A Month of Reflection: Day Nine
You know how really hot water feels cold? And like if you have supersede, the world moves slowly. What if I love myself so much, I am actually harming myself?
There is no end to anything right?
I remember sitting in a classroom and learning about parallel lines, how you know they are parallel because they go on forever and never touch. I would ask how we know they go forever, and was told to look at the arrows on the end, they indicate the lines continue on. So I used to imagine the would just full of these lines that people had drawn and sent into infinity. We would all be being crossed at every point of our being by these imaginary lines.
Something else I thought about them, maybe they connect all of us.
If you do make it to the metaphorical end, do you just arrive back at the beginning? Like if I keep heating water up will it eventually freeze? Is there a different type of freezing inside of a greater world of temperatures. Will the heat get cold?
Or how we tend to pick on those we like. Is that just the manifestation of this very idea but applied to interpersonal relationships?
In the brief blurb about this piece, I wrote about self love crossing that line. Can I love myself into a hatred? Maybe it isn’t a hatred of me, but loving yourself creates a hatred of others?
I am not asking because I fear I have begun to truly hate myself, I ask because I am trying to find my limit, at what point of loving myself does it become an inherently bad thing. Will I begin to poison myself?
Maybe this is all because I think entirely too deeply and am entirely too new at the idea of radically and unapologetically loving myself. The things is though, once I accepted myself for exactly who I am in this moment, I became in fucking love with myself. Like thinking about myself while making love to my husband. I mean thinking of him too, but you best know that I am also aware of how lucky he is to be with me. I too am very lucky to have him, but this is my blog. Like I find myself being in awe of my existence.
With this brings a different kind of criticism, a kind kind. Like I still am pushing myself to be better, grow and learn, but the voice in me coaching that forward momentum is about to get results without screaming at me and being cruel. I feel more motivated smoky by the benefits of the internal work I am doing. I find myself wasting time watching a TV show and deciding I would rather be in my head and I meditate instead. Like I would rather be in my own head than anywhere else.
Maybe that’s just a natural thing because our own minds are the safest places we can exist. For some of us it feels like the only place I am free to fully exist and be myself. So why would I want to be anywhere else?
Obviously I am still participating in real life, I have a child I am very present for, but when it comes to my me time, I want to be alone. I want to sit with my thoughts, not in isolation but I feel like it’s the only time lately I can process the world. I can’t have the influence of others involved when I am trying to understand my perspectives of this life. I am too easily swayed.
I’ve always joked about having a god complex, but that was always just more of a covert way to cover up my insecurities. And I cannot stress enough that I do not think I am better than people, however, I think I am more open than many. I think I am kinder and more patient than many. I think I am more experienced than many. I want to say that. I want to talk with my chest and be proud, but I truly have no idea how to, and I am scared to try and love myself into it because my biggest fear is becoming some jaded and vapid narcissist.
I know myself, I know my experience, I know that I am an empathic person and that I have had colorful experiences in a wide range of different situations and I have learned something from every single one.
I think I am still just a bit offended by something someone said to me yesterday. I was educating them about their idiotic ideology when it comes to abortion and that told me that shaving my head and moving to Ohio doesn’t mean I have lived more than people who stayed back home. And no shit? No fucking shit. Maybe I am too sensitive that I let these things get to me. Maybe it’s my own fault for engaging with people who don’t seem to be able to use the critical thinking portion of their brain. But how do I not seem like I am high and mighty then? How do I say, you’re too ignorant for me?
Hey, maybe that’ll just work. If you don’t realize abortion is basic healthcare, then you are too ignorant for me. And it isn’t my hair, or my skin color, or where I live that lets me know that. It is my moral belief that every single person has the right to body autonomy. That it is my body and it will forever be my choice.
Maybe the fact that I am rambling here and writing this all out if just a huge sign that I care far too much. That I overanalyze every single word people say to me, internalize it and try to make sense of all of it. Maybe I need to stop putting energy into others and just focus on me for awhile. It isn’t my job to educate everyone…
It’s just so fucking frustrating to know these people, know where they came from, have come from the same place. I can look back at my life and see the growth and change of my being, yet I feel like I look at these other people I grew up with, these people who never left or experienced anything beyond the tiny suburbia that is Marcellus, NY, and I just feel…apathetic.
You lazy shits.
Of course, maybe this entire piece has just been fueled by confusion and hormones. It isn’t my best, but it was one thousand words. I did day nine. I fucking showed up for myself, Like I always do.
Thank you for reading as always. Thank you for the space, kindness and patience. Thank you for your humanity and empathy. Thank you for choosing to be here with me, I love you. Below are some links to allow to make and extend a connection to help another soul. Love, light, and community<3
GoFundMe for Fadi's Son's Medical Expenses
GoFundMe to Help Save Mohammad's Family in Gaza
Operation Olive Branch's One-Click Email Page
Code Pink's Petition to Congress to Stop the Arms Sales to Israel