repeating classes

it’s only slightly ironic that “we” teach emotional regulation and i’m one of the “we”. it feels like a fourth mid-life crisis is coming on and each has been a little more drastic and unpredictable than the one before. torn because i can’t discern between grateful and hateful and because fragility is seeping out at an uncontrollable rate and because showing my face feels too vulnerable to exhibit for the entire day and f’n night. no matter the stage of healing, confidence, or knowledge of worthiness i somedays stumble over memory and struggle not to fall under its crest and drown in the replay of what won’t be erased. what set it off? the guy that stared at me after i spoke, feeling my discomfort on his skin and replying with words aimed to put me at ease in a covert kind of way which wasn’t totally real but kind of him to attempt. after that call the idea of being comforted crept in and it just kind of went downhill from there.

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