Halloa! I fear this box may never provide a description that could ever truly satisify the definition of description.
In saying that, I'm in my 20s, from Liverpool, apparently an infp, with a passion for Liverpool FC, history, and Star Trek. Ahem.My derp face brings all the mosquitoes to the yard.
I hope to be active on Tumblr again sooner rather than later. I miss this place. It’s hard to post, though, when you have an adorable little guy. I wish I could show you pictures of him, but I just feel equivocal about putting him in the public eye. Suffice to say, Ari is the cutest, and he has such an infectious smile, and makes pterodactyl screeches (while bouncing back and forth like he’s about to lunge at something) whenever he gets excited.
Reminder that you’re not a bad person for something you said or did months or even years ago.
RSD/rejection sensitivity and anxiety can make you believe that you are, but just the fact that you’re feeling remorse for your actions means that you most likely aren’t. Bad people don’t care if they hurt others.
Guilt/remorse is a sign of change. It obviously doesn’t absolve you from responsibility, but whatever you did is done now so all you can really do is learn from it and not do something like it again.
I am alive. It’s been a long, difficult road facing my fears, facing my anxieties. But, here I am. A lot has changed. I can’t even begin to go over them all. Besides all the overwhelming stresses & various traumas, I lost my dad, I moved to Ireland, lived in Cali for a bit, came back home, got married, possibly had Covid-19 (all the way back in December 2019!), and now have a baby!
It might sound like logging into a site like Tumblr or Facebook would be a breeze aftter going through all that, but those stressors (and an earlier brush with my own mortality) led me to really disconnect from my social life. Over time, each month that I didn’t log back in made things so much more difficult and overwhelming. I feared rejection (and still do, to be honest).
I was consumed with guilt that I didn’t know how to articulate what I was going through. I was filled with dread that friends I cherished would no longer want to talk to me, or that I wouldn’t even be able to come close to explaining what had driven me away.
It’s become increasingly apparent that I likely have Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. Certainly, it would explain so, so much of my life, and, on reflection, has shaped so many moments. I’m trying to manage my instincts and reflexes that influence my fears, but I don’t knnow how well I’m doing.
This went on a bit. I have no idea if anyone remembers me, but I hope you are all doing well, and living wonderful lives.
A young man slumped against railings blows on a battered toy trumpet during New Year’s celebrations in Times Square, New York -
Jan. 1, 1952. Photo by Ernst Haas.
“Movies were meant to stay on the screen, flat and large and colorful, gathering you up into their sweep of story, carrying you rollicking
along to the end, then releasing you back into your unchanged life. But
this movie misbehaved. It leaked out of the theater, poured off the
screen, affected a lot of people so deeply that they required endless
talismans and artifacts to stay connected to it.”
