So I guess tonight is one of those nights where I torture myself by listening to mandopop from a very distant time where things were much simpler and cry my heart out and turn up at work looking like I got punched in both eyes. The current choice of soundtracks is Jay Chou's Fantasy album of course. The quintessential emo teen of the 2000s' playlist. Also about the time that I met my ex-husband.
What am I crying about though? I mourn many things. I mourn my self abandonment. I mourn how I mistook minimal effort for love. I mourn not knowing myself well enough to see what I needed in a relationship. I mourn that I failed to see my ex husband's lack of effort and the many excuses I made for him.
Who would have thought that at least 10 years after the last post that a 37 year old V would pick this up again. I think writing, as I have come to recognise over the years only extends to blogging, used to bring me a lot of joy when I was in secondary school through university. And personal shortcomings of not seeing things through has prevented me from monetising my writing otherwise I think I would be earning good money. Nowadays they say it's good practice to journal as a form of therapy and emptying thoughts from one's head.
Admittedly I've been stuck in a rut for a long time, mentally since 2017 I would say. I can't focus on a task for more than an hour at a stretch, and I often lose my train of thought. With the exception of diarrhoea-typing my thoughts on a page like this. Energy has been all time low when I thought it couldn't get any lower.
The state of my room is horrible. It's pretty much a dumpster fire and I have a problem I keep spending money on unimportant things that I want. This overindulgence does not help the room situation at all.
Health wise I am highly sedentary and I can't seem to find any motivation to get my arse moving. Weight is also increasing and while I am trying to control my food intake I think mobility could be a lot better to help with the pains.
Emotions wise I would say I'm on the mend although there are days I lament how I spent more than half of my life being with someone I thought I would grow old with only to realise that he can't and won't love me the way I need to be loved only at a very late stage.
Childhood wounds wise I have also learned that the model of love I know was learned from my parents and I objectively have a pretty fucked up childhood. I thought it was independence but chatgpt and instagram has told me that this is over-independence and the kind of childhood I had is not normal at all and far from loving. You know how in secondary school when your teacher shares that research shows that delinquents are produced by neglect and not abuse and your inner monologue goes "thank god I'm not neglected" only to find out 20 years later that hey actually you were very neglected as a kid? Yes that's me.
It was also startling to learn that there is no such thing as unconditional love and giving your all to a partner who doesn't reciprocate. In no world does that model work. V in her 20s had a very warped perception of love. It was also quite a sad moment to learn that people deserve to be loved because V in her 30s thought that nobody deserved anything and that was entitlement. But chatgpt told me that people deserve to be loved simply for who they are and not what they do for people and that was sad and eye opening at the same time.
Also this is why I don't have a relationship with my parents because they have never put in the effort to cultivate love or a relationship with their children. A large part of me doesn't feel bad about it at all unfortunately.
Joke's on me though in my 20s I thought I had it all only to have that perception 100% torn down in my 30s. But hey at least I had this awakening now and not only when I'm in my 40s or 50s right?