Favorites, favorites everywhere, and all I feel is meh

It’s my favorite time of year, heading into my favorite month (the calendar page for October shows a couple of fuzzy orange kittens hiding in a flower patch/garden, which is too precious). I should be falling over myself with happiness, but all I can muster is a lukewarm “Meh.”

I feel tired. I just had a couple days off, came home from work today and had a nap, but I feel totally exhausted. I had to fight myself in order to get a decent (well…decent-ish) meal into me. I have no energy for much of anything.

I wish I could cry or scream or throw things. But all that takes energy and emotion I don’t have.

It’s not really sleep I want–though it sounds really good and I feel like I could sleep for a few hundred years. I want rest. A simple hour without things bouncing and pinging in my head. An hour of quiet. I don’t even have that when I sleep, what with having an active imagination and being a vivid dreamer.

Sigh.

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It’s just emotion, taking me over

I’ve been posting here, but they’ve all been private things, not fit for public consumption. Don’t worry, I’ve not forgotten you.

I got a deck of Tarot cards for my birthday, and I’m trying to learn them. I keep dreaming about the Lovers card and the ace of cups. I’ve dreamed about those cards since the first day I slept with them beneath my pillow. Something scares me about those cards, both separately and together.

I said that to lead into my topic. I’m going to try to talk about emotions here.

I’m afraid of my emotions. Feeling them, having them. I wish I didn’t feel at all. My emotions have done nothing but give me stress and heartache.

There’s just too much of them. I feel too much, too strongly. I always have. Every time I try to feel a little–just a little, since the damn things will out no matter what I want–the whole boiling rears up and I have the devil’s own time trying to wrestle them back into some semblance of order.

I wish I didn’t feel, like I said. I can never feel the right things. My mother always told me that my responses were off and wrong, that I didn’t feel what “normal” people felt; she said it to me today in fact, in passing during a phone conversation.

My feelings are always inappropriate, in the wrong measure, for the wrong things, at the wrong times. I can never figure out when the “right” times are.

They won’t leave me alone. They haunt my dreams and leave me stressed. I wish it would stop.