I don’t even want to write about this, but I want it to be written, and maybe, if I peel back the layers slow enough, I can explain why.
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I don’t like reading posts like this. Not always. That’s layer one. Sometimes I get something out of them, and sometimes I don’t. It’s hard to gauge what ratio of comfort to discomfort I’ll get from them — what will work as reassurance and what will just make me feel sick. And I think that’s mostly a matter of how it’s all framed. I guess I need a window into what’s happening as it’s being written, some kind of clue into what the author is experiencing as they’re sharing it, something to orient me, because otherwise, I tend to get sucked into the story itself, experiencing that and that only, stuck inside it without a context to step out into, and come away feeling worse. I want to put up some kind of barrier there. I want you to hear the author, me, thinking this through, as a sort of overlay, holding the subject at arm’s length. I don’t know how to do this otherwise.