Funny how I miss those things I did before the house of me fell apart. That's the problem with having to make any effort to do anything not yours. I've done so much and made so much happen and in rebuilding my house of me I can't think of things I got done! That motivation method is so negative that it's got the memories out of me because of turning up anxiety to process into planning things with others or to enrich myself. The pathway to recovery is those roots of things that worked around the negative process.* My interest in Japan, eutopias (fictional and real attempts), thick media (books, movies, plays, and music)... is all me. It's no wonder I kept running away from people and situations when it got good. The other people got so sincere that it forced the hollowness of what I was going in to the light. I thought if I pushed hard enough I could get what I thought they were getting out of an activity. I mean fuck, table top rpgs I liked my dice and the journal of me as the character was more interesting than everything else. Fuck, I guess it's not only abusers who get make stories up with others. With the right trust you don't need control everything... that you can handle the emotions of others going places you didn't want to go. I guess the "illusion of control" goes both ways...
*: editing note - In some ways I had to of enjoyed what I did in libraries and enriching myself. I got to build connections between these partitions of self.