Toxic waste and leftovers

I have this toxic mess leftover from my mother. I get these whirlwind spins when the gunk dumps itself in my brain and seeps into my body, and leaves me feeling all encompassed by self hating, jealous, and damn right shitty, thoughts. About myself and about others, in the comparison sense. I notice that all the shit that spirals around my brain is just stuff she used to say. It’s the jealousy, the crap, the toxic stuff she used to feed to me.

It’s not here all the time. I get waves of it, and it never feels like mine. It never feels like what I actually think. It’s like a demon that steps up and into me, but it’s not actually me. Other times I feel shitty or jealous or pissed or just a grumpy fucker, it can feel like me. But this kinda feeling, never feels like me. It’s her. It’s some of the stuff she’s left behind. I’ve been definitely sifting through and getting rid of the shit she left behind. The toxic mess that isn’t mine. And this is just one of those things. One of the buckets of toxic waste.

It manifests in a weird way. It manifests in the way I compare myself to other people and the way I see myself. Suddenly all this self hating dialogue kicks up. But not in the normal way, not in the regular self hating way…it’s more in a bizarre and somewhat hilarious way – like, if I wrote it all out it would be kinda funny. It seems and feels so abstract, that I know it’s not true. I think before though, before I became so aware of what is mine and what is hers, I didn’t know that it was abstract…it was mine and it was me. But I was still living in her toxic waste. I was still sharing the same pair of fins, trying to survive within it.

But now I’m me, now I don’t have that massive dumpster to have to survive in, I have the chance to find my own two feet. To find what toxic waste is just mine, and what is hers. We all have toxic waste – in other words, we all have shit – but it’s working out what is yours to keep and work with and then chuck the fuck out, and what is not yours and never will completely be and never has to be.

Sometimes I’m glad, in moments like this, that I feel things so somatically. Other times it really gets on my tits. But with this, I really feel her toxic waste slip into my bloodstream. My body feels like it’s been taken over by a foreign body, a foreign sludge. I feel heavy, I feel all consumed by the weird toxic thoughts that suddenly appear. I feel toxic. I don’t feel 100% me. And that is a relief, in a weird way. Other times when I’m feeling shitty, my body feels affected by it but it still feels like me, like mine. This makes me know that this shit, this toxicity is really just left over toxic waste from my mother and nothing to do with me. Just stuff I need and am and will sift through and let drain away.

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