Chey’s Lounge

Maybe I want to do too many things, and it’s paralyzing. It’s scary to start new things. Even when I put my mind to something, it just all feels silly and not worthwhile, and then I’m left just as or even more confused than before. I guess I’ll keep doing this despite, or perhaps in spite, of that feeling. 

All of the uncertainty that surrounds me is upsetting my belly. More than likely, I’ll keep ignoring/dealing with it. I’m not sure what else there is to do but treat the symptoms at this point. I’ve always been a little averse to treating symptoms, and then something happened in my life that exacerbated that sentiment, but in a different way. We’ll go over that one day, perhaps. I’ve sorta felt like maybe one needs to suffer a little. Maybe you shouldn’t take something for every headache. Idk if that’s really doing me any good, but it is what it is. I was talking to a friend about the belly blues I’ve been experiencing, and she asked if I’ve tried anything natural. I’m considering looking into it to see if I can find anything. I’d probably feel more comfortable treating symptoms with something natural versus a pharmaceutical. Don’t ask me to provide any evidence to support why I’d feel that way; I don’t have it. 

Sometimes there’s really no logic behind why I think/feel a certain way. It’s frustrating because even when I come to this realization, I can’t shake feeling the way I do. It makes me feel so illogical and like all those things they say about women are true. Then I remember just how many people definitely have no logic behind their thoughts and never even come to the realization that’s the case. Well, never say never. It’s crazy how you just don’t know what you don’t know. I do wonder how many people feel like they know it all or have it all figured out. Maybe the key to having it figured out is just believing you do because nothing is real? 

On the topic of nothing being real… I like telling stories. I don’t know if I’m good at it, but I love a good story. Basically, all stories have a little fiction to them because our memories are imperfect. I learned that in a class called Historians’ Craft. I really thought recording devices would change the game forever and the truth will forever be known, but AI has put a wrench in that, for now at least. I definitely like to tell stories about things that have happened, but I do enjoy writing fiction too. I can’t help but put a lot of my real life into whatever little works of fiction I half-heartedly write up and inevitably abandon. Maybe writing so many thoughts regarding my real life will open up some space in my mind to come up with some stories. 

I wish I were a better writer. At least instead of just wishing, I’m actually doing something about it right now and am practicing daily. I’m not sure how much I’m getting out of the way I’m doing it, but whatever, it is what it is for now. It doesn’t need to be great, I just want it to be something. To practice and just for consistency’s sake. I want to do things that may be hard. I’m not really great at that, so I just need to start somewhere, even if it is a little silly and not really hard. I’ve always allowed what people say to dictate what I do a lot. I wish I wasn’t in the part of the population that just listens and does whatever I’m told, but I kinda am. I don’t think listening to others has done me much good. I don’t think listening to myself has either LOL. I think sometimes I take people’s suggestions as commands. And when I say I think, I mean I know. The worst is when I resent them for it. Like, girl, you have agency, just do what you want. I don’t know what I want though!! I’m just sensitive and unsure, and it’s reflected in my belly issues.