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* Pictures That Make Me Emo EMBARRASSING ENTRIES FOR MY OLDER SELF TO READ AT A LATER DATE ~ I'M AN ADULT NOW???IT'S TIME I START ACTING LIKE IT???Search:
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When you enter this site, it is to be understood you enter a new dimension of honesty, a new dimension of expression. Something that is raw and real and not yet analyzed. The shit that doesn’t want to be made sense of. Did that sentence make sense? Who the fuck cares. Not you. That’s right. That’s the agreement. Not you. You shouldn’tcare.
For the past six years I have had this blog, I have had to make and remake it a total of three times. Don’t be the reason for a number four. If you mean something to me, proceed with absolute caution.CLOSURE
26 _Friday_ Jul 2019Posted by emmadorf
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I’ve been looking for closure that I don’t think I’m going to get. Maybe writing on here will help. At this point I see nothing harmful coming from it. And I’m no longer ashamed or embarrassed. For almost a year, I’ve been summoning the strength to tell the Truth: the truth of what happened last fall and beyond. This past spring, I was finally able to admit it to myself. My body responded, alerted me that something was seriously wrong. I’m a little too truthful to myself, and I wondered what I was hiding. I assumed this all came from the events in the fall: losing a ton of friends, being accused of not believing women, etc. People kept on telling me PTSD doesn’t come from things like this. My logical brain kind of agreed with this. Almost two months ago, the Truth struck me. The true source of my hurt struck me. I was lying in bed with Brennan, and for some reason, every time he came home from work, I would begin to feel ill in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t even want to kiss him. I physically shut down. It was a different shut down from what I experienced last spring. The last time I experienced this shut down is when I was taken advantage of when I was much younger and couldn’t quite comprehend that what happened to me wasn’t right or loving or kind. I traced my memories. Nothing had happened with Brennan, I knew that for sure. But something had happened with the previous guy. For the next few weeks, I kept on reliving and reliving it almost every night before I went to sleep, cringing more and more to think that I stayed with that previous guy for quite some time after this incident. My sickness in the spring made sense to me now. I wasn’t upset over losing friends; I was upset that none of them believed me. In my mind, them shutting me out was a negation of what happened to me. A few of them even encouraged me to stay with that guy that raped me. I always knew nothing would come of it. I wouldn’t change him. He would continue sleeping with tons of other girls. It didn’t matter to me because in my eyes he seemed so mysterious, like there was something to figure out. And now I’m left with nothing, really. I locked myself in the bathroom one day in June. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t look at Brennan. He wanted to know what was wrong. I told him what happened. He was the only one who knew for a while. What upsets me the most is that people didn’t want to hear my Truth. People told me I didn’t believe or respect women when, in reality, those same people were supporting my rapist, or even claiming that my own boyfriend was disrespectful towards women. I honestly don’t know how I will pass through this extremely painful stage in my life without the validation from those people that this did, in fact, happen to me. But I have to learn to move forward somehow. And if you are one of those people that didn’t want to hear me out or ever look me in the eye or validate my existence, please get out of my life now. Save me from more pain. I’m ready to heal my wounds, not deepen them.FLEETING
03 _Thursday_ Jan 2019Posted by emmadorf
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MONDAY
11 _Sunday_ Nov 2018Posted by emmadorf
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You won’t find my thoughts on here, so don’t try too hard to look. Many thoughts are too dark to be on here, but maybe I’ll leave a few. I’m going to come out of this. Hopefully by the end of the semester, I’ll come out of this. Here’s what I know…. * I’m back in therapy for good now. I finally made the effort to get with someone new, and so far, it’s going really well. * Brennan is awesome. He’s so awesome, in fact, I feel stupid for being so uncertain about him during our first few weeks of dating. * I’m living with him until further notice: positive vibes only. * The show I’m in is fantastic, and I’m ready to give my fullsoul over to it.
* It’s hard to concentrate on my show, school, what’s going on with others, when so many thoughts are constantly swirling through mymind.
* I have little to no control over what happens around me, and I’ve decided to isolate myself because I am mentally unstable, and I don’t want to cause further harm. * I have been ceaselessly harassed for the past month. * I want this to stop, but I also want to just listen to people. * I’m worried about Brennan. These past few weeks have caused me to consider why it is we make art and what keeps us going when we feel like we have nothing left. Freedom of expression is very important. Having a check on one’s moral compass is absolutely necessary. And it feels terrible to feel censored and isolated and alone. But I’m thankful for the few people who ask this question: are you safe? As long as you ask me that question, I will keep asking the same from you. I will check up on you like you checked up on me from time to time. Gratitude is important. I am grateful for those who know this.TRAUMA OR NAH?
