Journal Entry 9.26.23

Tangles. Part of unbinding is understanding how things are tangled together; how I have woven in grief to things where grief does not belong. I have a reoccurring dream. I am trying to pack for a trip and I cannot manage to bring things together. I can’t find things, and when I go to one room, it is too difficult to bring those things to where the other things are. Everything is too spread out, I cannot organize, I cannot consolidate. I cannot imagine how to leave if I cannot pack. Never in the dream, do I just walk away, unpacked and leave, free to get to my destination. The leaving is tangled in the packing, one gets obscured by the other. It all seems so essential, but in the dream, I never discover why.

I do not know why I cling to the thoughts that I do. The destructive, unhealthy thoughts tangled in the memories of the real live things that have happened to me. It feels impossible to let go of the horror of being unlovable to the people who should have treasured me, as impossible as giving up packing the unpackable suitcase of my dream. But I should. I should just walk away, like I should just walk away in my dream, because the consequence of walking away cannot possibly be as horrible as the consequence of trying to pack, of trying to be lovable enough not to be left.