cagejam (cagejam) wrote,
cagejam
cagejam

I went to the chiropractor yesterday. For $45 I got adjusted and massaged for an hour. Even my wrists and ankles got cracked (who knew one’s wrist could be out of place?) Upon talking to my dad, I found out that this treatment might have been more than typical, and it may have been because I’m a young woman, but I truly and honestly don’t mind one bit. For all that the world takes, why not accept some good?

I am moving into this new space- not in a physical way, but in a deep, inner way. A place where I refuse to settle. One where I realize what I need and go for it. One where I stop accepting half-assed companionship and underwhelming connection. One where I know what I want, what I need, and I make it happen for myself regardless of how anybody else feels. I’ve spent a lot of time pleasing, but what about being pleased? What about it? As women there is absolutely this corrupt mother energy. One that promotes self-sacrifice and unsustainable motives. One that thrives on seeing others happy at the expense of our own true happiness. We are force fed these examples everywhere we turn. Who says you can’t have it all? Who says they can treat you like this? I will not settle for surface commonalities. I seek understanding and compassion and if it is nowhere in sight I will close my eyes. I will look toward myself- what do I want? What do I need? What is it that I so desperately seek? The thing is, it’s nothing from no one. It’s abandoning the age old practice of biting one’s tongue to avoid confrontation. It’s standing firm on the ground that I claim. It hurts but it still feels better. The misunderstanding has been there all along. The disinterest has been there all along. I am only adjusting the focus, the perspective, I am only making it known. Something about spring cleaning or airing out dirty laundry. Something about fundamental necessity.

I owe no one the comfort of my own complacency toward their treatment of me. I owe no one my silence.
I knew better so I do better.
And how could you know if I come to you with closed eyes and a shut mouth?

This is the age of .....
this is the stage where.....

I am not sorry. Not one bit.
It’s your turn to apologize.

I’ve said sorry for how I feel far too many times to far too many people.

(Hey baby, come here. You’re my #1.)
I’m my only me and this is where my allegiance will lie.
Will lie.
But I won’t.
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