27 _Saturday_ Oct 2018Posted by emmadorf
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Directly from my journal, research for a show I’m working on: “I remember it wasn’t traumatic. And it wasn’t heartbreaking, save those 30 minutes after my mom told me. They weren’t getting divorced; They were just getting separated. My mom was moving out. She said she had been trying to make Dadoo happy for a long time but couldn’t do it. I leapt to the idea of divorce, but she firmly corrected me (probably holding on to the last remnants of their relationship). She tried to hype up the new house. I was scared of losing my house. I thought my mother was taking me away forever, and I would never see my dad again. The next morning was like a dream. I saw my parents and imagined all of the hard times that had passed between them- all that I had never noticed. They acted as if nothing had changed, and nothing had changed for them. That summer, everything continued as it had before. I went to camp, went to grandma’s. I went to middle school, and there were more big changes. That change really put a cloud over everything else. I was conscious of this new label all the time: ‘My parents are separated.’ Within 2 or 3 weeks of entering my new school, I witnessed an argument between my parents, the first fight I had ever seen between them, that changed the label. My brother was in the car. He was 4. Apparently, my father’s lawyer was an asshole. This was the first time I witnessed my mom as the aggressor, a role she still plays to this day. She would scream and yell and cry over the phone. She would hide nothing from me, and my dad would hide everything. He had no idea how my mother treated me at her house. He would apologize if he ever suspected I had heard my mother screaming on the phone. I thought this was ridiculous. I already heard it all from her. I told my dad on the floor of our breakfast nook, absent of the breakfast table because of my mother using it as her dining room table, that he didn’t have to hide anything from me anymore. I would have my bat mitzvah later that school year, but I always cite _THIS _as the moment I became awoman.”
PROBLEMATIC
19 _Friday_ Oct 2018Posted by emmadorf
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I decided last night to not talk about Keivon in front of Brennan. Oooh names. The events of the past week have taken the floor out from right beneath my feet. The one time I try to make my life boring, it becomes even more of a soap opera. I’ve been torn between what I thought my life could be by now (from the perspective of six months ago) and what my life really is. I’ve been forgetting my truth as the ground quakes beneath me. I’m experiencing the biggest shift I’ve felt in quite a long time. I got one note from my director of my one acts last year: what makes you happy? For the past 6-7 months, it’s been hard NOT to bring Keivon up, but he is a lot of what makes me happy summed up into one being. He could do anything in the world and I would still forgive him, and vice versa…I think. At least for whatever my version of the worst thing in the world I’ve done. But this year, as my closest friends develop and get busier, as I adjust to my new studio and my new training, it’s shifting a bit. It breaks my heart all over again. And I’m realizing new things about the people I’ve known for two years now. I’m in a show with a lot of positive people in it. I was asked the other day about what happened, and I told them, and they were nothing but positive about it. There are a lot of other people inside of it with clear biases, and that makes it hard for me to feel positive or confident about anything most of the time. I’m not going to be used and abused and disrespected anymore. Lightand Love?
(UNPUBLISHED DRAFT #2) 30 _Sunday_ Sep 2018Posted by emmadorf
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My life has long been dominated by the male narrative. Like most girls, from a young age, I dreamt about the day I would get married, who I would get married to, how many children I would have, what their names with me. By the time I was 10 years old, when I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I simply said that I wanted to be a “woman.” I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I was only concerned with making it to adulthood at that moment, living to the day when I got my first period or became a bat mitzvah or lost my virginity or bought my first house or got married. I was obsessed with all of this. Growing up. I’m still doing that thing but in a different way now. About a year ago, I decided ending this idea of what I thought my life was always supposed to be: get a boyfriend, go to college, move in with boyfriend, establish your career, get married, have kids. Boom. It’s done. Congratulations. You’ve made it. This is life as we idealize it. An Aristotelian plot structure, if you will. But the truth is, life is a spiral. We go around and around, making similar mistakes but never the same ones, cleaning up our act more and more as we move swiftly along. And we don’t know when the next curve will come, but we know that they will keep coming as long as we go on living. This is essentially Sonya’s monologue at the end of “Uncle Vanya.” We’ll go on living. A year ago right around this time, I honestly had no idea what my life would be like at this present moment. I knew I’d be alive, but that was it. It’s been anything but easy living my life uncharted. Often, I’ve lied to people about what has really been going on with me. I’m afraid to tell the truth because I’m afraid of the stigma and shame that comes with it. But I still can’t ignore that I’m a huge planner and a big believer in destiny, which is why I’ve decided to pursue a dream that came to me in October. I wasn’t doing anything in the dream. I was simply examining my arm. On my arm, the word “emet” manifested in its Hebrew letters. How I knew the exact letters or why that image was in my head, I do not know (post-high holy days fever?!?!), but it was a sign, and this much I knew. “Emet” means truth. What was the truth then? The truth was that I was hopelessly in love with a guy who probably had no idea I ever felt that way. The truth was that, in the past year, I had committed every single sin listed in “Avinu Malkeinu.” The truth was that I was actually more religious and spiritual than I let on. The truth was that I was not mourning for my four year relationship, but I was mourning for myself. I was mourning for the girl who steadfastedly believed in love and marriage. I was mourning for the 15 year old girl whose heart fluttered at the sight of a single man because now I can’t put that much focus into one person without thoroughly examining myself.Truth.
