Woundings

Musings on attachment.

I am sitting here feeling activated, oozing that activation like a wound gone sour. I am an anxious attachment style and right now my wounds are gaping. I am also covered in poison ivy lesions and I don’t imagine that is helping me to regulate myself.

My partner has a disorganized (or fearful-avoidant) attachment style, which our therapist said is a tricky one. This attachment style can move between a strong desire for closeness to fear and avoidance. It can happen so fast that the emotional whiplash is chronic. That inconsistency is a recipe for my anxiousness, it feeds my beast. When I say anxiousness it feels a bit downplayed, is there a better way to say it, like-a demon taking over my body and possessing every rational way of being I have known. Something like that.

The last few months I’ve been studying, learning, finding ways to move through the activation but right now I want to pack everything I own and put it in a storage unit and go hide in the woods where no one can find me. Last night I imagined breaking things, throwing things, slamming things-acting out so the anger I feel had a story outside of my body. Now can you see, now can you see how much pain I am in? (The pile of broken stuff would say.)