this might as well be another language

forgive me if this makes no sense. it is currently 1am. bedtime is usually 3 and half hours ago, but i needed to write. if it sounds crazy, disregard this post, and i will try again in a more sober frame of mind.
Kimberly asked me if i had ever had an experience that called to mind a deeply suppressed memory. and i laughed. cause she touched that spot that i think everyone has and no one talks about. at least in my convoluted brain, everyone has this soft squishy spot in the middle of their being that we know exists, but we try to ignore it. Cause it hurts to look at it, and it hurts to think about it. and how do we breathe around it? no less ignore it? my soft squishy part tells me i am shaped and molded by every single rejection that i have ever experienced. it tells me that real love directed at me (agape and all others) is so scarce so as to be near impossible. it lies to me every day. with memories as the fueling proof. if i see someone wearing a pair of shoes that reminds me of that guy that wanted to love me forever...as his friend...with benefits though (yay), or if i see the name of the nine year old classmate who castigated me in front of the entire class for asking her to be my friend, that soft squishy part will retell the whole sordid story, with the added generosity of engaging all five senses. With or without my permission it drags me through the ups (and always the down), and the emotional person who went in, isn't always the same one that comes out. Sometimes the squishy part wins. Prayer helps. When I haven't gotten too low to pray. Those are the times that the rational me cuts the journey off before it begins. i.e.- i see the shoes..and now i am looking at that cloud up there that looks like mickey mouse, or cheese, or anything that will take my mind far away from the TORTURE. maybe that is what i will nickname my soft squishy part. the Torture is able to take jack hammers to my heart, and bulldozers to my power of reasoning and render me useless. Utterly incapacitated to any feeling. i can do anything in that state. even disappear. cause it's a protection right? i am currently investigating a way of making the Torture more of a mild heartburn, or even a way of turning it into a way of reminding me of all the love i have ever seen. so far success has been limited.
and this is is why Jah is beautiful. because he reminds me that nothing is about me. i am not the center of my universe. and he continues throwing love at me until i understand. i rejoice in any love that is shown to me, because any of it, no matter how little or how much it is, keeps me grounded in Jehovah's reality. and that is humbling. and little by little, those flashes of love shown me chip away at the reasoning of the Torture.
so if you're going to love the past present and future me, i know you didn't need to know this (if it has indeed been more enlightening than confusing), but i wanted you to know. i do know how to love fiercely. i have several examples in my life to prove that. witness my love for chocolate. j/k i am working on expanding that love now. to more than just my family, and more than to just my close circle of friends. i realize that i need to give love in order to be loved. so i am working on doing that in my congregation. and doing so more fully with those whom i already love. you are my family Lisa, and I love you whether things are good, bad or indifferent. thank you for the unconditionality of your love. i know unconditionality is not a word, but that's the best quality i can use to describe your love for me. and that is the biggest compliment i can pay anyone in my sad sorry opinion.
i'd also like to add that pausing makes me feel incompetent, but i do it when i am writing. it keeps the blood circulating in my head and keeps me from drowning in my own stupidity. (except when writing an essay on the effects of the soft squishy part of oneself at 2 am. not even Google Goggles could save me now).
Yours.