Woke to see the sunrise lighting the sky pink and making the buildings glow. Said good morning to my animal family while making coffee. There are three species in our quaranteam of four beings, not including thirteen plants. So there's actually seventeen living beings total. Eighteen if you count the green onions sprouting in water by the stove. And probably infinite other microorganisms and tiny bugs I don't want to know about, but we coexist peacefully.
It's day two of my partial digital cleanse, which is really a polite opportunity to block people who consistently bring me down and make me handle their problems for them while they continue to do nothing but ungratefully pity themselves, despite having so many things that I and others don't, such as an entire loving family, alive and well, and also despite not being mutually supportive since the discussion always revolves around his never ending suffering about things that seem easily fixable. I can't do it for you bro, you have to do that. :(
Maybe I've just run out of empathy, because at some point I need to protect my own mental health, instead of letting everyone else's problems leak into my own reality. Because that's what they want right? People want you to feel what they feel. And it was draining me dry, yet never improving.
So far, not talking to certain people feels like a relief. I think the anxiety I feel when they call means something. It's my intuition trying to warn me. I'm supposed to listen to my body's anxious reactions, and ignore the part of me that learned to help everyone at my own expense because that's what my mother did, because that's what women are expected to do, to self sacrifice, apparently.
But sometimes it's better to let people figure it out alone. The times I grew the most were when I was alone. I've been noticing lately that actually, some of the people with the best most supportive parents are having the most difficult time coping as adults. Because they still rely on other people to tell them what to do and never learned to stand on their own or self-soothe.
As someone who is motherless, maybe it's a little annoying to me to have people demand something from me that I have always done for myself, so why can't they? I see them as grown adults who were never weaned off their mother's breast, so they look silly to me, 39 and 40 year old men with their mouths pressed against their mom's tit, or any tit that will mother them, complaining until pacified with anyone's tit.
I've had to be my own mother for a long time now. I feel about a thousand years old today. It feels like I've been a woman for lifetimes. But I'd rather be who I am and where I am than anyone or anywhere else. I figure if all these men are running to me for comfort, I must exude comfort and stability within myself that they lack. I produce all this myself, within me, from the generations of women in me. How cool.
7:24 a.m. - 2021-01-30