The man left this morning. I am sad. It’s weird being alone in the woods all day. I don’t have a job, besides writing this newsletter, and I don’t really have to do anything. I am here to make art and I will but damn is it nice to have someone around. He left early, while I was half asleep. I thought he said he’d be back by two for lunch, but I know I just dreamed that. He needs to work. He has to work, and I don’t want to get in the way of that.

I woke up with a yeast infection too, and I’m sitting here with skyrr icelandic yogurt in my pussy. I will try every home remedy I can before paying a telehealth lady $100 bucks for a prescription (that’s the only thing that’s ever worked). I’m in the middle of nowhere, and it’s hard to move the RV. I’m probably an hour from any major store. I need to get used to moving the RV, but it’s a big fucking girl and this is my daily driver. I truly do love modern conveniences, and I am a capitalist. I am searching for dirt bikes today.

Getting triggered is fun

Yesterday was a significant day with the man. I got triggered when he had a phone call with his mom. It was on speaker. We were in his car driving back to where we left the RV. We took the scenic route through Rocky Mountain National Park. Long story short, she wasn’t very nice to him and showed no faith in his dreams. Who am I to judge, I still barely know this fucker, but goddamn if anyone’s gonna talk to me like that, let alone it be my own mother. We need to help motivate one another. I’ll take your shackles off. You help me with mine.

It activated this part in me that’s unsure of reality. Am I seeing him clearly? Does his mom think he can’t do the things he says because she knows something I don’t? Are my rose colored glasses really that foggy? I felt my heart close. I felt my protectors come online. I started asking hard questions. I told him I’m getting activated here and I don’t know why (I don’t always at the time). My heart really wants him, but my mind needs to be sure he’s worthy of being in our life. He is wild, and I love that. I am wild, but I’m also responsible as hell. I want to succeed in this country, and I need someone who could be a politician’s husband.

We talked about how your soul chooses your parents. You’re here to learn from them. You’re here to heal from them. He knows he has stuff to heal. That’s more than most guys can even admit. I’m pretty heavily focused on self-development in my life, so I need a guy who is too—it’s non-negotiable. He said he was, and I believe him.

We want to be here

I am a masochist. Wilhelm Reich, an Austrian doctor of medicine and a psychoanalyst, created the 5 Personality Types, also known online as the Character Analysis. I have been typed professionally, and my own inquiry is pretty confirming that I am a masochist in posture. You have both a posture and a stance—more on this later. Masochist, also called the “endurer”, means you endure emotions, pain, etc. You resist life. You chronically suffer. It’s a posture that you form to hold energy; it’s how you allow anger, pain, and frustration to move through you. I complain a lot. I put up with things I don’t like for too long before I say anything. I can also be fed steak in a medieval pillory for over an hour and a half. I can take a lot of pain and keep going.

We went on a hike in Steamboat. Maybe five miles altogether. Two miles uphill, with rocks. At first, I love it, then the resistance sets in. I hate this. Why am I doing this? It’s beautifully sunny out and we’re going to see a waterfall, but I have no sunscreen on and I’m worried about getting burned. My masochist is on. Resist. Resist. Resist. Maybe we can get out of this somehow. My asthma starts flaring. I know I logically don’t need my inhaler (I’ve lived with asthma my entire life), but it’s on right now and I’m feeling dragged down. I don’t need to stop. We’re not stopping. We have a goal to make. We have a destination to get to. I am with a beautiful man who’s basically running up this hill like a gazelle; there is no stopping. I’m trying to calm my asthma and my masochist. They’re likely one and the same.

Somehow, I started saying to myself, we want to be here. The masochist always resists life. How can we accept it?

We want to be here, and we breathed a little deeper

We want to be here, and our legs moved with more speed

We want to be here, and our lungs started opening up

It might be one of the first times that my inner critic became my best friend AND opened my lungs. I’m used to motivating myself through hard things. I’m not used to it making it easier to breathe while my heart rate is at 100 beats per minute and the elevation’s going up by 600 ft. We’ll keep trying it.

Until tomorrow,

Valerie