Hello everyone! The Unleashed One here. I don't really have a fancy introduction to walk you through the next couple of entries. I suppose we should get down to the meat and potatoes of everything, shall we?
Today was a nice day to be out. The sun was out and the weather did not feel as cold. Rarely do I wear pink but I decided to do so.
One, to try something out of my norm. Two, because I was not in the mood to wear a jacket and hoped the fuzzy pink pullover would work as a great substitute. It wasn’t planned but Jazz was also wearing pink. I thought it was pretty cool that she noticed it first before I commented on the similarity.
As I accompanied Jazz on her side hustle, the best way to describe how events played out was a role reversal.
Usually, it would be her with the funny comments and I’d chime in every now and then, being content with the silence. This time, I was the quippy one, desiring joyous noises while her energy seemed preoccupied and scattered. Even the music, which would be a cool compliment on drives when energy was upbeat or when we didn’t have much to talk about, was off, downright annoying.
She does tell me to switch the station if and when I don’t like the music, but I’ve never been one to touch another’s radio unless asking. Heck, I don’t let anyone touch the sound system in Finesse when I’m driving.
I did other activities to preoccupy myself but it was one of those rare moments when I’d rather be talking. I rediscovered how much I liked playing Hearts electronically since installing the game on my phone, slightly more than Gin Rummy.
I didn’t want to hear any sad music. I didn’t want to feel any sad vibes. But I know better than anyone that just because you switch the radio station, it doesn’t always trickle down to emotions or mentality.
When one is in the clutches of depression … in the cage of the hamster wheel where anxiety and disappointment keep the bars rusty … it’s not that simple.
When you are in a situation where one is dialed into the darkness and the other is finding one’s way out, the one that just got a sprinkle of happiness and hope doesn’t want to be in a position to get sucked back in. At the same time, that person wonders if shining in happiness will put the other person deeper in despair.
All I can do is be there. As much as I can anyway. To delve too much into trying to proactively heal and save is what got my empath unhealthy in the first place. Just like I am doing my own work and having my own process, I have to sit back and let her find her way.
An egotistical thought creeps in for a millisecond: For decades, I did not have this consistent support when I was going through the chaos. Key word is consistent because most bailed, didn’t really care and only wanted me to be there for them, or wanted me to circle back when I was more positive. That applies to those I dared to be transparent with. Oftentimes, I battled the madness, lonely and alone. How fortunate she is to have so many who really see her light and try to help her, consistent people in her corner, like me.
Then, I realized how scathing, mean, and unrelated the thought was and cast it aside. I then dared to go beyond the dismissal and get to the details behind my Shadow’s appearance. By Shadow, I refer to the element of my Ego that can be hypercritical and displacingly selfish.
In the past, I did feel let down by people who gave me a different reaction when I showed them my vulnerability.
From those experiences, I am learning that I cannot measure people’s reactions based on what I would have done.
I cannot assume that others have levels of empathy and sympathy.
I cannot surmise that everyone has common sense or walks around with knowledge of unspoken rules of etiquette. They have a right to not want to be around me when I am not that calm, objective person they know me to be that can listen with compassion and give them an answer on the spot. They have a right to use the question, “How are you feeling?” just as a lead-in to get their dump on.
I also have a right to decide whether based on those responses how they rank in my life or if they need to remain in my life at all. That is why, over the years, the number of people has shrunk. I wasn’t angry; I just knew they weren’t in alignment with being lifetime members.
I do believe that there can be divergence in how one sees life, perceives the world. I even believe that some differences can provide learning and growth.
But that is different from having people in your life that balk at having to navigate through conflict, confrontation, and struggle.
I confess that for my core friends, the individuals I refer to as family, the ability to navigate through conflict, confrontation, and struggle without having the quick response to clap back defensively (without truly hearing what’s being said) and activate elimination is important to me. You can’t be at my core if you get cold the moment something I say, do, or don’t say or do causes you to get hot.
However, if I don’t speak to all of the emotions that I have, even the not-so-pleasant ones, I do a disservice to myself because I don’t want to have to wear the masks around the people I want to fully trust. Also, I don’t do anything half-ass with people I want to have as lifetime people.
The best relationships aren’t those that never have conflict. The best ones are those people who can recognize each other’s emotional language and express maturity to do what is needed to work through it with conviction and compassion. In those connections is where the greatest love flourishes, and even when the temperature of love changes, the ability to do the former marks sustainability.
I thought about the Christmas movie I looked at on Netflix a few weeks ago. It didn’t make me feel sad, probably because it was more a comedy than anything. Honestly, I haven’t watched any romantic movies that weren’t comedy-based in many years. I wish so many holidays weren’t marketed to couples. It makes people wish they were in one, sad they aren’t in one, or bring back the times they were in one.
There are some series that I’ve been watching but not from the lens of finding romance, per se. With Love at First Sight, it was the concept. With The Circle, it was about the strategy to get the money and that question if one can really be as popular or more popular representing yourself. Love Island is for research purposes.
Perhaps I’ll challenge myself to engage in one sappy romantic movie this year. Not Sleepless in Seattle or You’ve Got Mail because I’ve seen those already and absolutely love those. But maybe a modern-day one, just to see if I can get through it without “trauma” feels.
In retrospect, I should have ordered a smaller size in this colorful blazer I’m wearing. I tend to order my jackets a size bigger to allow for layering and increased arm definition. Yet, this item was on final sale, and I didn’t want to take the chance of ordering the Medium from Shein, and it ended up being too small. On the website, it can be hit or miss. I also prefer trying on my clothing.
I do like how everything came together. Even the headwrap, which I originally wasn’t going to wear, but I had a perceived hairdo fail, which led to the coverup. I have to go work out later anyway, so perhaps it was for the best.
One of the places that I was looking at for 2022 fell through. Sure, I could have asked if he was willing to negotiate, but I want to see what else is out there. Also, there may be some requirements that may have to end up being electives if there isn't any place that fits the price range and the criteria. I am hopeful that more selections will be presented at the start of the year.
This new search has dug up some Treasure Chest Trauma. That is the name that I've given stuff that I haven't given myself the chance to process, grieve, or tackle. In most cases, it had nothing to do with avoidance, just being so busy with surviving that processing emotional stuff seemed trivial.
I reflected on how much I missed the semblance of home and ambiance of community at the first place I resided when I first moved to New Jersey. At the second location, although pleased at having the spot for myself (at least for a brief while before my relationship with my ex-husband), I always perceived it as a space of transition ... to make due until I got to where I really wanted to be.
It didn't feel like almost nine years from that place to the current one. The current one should have served as what I deemed the final move. And now ... which I'll discuss once everything is said and done ... it isn't the final move, just another transition.
What it all boils down to is that I've attempted to recreate the physical manifestation of what I was forced to leave behind in 2008 ... and have yet to find it.
I believe my body is still fighting the effects of the booster. I stayed determined to go to the gym but I couldn't produce as much output as I would have liked. I gave myself credit for what I could do and drove home to finish up at the house. Today was the day I would have done my fast, but my body wasn't in that space, so I did break it to eat something when I got the shakes.
Jazz had me try some of the protein brownie bites she'd made. They were rather good. They weren't very dense at all.
I am going to call it a night and see if I can have a better go at the gym tomorrow, preferably in the morning instead of going after work.
Wish me luck.