I've been feeling restrained and shy about writing here. There are probably a few reasons for this.
1. My dad's negative judgments on anyone who expresses emotion in a healthy self-aware way. He thinks therapy is for losers and emotions should be bottled up or denied. (Of course then he inevitably explodes into uncontrollable rages so that everyone else has to deal with his emotions.) I hear his unsympathetic voice in my head sometimes, especially since his most recent tantrum. It's a damn heartbreaking voice to have in my head following me around all day. My parents were highly emotionally reactive furniture throwers, and my job was to be their marriage counselor. It wasn't safe for me to mention my feelings, of course. I push through these fears via journaling, but I still get anxiety, and debate whether to password lock this thing when I feel judged or ashamed for putting my private feelings on display, even anonymously. It takes courage to admit when I'm sad. It's scary to be vulnerable. But if I don't, I'll wind up like my parents. So here I am. Hi!
2. Covid era social media. I have spent most of this time laying low, tiptoeing around, terrified of triggering fragile psyches, only to find that not everyone is so careful. Every few months there's a new tantrum, stalker, or rejection. An antisemite I blocked a few months ago started texting me from various emails this week, nightly at 2am. Last week I received a creepy box of chocolates with no return address or note. Yesterday a real-life guy friend who hyper-obsessively messaged me throughout 2020, unfollowed me, but didn't unfollow our mutual friend of 20 years. It's going to be so awkward when I see him again! I felt obligated to reply to his excessive messages, only to be discarded when he realized he wasn't going to get sex out of our friendship, at least that's my suspicion. It's weird because he texted during my social media break to ask if I was alive, so he obviously cared? But when I returned a short while later he'd removed me. People are weird, man. I can't keep up with all these antics. I'm still processing the 11 paragraph email from the stalker who resurfaced 10 years later to accuse me of sending her telepathic messages this summer. One problem at a time please! Your call will be answered in the order it was received. Forever feeling like a burned out 24-hr crisis hotline volunteer. Is this normal?
On the bright side, I am just grateful to be still alive. I've been diligently supporting myself with self care and practicing self acceptance of any emotions that come up. I started dancing again, and eating again. Feeling hopeful for spring.
I'm so grateful that my bond with M has morphed into something that feels surprisingly stable and mutually supportive. He's been doing the work! And so have I.
I'm grateful that, even if I'm sensitive, I at least have enough insight to understand the reasons behind people's cruelty, and that it usually has to do with their own sensitivities, fears of rejection or abandonment, addictions, traumas, mental health, etc, and isn't personal. I have to just go 'oh weird' and re-focus my attention on my own inner life, lest I lose myself too much in someone else's bad dream. When we see shit on the sidewalk, we don't pick it up, wipe it all over our faces and complain that it's shit. No. We notice it, we say 'oh gross', and we keep walking forward until the offensive scent has faded.
Another thing I'm grateful for... I had an actually very positive social media experience this week, in which I shared a comforting analogy on a popular account, and my words were so well received that the moderators pinned my post and I kept getting notified of positive feedback for days. I thought of a metaphor that soothed me, so I took a risk and shared it with thousands of strangers. The unexpected validation felt like rain after a long drought. Maybe my tiny voice actually has some power to bring healing to others, even in these isolating times.
9:42 a.m. - 2022-02-02