I got truth tattooed into my skin so that I’ll never forget myself. I am a woman. I am a Jewish woman. I’m an artist. I’m a sister. I’m a daughter. I’m a friend. I am single. I am a Texan, and I’m a New Yorker. I am a lover of life. I am living my truth.COWARDS
23 _Sunday_ Sep 2018Posted by emmadorf
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I love you, but rarely is that ever enough. I didn’t want to hurt you, but you gave me no choice. I fought for you, and you responded often with indifference. There are things that just don’t change. There are aspects of you that will never change, and there are aspects of me that will never change. I love you so much that the idea of a planet without you on it immediately brings tears to my eyes. I love you so much that I would do quite literally anything for you. But you. You couldn’t say the same. If I asked, would you come running to me? Would you fight for me? Would you never give up? Would you come to me in the middle of the night just to tell me you loved me? I probablywould have.
You and I would both have to change so much. (UNPUBLISHED DRAFT #1) 11 _Tuesday_ Sep 2018Posted by emmadorf
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I haven’t told you I love you yet because I know it would be a big deal. I’m sure to you it would just mean validation, but to me, it would signify a lot more. It would be different for me than it is for you. How can I love someone who claims constantly to hate me? Let me ask you this: Do you respect me? That’s all I care about.Do you respect me?
For the first time in my life, I’m actually hesitant as to whether or not I am actually in love with someone. Probably because I know what happens next or maybe because I know you so well that I know you will never let your guard down that much. It’s hard for you to love, but it’s harder for me to hate.And which is worse?
I think the question I’m asking is the right one: Do you respect me? I care so much about the answer, so that must mean I care so muchabout myself.
Am I in love with you yet? Do you want the yes answer or the no answer?The no answer is:
I thought I might be in love with you, but then I realized I was trying too hard- well, I was subconsciously in love with the person I imagined you to be so many months in the future. And that’s trouble. That’s no good. That’s me wanting to change you, and I’m really done with trying to change people. If I loved you, I could embrace you for all that you are. Right now. So I guess I’m not in love with you, but an idea of you.The yes answer is:
I was pretty convinced in mid-June that I was in love with you. And one night, I was lying next to you and just laughing hysterically for no reason. You asked me why I laughed, and I wouldn’t tell you. You pushed, and I still wouldn’t tell you because I wasn’t absolutely sure. And what’s more, I knew there was no way you felt the same way about me. And the next day I felt something I have never before felt. Ever. It was like, when you left, I wasn’t necessarily sad. I was very happy. But…I was emptier, for lack of a better metaphor. It was like, a part me left with you. And those 30 minutes after you left, I was dealing with the split. And then I was fine and happy again. But I realized I was mortally screwed because I felt something so strong. And yet, what I feel I don’t think is love, actually. It’s like, I can’t imagine not being friends with you. If I go the rest of my life without working with you, I will consider that life to be more of a failure than anything. I can see us together forever, but not in a romantic way? Like, how is it that we never get tired of having sex with each other? Regardless of whether or not we are monogamous (which we aren’t), we NEVER get tired of it all. It’s never not exciting. I’m rambling, but the point is that it’s not love. It’s an entirely brand new emotion that is deeper and different from thatword.
For right now though, I’ll just say I love you.NEW YEAR
09 _Sunday_ Sep 2018Posted by emmadorf
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Shana Tova.
Last year was a really difficult Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur for me. It was so difficult, in fact, that it ended with me re-connecting with Sam, which turned out to be a very big mistake. It was difficult because in the Jewish tradition, we sing “Avinu Malkeinu” (Our Father, Our King) on both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It follows: “The sin we have committed against you for…” It’s a list of all the ways we have sinned in the past year- the prime vehicle for Jewish guilt- and last year, I had committed every one of these sins. “How did I get so off-track?,” I asked myself. I felt farther from myself than I had ever been. Today I feel more like myself than ever. Here are some of the things I’ve learned in the past year: * Speak up. If you have a problem with someone or even the smallest miscommunication, share it with the person who needs to hear.* Use condoms.
* If you feel uncomfortable about a certain facet of your life, tryto change it.
* If someone isn’t serving/respecting you, leave them. * You are not responsible for every heart you break. * If red flags come up, don’t immediately dismiss the situation, but be cautious and carefully evaluate it. * Ignore ignore IGNORE bad habits (this includes people). * If you respect yourself, you’ll never let anyone else disrespectyou.
* Be kind to yourself. * Cry at least once a week.Happy New Year.
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