Magi Soul

While there are many drafts waiting for the finishing touch, I don’t want to touch them right now. I just want to journal and get this off my chest. Whatever “this” is. *shrugs* I’m sure I’ll know by the end when I click Publish.

I’m in a new space, a new city, a new state. New roommates, a new routine, a new job. So much new and yet I’m bored. That’s what I think is bothering me. Emphasis on think, because I wanted slower and less chaos. I wanted a chance to just be and not worry about the roof over my head for a minute. That’s the chance I was given and I’m grateful. But oh my goodness I feel like nothing is in my control and I don’t know what’s going to happen next.

Is that part of my issue too? Probably. I want to be doing things and seeing progress and feel accomplished. As if I didn’t make it through the last year of absolute tower moments. Woah. Now that I’m saying it, I do see how I had multiple situations that could be seen and labeled as that. {If you want a reading just let me know, I have some spots available haha.} Being let go from my well paying job, struggling to pay my bills and maintain my previous lifestyle, working a part time job that was not worth the pay and made me unsure of my relationship with my best friend {ouch}, almost getting evicted several times, having my car get repossessed, selling all of my belongings to move out of state. Since just after I bought this blog domain, I dealt with all of that. An entire year.

I want to work on this blog all the time. And yet, when I try to write something, nothing comes to mind and I want to throw my laptop. I have so many drafts just waiting to be finished and published, but they’re ones I never wanna work on. I have this standard that I use to justify why I can’t work on them or let others see them. It also keeps me from creating and writing. Not just the standard, but the fear that nothing I will make, write, or create will matter or be liked and appreciated by anyone. I know that’s not true, but this blog isn’t a gift that I’m giving someone for their birthday or Christmas. It’s just me, writing and making attempts to be open and vulnerable.

I can see in my mind’s eye the things I want to create. Zines, collages, posters, long and short videos, cute sewing projects, accessories, recipe books, card deck, etc. The list really could go on for a long time. I was always surviving and doing my best to take care of myself, even if it didn’t seem like it. I was decent at paying rent and house bills, feeding myself, and taking care of personal hygiene. But when it comes to the doctors.. my parents weren’t the best at taking care of me in that way so I ended up neglecting that aspect of my health and wellbeing too.

Because of that survival mode I wasn’t letting myself create and make things. Which I know the patriarchy loves because it makes me a perfect cog in the machine. But I don’t want to be one. I want to be me, a person who doesn’t fit into most systems, groups, and spaces.

Would I like to write more? Sure. But I am tired and my brain has stopped making connections to thoughts and ideas. I could save this to add onto tomorrow, but then it would end up in the wasteland that is my drafts. And I really don’t want that, so I’ll end it here and go to bed. I do hope to write more and make this little corner of the internet cozy and mine.

With fairy dust and no fucks to give,

Lyn ❤