Fighting Ghosts.. And a fuck to give.

I am looking for a fuck to give today. I see how tired my partner looks. Deep in his eyes, he’s as tired as if he’d fought in three wars. His grandma who is like his mother is dying. He is in a crazy busy PhD program. And I am just loosing my shit over here. I’ve had more traumatic feelings, thoughts, stories, and memories come up from my childhood recently and had a lot of physical chronic illness flare ups recently (which tends to happen when my mental health and depression are in the toilet because that shit directly effects autoimmune shit) … and I just have no fuse, no spoons, and no fucks to give. But I can see how tired he looks. And so I am *trying* to find a fuck to give. Searching for a spoon. I am sick of fighting ghosts. Getting in the ring with me will get anyone a bloody lip and a black eye, but I’m just fighting fucking ghosts. Tom’s ghost. Piece of shit sadistic pedophile father ghosts. I have been afraid since I was a child – terrible terrible terrible shit in my childhood really – and to be vulnerable then was to be hurt over and over and over again. So now I struggle with being vulnerable as an adult. And with these memories coming up and PTSD triggers happening in a concentration right now, it feels damn right next to impossible to soften and be vulnerable. I feel nothing but hard and angry, and anxious and sad. But I have to try. Because I see how tired my love is. He gets in the ring with me and fights my ghosts with me. He is tired and beat up right along side with me. I have fought this ghost before so I already know what it brings, but he didn’t. He didn’t sign up for this. But he is here anyways. So.. I am looking for a fuck to give. I am looking for a god damn fuck to give so that I don’t throw away everything good in my life and push away everyone loving and real and SAFE. My partner is safe. Why can’t I just believe that anyone is safe? Is who they say they are?                                         – Blue

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