Soul not Included

Chapter 117

I'm sure that not many people could relate or come to understand me.

I'm aware that many people wouldn't even know where to begin to believe me or trust me.

I understand if they all think me a liar and a faker.

I know that I don't always make sense. I'm a walking contradiction after all.

That's what I thought about as I cried next to Augustus right beneath the fountain Bella had ran through to save Edward from exposing himself to the humans during a festival.

I think about these things all the time but mostly when I'm feeling down on myself. The first step to feeling better (for me at least) is always self analysis. What am I feeling? Why do I feel that way? What are the origins to these feelings? Are there other events I have gone through that resulted in these same feelings? Which event is that original source of these feelings? Is that source the cause of my trauma? ... then I switch the question just slightly to: Why do I act this way? What makes me act this way? What are the events that usually make me act this way?

And so on and so forth until I have a potential origin point of the cause of all this trauma.

The fact that I'm able to see myself in such an objective manner might confuse others. I usually don't cry when I tell my stories of abuse, rape, depression etc is because I've rehashed through it so many times in a way that makes me a third party to my own trauma. When sorting through my behaviors and emotions like this it's easy to put the emotions on hold. It's sort of like flipping through a character sheet. All of these traumas is just part of the background story.

The problem comes when I try to correct them. 

I can't correct my problems because I don't know the answers.

Sifting through my emotions and trauma is easy because I know them. I know the incidents they coincide with. I know more or less how my age, mental fortitude and such play a role in how I react and feel at any given moment. I know that some days I have more fortitude than others and I know that when I'm tired and mentally exhausted it's better to just sit alone sit through it all and then sift through it all again until I can be functional.

But that's all it is. It's a process to be functional. To be okay.

It's not a cure. 

I don't have the answers to fix me. 

So i just don't fix me.

This is normally the time people often say go to a therapist but lo and behold; I have a bad experience with them. I was a child that got -what i feel like it was- betrayed by my counselor and rejected by my therapist. Both adults that was supposed to be there to help me.

My trust issues don't allow me to want to make the attempt to see another adult in that profession even though logically I know not all therapists and counselors are alike.  Logically I know. Emotionally I don't trust them.

Hence the two conflicting sides of me.

The mature and immature. 

The emotional and the logical.

The one that wants to move on and the one that refuses to.

That's just the way I am. 

Crying like this in public is unlike me but because Augie is here I feel safe enough to cry. No, i wouldn't be surprised that I'm crying because of his encouragement for me to cry. Maybe it's his influence. Maybe it's a good thing. Crying for myself is difficult and I admit that the times that I've managed to do that for myself have always felt good. But i always needed to break in order to do it. Being broken to cry is always exhausting... i like this cry just because you need to think that Augie is showing me.