Words appear as I think them like a karaoke video in serif font on a white background. Sometimes Iāll be doing the dishes and Iāll start repeating paragraphs Iāve drafted and editing and rearranging them and adding to them in my mind and they shift around visually as Iām doing it. Sometimes other words or phrases will get caught in there and theyāll quietly pass back and forth like a sky banner. Songs are often drifting throughāright now itās Pale September by Fiona Appleāand if thereās a particularly beautiful or resonant part itāll loop through that snippet a few times.
I think almost entirely in words, in monologue and in text, with very faint flashes of associative imagesāI imagine this is to protect me from the dark and horrific things Iāve seen in my life that would be too much to bear if I were to be exposed to them in such a visceral way. I canāt rotate or even envision a shape to save my life.
Rarely, strong images will appear to me in conscious lifeāI remember lying in bed, about to fall asleep, and suddenly seeing from the point of view of an investigator entering a pitch black cave with a lantern held in his hand as his only light, about to discover something terrible, no doubt.
My dreams are vivid and laden with powerful symbolism, and usually there is a sense of being too afraid to fully step into my power or claim whatās mine.
I have the memory of an elephant, with everything filed in nearly chronological order. Iām sure I tend to embellish and dramatize without realizing but then I think my memories speak to a certain distilled emotional truth, more accurate than pure facts. Sometimes there are some incredible blind spots in my perception that I donāt realize existed until years later.
I analyze and intellectualize everything. Iāve been told that my mind is obsessive and tends to fixate. Sometimes the emotions that I keep trapped in the basement push their way up through the trap door and threaten to stampede me as their captor but I manage to stuff them back down again until Iām ready to let them go; some of them may never see the light of day.
Feb 15, 2025
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Sometimes i get the same thing as you where words or blurbs will pop up like a bouncey-ball sing-along/karaoke jam. Thatās so cool!
āI want you to know why story-truth is truer sometimes than happening-truthā
dakotablue it feels like a really wonderful gift even though it can often lead to terrible analysis paralysis if left unchecked and sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be less burdened by crushing self awareness lol
taterhole lol i tell myself that all the time. and my mantra is donāt like the analysis lead to paralysis. are you good with remembering faces?
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Big navel gazer here; I often start in a delusionally romantic state of viewing things and evolve to a kind of reserved pragmatism through the process critical examination. Lately, writing has been like preserving these ephemeral states in amber, coexisting in a state of delicious permanence I can return to, instead of allowing them to wash away with the tides. This ultimately helps me engage more deeply with the world.
Jan 14, 2025
Sometimes I feel terrified. Then I wonder, DAMN. It's in my own head and on my own clock. Can't I let my imagination take over in a GOOD way? A wildly fantastic whatever I like and want way?
I can give myself that.
Mar 29, 2025
š
It's been a time of great emotional upheaval lately, kicking up old dirt, airing out miasmas, the works. I feel like it's a time of good change, working towards something bigger, and coming out the other side feeling more in my skin.
The issue lies with the compulsion to devotion and in a sense religion with it all. I grew up culturally Methodist, but never identified fully with the religion. There was a period where I denied any and all religion out of spite to the institution I was in, there was a period I desperately wanted to believe in guidance or some power watching over me, but it eventually settled to agnosticm. That's where I lay, that's where I've been. Until lately, where Ive felt a pull to explore that side again. It began with a compulsion to draw the natural order, the intertwining of human and animal behaviour. I never knew what I was drawing, or what any of it meant, I just knew it was something bigger than my own words, and it had to be out of me otherwise it would burn a hole through me.
I picked up the music of Ethel Cain, ever the sucker for religious imagery, but her music and approach has made me question things. I feel drawn towards a devotion, not necessarily towards the Christian gods or organized religion as a whole but something bigger, more ancient//primal than that? Maybe there is a god in the world, the sun, the gravitational pull, the trees, the water, the butterflies, EVERYTHING IS A CIRCLE. Ritual, giving myself up in a way brings a form of floating comfort, autonomy? I don't know how to describe it.
It's been on my mind, i've been pretty vocal about it, and also my newfound love//fixation on Ethel Cain. I don't know. part of me wonders if maybe people think this whole schtick I'm on is derivative of this music fixation and in a way a performance evoked by the music. i don't quite know why it matters to me, i guess I'm just worried my friends are getting sick of it. i do not feel like the same person, there is something much bigger than all of us, even if it is not omniscient or heavenly, it is not us.
Mar 25, 2025
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āLife shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.ā
ā AnaĆÆs Nin
This is uncharacteristically raw and personal, even for me, and pretty heavy! I know many of you have seen me posting through it and I feel safe to talk about it openly now that Iāve safely landed at the start of my new life. Itās honestly even a little bit embarrassing but I think itās important to share.
Iāve never publicly mentioned it on here, but I have a husband; as of Friday, weād have been together for 11 years, and weāve been married for 3 years as of 2/22. I realize now that I wanted to explore what I looked like outside of my relationship with him because I had lost that. This is why PI.FYI has been so meaningful to me as a space to express myself and connect with peopleāto rediscover my voice.
I had been living a lie this entire time, to others but worst of all to myself. Heās been verbally and emotionally abusive, physically but without touching me, to the point that every day I spent with him I was in danger. Iāve been shrinking myself and walking on eggshells to avoid making him insecure and provoking his casual put-downs and fits of rage, while hanging on for dear life to the threads of good I could see.
Iāve wanted so badly to leave, more than anything, but I felt like there was no way out and that this was just something I would need to endure indefinitelyābut someone who is so very dear to me helped me see that I have wings to fly, not by acting as my savior but by reminding me of my own power. The emotional safety they built and the gentle care they showed me made me feel like I could open up to them. With their encouragement I was brave enough to tell the truth to my friends, my family, my boss, and they have received me with warm, loving and open arms and rallied to support and protect me. The financial andĀ logistical aspects were the most intimidating to me and itās going to be tough for a while but Iām going to be better than okay!
Now Iām opening up to you. This isnāt the only abuse Iāve suffered in my life, and my old therapist told me she believed it was my mission to share my strength and light with others to inspire them and show them that change is possible.
I hope that by sharing this, I can reach even just one person who is going through something similar and show that they are not alone, and they are not weak. People with certain backgrounds may be more vulnerable to abuse, but it can happen to anyone. It thrives in darkness, shame, and isolationāand breaking that silence is the first step toward freedom.
Leaving is the scariest thing I have ever done but I have so many angels around me, and I am endlessly grateful. Thank you for being here with me š
Mar 16, 2025
My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebodyābe it a relative or one of my best friendsāwas to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too š
Feb 23, 2025
Schedule sent my resignation email for the morning, effective immediately ā
š
Feb 27, 2025