
Just… not enough to stop.
I was always told I was loved.
Or maybe they were said in moments where they didn’t actually mean it.
People do cruel things when they’re upset.
That part is real.
Being hit, shoved, mocked…
that’s real.
Then comes the “I didn’t mean it.”
I remember being treated like I was crazy for not believing that.
For all I know, the feeling of care is real in the moment…
but the intention to care enough to stay that way isn’t.
I don’t know.
I don’t even know how to write this day properly.
There’s a lot missing.
But I don’t think it matters.
This is my space.
I can write it however it comes out.
For once…
I feel like I can actually live around people
without constantly thinking about more unnecessary escapes.
And if this grows into something real—
there’s no harm in letting today continue.
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