As I’ve come to acquire more knowledge about myself, introspection spirals forth. It does take more than introspection to garner success … one has to put in the work to get the desired result. Or, in my case, a different result than what I’ve been getting.
If I were to mirror the clearest reflection of transparency, I’ve been used as a S.O.S. mechanism from the moment sperm collided with my mother’s egg.
S.O.S.—meaning Saving Others’ Souls.
I do not doubt that my mother had this belief—that carrying the seed of her first love would solidify their relationship into happily ever after. She never once factored in the possibility of another female, or an additional seed, around the same time. She wanted me to save their relationship’s soul but things fell apart.
This next part I say with no disrespect to my mother’s parents—the ones who raised me—but I served as an S.O.S. for them too. The actions of my mother impacted their approach with my upbringing. I experienced a level of strictness that my uncles claimed was nonexistent during their youth. By achieving what my mom could not, as well as going beyond, I served as vindication for my grandparents—that their parenting wasn’t flawed and the tragedy associated with my mom was an isolated incident.
Even away from my family, my sense of nurturing and understanding drew people to me. Unfortunately, it was closer to usury than an equal give and take. Many times—from networking to romantic relationships—the line between helpful friend and therapist was smudged, giving fuel for the S.O.S. initiatives to continue.
This cycle—the insatiable devouring of my empath—has taken its toll.
For every disassociation from one draining connection, another one or two rush to fill the gap. It is not always the same each time. One person could constantly want advice. Another person may constantly need an ear. So … it’s not always the same well, not always the same quantity. Regardless, the interaction affects me: unfortunately, not always instantly and not always with the same intensity.
I am at a crossroads.
My empath is sticky with the remnants of a frayed spirit connection. Although the person is no longer physically present, because of the way we bonded, there are moments where the presence is very dominant. While I’m going through the steps to disentangle, other external happenings have catapulted a sense of urgency associated with finding my own stride.
It’s hard to feel the utmost happiness for others when your vocal cords are hoarse with grief—grief that is still ongoing. It’s even more challenging to explain this sensation without giving off a wrong signal. Therefore, in my mind, the best attack against that was to shake up my routine.
It’s funny how even in the “shaking up”, some familiar visitors have reared their heads. A few correspondences, which started on the uptick, are marred with circumstances. I’m not saying that these people have caused these things to happen. As a matter of fact, I don’t know enough to make that judgment call. However, the emotional wavelengths which echo my cycle’s pattern went from mumbling to screaming. Mainly because now, the balance of interaction has shifted … to where a person needs to vent or doesn’t really have much to talk about outside of the misfortune.
One way to curb this is for me to set the tone and even redirect to another topic. I admit, since I still have an abundance of patience in letting others sound off (or maybe because I’m taught that constantly interjecting is rude), by the time there’s a good breaking point, I find myself choosing to end the conversation.
Think about it in this way. Let’s say that good topics, positive thoughts, and light conversation represent dust, but venting and troubling conversation represents a vacuum cleaner. Once a person cleans up the dust, she puts the vacuum cleaner away. That is how I feel if there is too much imbalance in conversation. I’m like that person wanting to unplug the vacuum cleaner.
So … this puts forth another question … does my “shaking up” have to involve a whole lot of “new”—as in new people? Perhaps not. Maybe the sense of urgency placed me on a detour.
I must participate in a different type of S.O.S.: the Satiation of my Own Soul. My own soul’s pleasure should not be dependent on “saving others’ souls”. In plain terms, energy should be invested—not by bringing more outsiders in but by harvesting techniques beneficial to my own self-care.
I’m uncertain how feasible it’s going to be for me to do both simultaneously … could spell a recipe for disaster. As a result, I’m slowing down the locomotive on the new so I can rev up the engine on me.
I must go beyond examining my cycle. I have to experiment to see what things work and what doesn’t.
Is there anything that I’m doing that flashes, “The doctor is always in” instead of “Please make an appointment” or “Currently on vacation”?
The next few entries after this will outline my journey—along with some of the tools I am adopting—to change my narrative.
Just because one was made a part of a cycle doesn’t mean one is obligated to stay. I hope this statement is also true for me.