Waiting for the brain pill and coffee river to trickle its magic between all my synaptic crevices. Welcome to Valley Corpus Callosum. Population: my agitated soul.
I've decided. Each day has a personality. I've been doing that lately. Personifying the inanimate and abstract. Isn't that the mark of a crazy person?
Today's personality is oxymoronic. As I lay in bed this morning, delaying my day - wondering whether I should leap up and seize life or say fuck this shit and wallow in it - I was aware of two opposing spirits: Primal Anxiety and Confidence that the storm around and inside of me is fine.
I am the most uncomfortable I've been in a long time. Downright disturbed, distraught, tortured. Upset that I don't have it in me to DO things the way I was before in work and personal life.
But.
I daresay, I am almost eagerly accepting that this turmoil is absolutely necessary and is only turmoil in a moment along a spectrum of evolution. I can't put my finger on anything solid. I try to hold aside the judgment for my current inability to perform as well outwardly as I was before this madness took hold. "Temporary and necessary," I repeat to myself.
My boss compared this evolution to a platyhelminthes - a bilateral type creature that propels its soft but flexible body around with little flappy wing things. It's not pretty to look at but it is an interim stage.
The funny part is - we're ALWAYS in an interim stage. There is never completion. Not until you're dead in the ground. But even higher level than that- evolution-wise, we are all just in bodies that represent one stage of development in a longer chain yet to manifest.
At the soul level, I am playthelminthes. Unpretty. More obviously interim than polished.
I feel absolutely useless. Unmotivated. Even hopeless. Everything I have been seems to have become limp or rotted or awkward to handle. Everything I am becoming is still too soft, too raw, and equally awkward to handle.
So much crazy in one little body and mind.
I am seeking the support I need and spending time alone. Allowing myself to cultivate Chance, whoever she is. Once I have the who, there will be the what. Then, the how. And once that process is completed, I will be independently grounded.
Another thing about me. Empathy. The lack of definition and the gigantic empathy that consumes my being - is a gift. I think it was forged in genetics and an ill suited environment. I hold space for those around me, keeping them safe and supported. In doing so, I often temporarily lose track of where I end and they begin. Their thoughts and feelings become my own, and so theirs to mine. It makes loving intense and passionate.
It also makes the quest for self and independence an uncomfortable one. I have to keep these relationships at arm's length while I further forge around the empathy.
I want to help. I want to listen. I want to use this gift. But I can't do that properly until I define me.
That sense of shared space and union I hold for others, I realize that to lose one's self in another is not actually a bad thing at all (despite how distasteful that is for some) - it's the nature of empathy. That redefinition around two is the beauty from which healing springs!
It's the post-space holding snapping back that suffers in my undeveloped sense of self. That's why I must dial it in. Why I must do this. I have to get that in check to fulfill my best in this short freaking life.
This kind of evolution is not important to some people. Some people are okay with being defined solely by their environment. I have been that person. My own reason was I am programmed to discount myself.
Now, though, I am aware such evolution IS important though to ME. And, what's more is, I'm finally recognizing that what is important to me IS NOT something to dismiss, criticize, shame, or destroy. It is something to pay attention to. Love and nourish, even if it doesn't look/feel/sound the same as someone else's that I admire or wish to be more like.
No, for the first time in my life, I genuinely wish to be more like me.
I've decided. Each day has a personality. I've been doing that lately. Personifying the inanimate and abstract. Isn't that the mark of a crazy person?
Today's personality is oxymoronic. As I lay in bed this morning, delaying my day - wondering whether I should leap up and seize life or say fuck this shit and wallow in it - I was aware of two opposing spirits: Primal Anxiety and Confidence that the storm around and inside of me is fine.
I am the most uncomfortable I've been in a long time. Downright disturbed, distraught, tortured. Upset that I don't have it in me to DO things the way I was before in work and personal life.
But.
I daresay, I am almost eagerly accepting that this turmoil is absolutely necessary and is only turmoil in a moment along a spectrum of evolution. I can't put my finger on anything solid. I try to hold aside the judgment for my current inability to perform as well outwardly as I was before this madness took hold. "Temporary and necessary," I repeat to myself.
My boss compared this evolution to a platyhelminthes - a bilateral type creature that propels its soft but flexible body around with little flappy wing things. It's not pretty to look at but it is an interim stage.
The funny part is - we're ALWAYS in an interim stage. There is never completion. Not until you're dead in the ground. But even higher level than that- evolution-wise, we are all just in bodies that represent one stage of development in a longer chain yet to manifest.
At the soul level, I am playthelminthes. Unpretty. More obviously interim than polished.
I feel absolutely useless. Unmotivated. Even hopeless. Everything I have been seems to have become limp or rotted or awkward to handle. Everything I am becoming is still too soft, too raw, and equally awkward to handle.
So much crazy in one little body and mind.
I am seeking the support I need and spending time alone. Allowing myself to cultivate Chance, whoever she is. Once I have the who, there will be the what. Then, the how. And once that process is completed, I will be independently grounded.
Another thing about me. Empathy. The lack of definition and the gigantic empathy that consumes my being - is a gift. I think it was forged in genetics and an ill suited environment. I hold space for those around me, keeping them safe and supported. In doing so, I often temporarily lose track of where I end and they begin. Their thoughts and feelings become my own, and so theirs to mine. It makes loving intense and passionate.
It also makes the quest for self and independence an uncomfortable one. I have to keep these relationships at arm's length while I further forge around the empathy.
I want to help. I want to listen. I want to use this gift. But I can't do that properly until I define me.
That sense of shared space and union I hold for others, I realize that to lose one's self in another is not actually a bad thing at all (despite how distasteful that is for some) - it's the nature of empathy. That redefinition around two is the beauty from which healing springs!
It's the post-space holding snapping back that suffers in my undeveloped sense of self. That's why I must dial it in. Why I must do this. I have to get that in check to fulfill my best in this short freaking life.
This kind of evolution is not important to some people. Some people are okay with being defined solely by their environment. I have been that person. My own reason was I am programmed to discount myself.
Now, though, I am aware such evolution IS important though to ME. And, what's more is, I'm finally recognizing that what is important to me IS NOT something to dismiss, criticize, shame, or destroy. It is something to pay attention to. Love and nourish, even if it doesn't look/feel/sound the same as someone else's that I admire or wish to be more like.
No, for the first time in my life, I genuinely wish to be more like me.
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