I am one year real

Saturday was the day. I had a party where I invited some people close to me to come out and play in a park by the ocean. It was easier than I expected to have them all in the same place. Unfortunately some of the people I really wish were there couldn't be because of distance. But I was happy with how many were close enough to come.

I still feel real. I know I am real. I have the kindling to a sense of self. But the flame is still weak and I have a long way to go. I still despise and suck at self expression. What I want to express is always dictated by others and feels irrelevant to me. I still don't know who I am. And I am disgusted at the process. But I do it because I must. I am human after all.

But in this realness I have gained a lot of new skills. I can now say no better. I can test people and ideas. I can protect myself more. I can allow myself to experience life without overwhelming empathy.

It is honestly hard to reflect in a meaningful way lately/right now. I am so busy trying to help my mom, trying to keep moving forward. I know that's supposed to be a good thing. It is such a strange thing however, because I spent so much time reflecting, thinking abstractly and philosophically, that to merely exist feels like folly. OR something. It's just strange in a way I used to denigrate.

One thing is clear

I have conquered the thought habits of shame. I am more hopeful than not. I am more flexible than not. I am more open to the idea of survival than not. And that is the most important thing. That is the foundation for all my future progress.