"Living," they say,

"is sometimes like licking honey off a thorn."

Getting better at this "feeling less" business, but could that just be telling me I am getting better at piling on the band-aids? Sometimes I feel really good, I'm just cruising. Not too high, not too low. Like I have come to accept what is and my energy levels are strong. But then, from seemingly nowhere, those thoughts creep in that make me question everything once again and I slowly spiral downwards. I hope I have learned how to catch myself from losing control... I suppose if you practice letting yourself get close to that point often enough, you eventually learn to master the come-back - yeah, that would be a theory I am talking myself into (don't try this at home, kids!). Oh Emma, Emma, Emmmmmmaaaa.

Maybe I am just confused. Perhaps I confuse my need for being alone right now to mean there is something more severely wrong than there is. That intervention on the sisters helped calm this house down and I definitely feel a sense of peace being here. For the very first time since I have been here. Which is so nice! Unfortunately, this house is riddled with memories of the awful kinds and memories of the wonderful kinds. So for awhile "home" was not the place I felt comfort and safe. It's the worst, worst, worst feeling - no escaping, no hiding, no safety. If you don't find sanctuary at home - where else could you find it? There's a heckuva lot of baggage in this place for having only been here two years, myself. But who am I kidding? There's baggage everywhere. I think I just had a moment of insanity before I moved here, thinking that moving here would be some fairy tale answer to everything. Gosh, why do I do that? In the moment, everything I imagine seems attainable and easy - but the reality of how things turn out is that they are way harder than I psychologically prepared myself for. Resulting in madness and catastrophe, of sorts. Stupid fantasies!

Time to dose reality and remind myself that life sucks, life is hard, life would love to beat me down - and no, not in a "Oh poor me!" sort of way. Just, you know. The way it actually is. It's not a fairy tale no matter how much you wish it were. Yet I can't help wishing. No, no I am not entirely ridiculous that I believe it could be a fairy tale. I just can't accept the possibility of life *actually* sucking... even if it were absolutely true, all the time. Does everyone cope with life by holding the crap it throws at you and thinking somehow this is crap in your hands is  actually something lovely?

WTF, life. I love it, then I hate it. Argh!