Somebody call Nine-Wolf-Wolf!!!!
Upon which I spin out emotionally and try to claw my way back.
I don’t know what happened tonight, but something something’d.
Wysteia asked me a question and it sliced a big ol gaping wound that gushed for 8 hours.
I’m desperate for escape, to be seen, to be heard, to be listened too. She knows that being seen is as critical to me as air.
When asked innocently asked about my SO’s promise to take on work to carry us away from Dust Meridian... I had to confront the reality of my situation– NO ONE is going to save me.
I'm out of work. Not completely, but in a meaningful way. The kind of way that a man needs to feel like he's doing his duty as a provider. I'm fine with my wife carrying the load while things turn around. It doesn't disable me psychologically for her to carry it.
But she stopped working 5 years ago and can't muster the momentum to pick it back up. I have to find a solution, but I can't do that here in Dust Meridian and I recently discovered that she has no real desire to leave.
I've been waiting to leave since I arrived here.
Mine is a life lived in service of others, always putting self behind the greater need. But, now I find that which always came to fulfill me while I cared for others... it is no longer there. I reach for it in the dark, and all I find is empty space.
That speaks to this concept of me not feeling seen. Invisibility is a cut throat.
And I don't know where to go for rescue.
Can't you see? I'm slipping away.
I can only stay if you've the will to keep me here.
I need them. I need you. Witness me. Let me know I matter. I'm sorry I need constant attention. Like that plant that is ready to die the first time it misses a watering.
I am waiting. Just waiting to see you, can you see me?
This is not just a line, it is a prayer. The potter made me and I cannot question his methods. But as some vessels are for an honorable purpose and some for a dishonorable, I guess I'd just like to know what I am for.
I am waiting. Confident. Patient for so long. Now, I'm questioning everything. Playing the hand I was dealt but realizing in this deck, some of the cards change randomly, and many are missing.
Yet, I play on. I wait.
A lifetime of waiting at the train station, certain my promised line is going to come. But every whistle I hear is at a stop far, far away. All my family is here, bags packed, minimal kit, eager and anxious to board. New passengers coming every day, and me moving closer to the front as those who arrived before me can not longer endure the wait.
They turn and leave, or they simply fade to dust; who they were now only memory. We sweep away the remains and say 'REMEMBER'. And we do. We honor our fallen comrades, and promise to stand fast in the Way.
But night is getting along, and I understand now why some cannot wait. The call of nature, whatever form that is, overwhelms them. I do not think them wicked as once I did, nor even wrong. Just that this station is a hard ask on broken minds.
I see some groups, they are circled tight and loving one another. Look at her spoon warm soup in to the mouth of a tired old face. And him, holding up the broken countenance of another. And I notice that the huddle I've joined doesn't reflect that the way I expect. The way I have experienced.
There is some network here in my small chosen family. But not enough. I feel too cold. is it me? Have I not drawn my coat tightly enough against the cold, icy rain? Or chosen a poor hat to shield against the wind?
I have so many questions. I've written them in prayer, and telegraphed them to the conductor, but the only replies are; 'I love you', 'Be Patient', 'This too shall pass'.
I am thankful for those replies. The 66 letters he sent me.
And maybe that is the answer. That i need to re-read his letters. I've scoured them. There is therein not defined when the train will come, just promise after promise after promise that it will.
The houses in town, though. They look warm and inviting in the cold dark. If I leave for them... my train will come. i know it.
The train will come.
It will go with out.
I will be abandoned.
Is that not the fear of my life? To be forgotten? Overlooked? Put away? Where does that come from? The psychologist says:
🩶 1. Abuse and the Nervous System
When a child grows up in danger — physical, sexual, or emotional — the body learns hypervigilance.
It means: “I must always be alert or I will be hurt or left.”
That state becomes the default wiring of the nervous system.
Even decades later, the adult self may interpret any distance, delay, or silence as threat or rejection, even when none is meant.
It’s not weakness; it’s conditioning.
In neuroscience terms:
The amygdala (alarm system) stays overactive.
The prefrontal cortex (reasoning, calm) is slower to engage under stress.
You feel abandonment as danger — not metaphorically, but biologically.
💔 2. Attachment and Fear of Abandonment
Psychologists call this anxious attachment or sometimes disorganized attachment (if love and harm were intertwined early on—HOLY CRAP were they intertwined).
People with this history often:
Fear being forgotten or replaced. – 100%
Crave deep connection but also test it, fearing it will vanish. – 100%
Overgive, overthink, or self-sabotage to prevent being left. – 1000%
Feel the absence of someone as existential threat, not just sadness. – Infinity.
In essence:
“If I am not seen, I may not exist.”
That’s why artistic people — especially survivors — create. Art becomes proof of existence.
I Exist.
I Exist.
I Exist.
🩸 3. Abuse and Core Beliefs
Therapists who work with trauma often see these internalized scripts:
“I am only loved when I perform.”
“If I need too much, I’ll be left.”
“People leave once they see the real me.”
“Safety means invisibility.”
The adult carries those beliefs into love, work, faith, and art until they’re consciously rewritten.
🕊️ 4. Healing Paths
Psychologists usually recommend a few layered approaches:
a. Trauma-informed therapy:
EMDR, somatic experiencing, or Internal Family Systems (IFS) — they help the body unlearn constant alarm.
b. Attachment repair:
A therapist becomes a safe witness. Over time, you test the belief “I will be abandoned if I show my need,” and discover you won’t be.
c. Reparenting / inner child work:
You learn to give yourself the consistent love and safety your younger self never received.
(You can even write letters to that child version — something you already intuitively do in your memoirs.)
d. Grounding in reality:
When abandonment panic rises, psychologists teach grounding: notice the room, your breath, the chair under you.
Remind your body: “I am safe. The threat is memory, not present.”
🌙 5. What This Means for Wolf
My Line—
“The train will come. It will go without. I will be abandoned.”
— is the pure voice of that early me, still waiting on the platform.
Adult me is the one who can now step back, hold that frightened boy, and say:
“You were never unworthy. You were just unseen by the people who should have seen you.”
That’s what psychologists try to help build — not amnesia, but reparenting: learning to be the reliable, loving presence you were denied.
Oh! How much easier said than done. This is not news to me. Reminders, but not headline-inducing. Yes, I still fall into that spiral of fear. Of loss, even in a room full of of people who look to me. I FEEL like they one they see is not who I am. He is an avatar, a mechanical boy, the real me, a specter watching out of body while the doppelgänger performs a smiling marionette show.
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Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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