Feelings Aren’t All Bad, and Sensitivity Doesn’t Make Me Weak.

“Don’t be so sensitive” they say, “don’t be dramatic!”  Words I am sick to death of hearing.  The world has bought into the lie that sensitivity, feelings, emotions, are all a bad thing.  We must all bury these things deep inside, and never reveal them, because they are frowned upon.  Emotions are part of what makes us human.  Therefore, being human is frowned upon.  Being real in a sea of fake is unacceptable.  They roll their eyes at you, tell you to man up, and dismiss you.

This gives the assholes of the world an advantage; they can be as a big of an asshole as they want, and your reaction is NOT their problem.  When they purposely hurt you, they do not have to take responsibility for that.  They tell you that you’re being “too sensitive,”  placing the blame on you instead.  They feel like their actions have no consequences, so long as they have a scape goat to shift the blame to.  Except they are wrong; there are consequences.  Only it will be too late when they are forced to face them.  These are the people that burn their own bridges, yet they laugh at the bridge for burning like it’s the bridge’s fault.  They trample the hearts of anyone who ever cared about them, yet they’re to blame for having a heart.  They will get to the end of their rope someday, and when they do, they will turn around.  They will search desperately for a bridge to lead them back, only to find them all burned and gone.  They will search for the ones they love, but they are nowhere to be found.  They got tired of their shit and walked a long time ago.  And the only one to blame will be themselves, because there is nothing and no one else left to pin it on.  Being an insensitive jerk doesn’t get you far in the end.  You might get to the top by stepping on everyone else on the way up, but you will be completely and utterly alone when you get there.

By being a sensitive soul, you get blamed and trampled by the world’s assholes constantly.  You are seen as “weak” and taken advantage of.  People hurt you deeply, but that sensitivity allows you to turn that blood into beautiful art.  You take the stones people throw at you and build with them.  You see what they don’t see: what matters.  You might cry harder, and hurt more, but you also love deeper and experience life to the fullest.  Society has it all wrong when they tell us feelings are bad.  Not all feelings are bad ones; love, joy, peace, gratitude, compassion, empathy and contentment are all pretty amazing if you ask me.

I would rather connect deeply with people than trample them.  I would rather be the one who gets hurt than the one who does the hurting.  I would rather be filled with love and compassion than fear and hate.  I may feel pain deeply, but I also feel the joys of my life deeply.  And that makes the pain worth it.

The ones who bury their emotions and ignore them, have a really hard time when they are forced to actually feel them.  They are not used to feeling like we are are.  It’s like a muscle: the more you use it, the stronger it gets.  If it goes unused, it atrophies.  And they say we are the weak ones.

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Finding My Voice

You are blind to yourself,
You see what you want to see.
All my life you’ve dug your claws in,
Refusing to set me free.

You’ve tried so hard to mold me
Into your perfect, little clone.
But there’s one thing you’ve forgotten:
I’ve got a mind of my own.

You put your voice in my thoughts,
And made your beliefs mine, too.
Have you ever thought for a second,
That I want to be ME, not you?

Now the question remains:
Who the hell am I?
What do I believe?
What do I want, and why?

The road to making you happy
Has taken me nowhere.
I am merely an empty shell,
Damaged beyond repair.

So here’s what’s going to happen;
This is how it will be:
I’ve got to have some space,
So I can finally just be me.

I need to find my voice,
To separate it from yours.
I am clawing my way out
Of these sheltering, closed doors.

This town is like a bubble,
Or even a black hole.
It makes me claustrophobic
And it stifles my soul.

My life can only be lived
By me, and me alone.
My decisions are mine to make,
My mistakes are mine to own.

I’m taking this hold you’ve had on me,
And I am finally letting it go.
Your happiness shouldn’t depend on me;
It is all up to you, you know.

I’ve got my own family,
And they deserve my best.
I just can’t give them that
With your weight upon my chest.

You’re going to push me and protest,
You’ll get angry and ice me out.
You might talk behind my back,
And for awhile, you will even pout.

But if there is one thing you’ve taught me,
It’s that life goes on.
Not one of us is perfect,
And someday we’ll all be gone.

So let’s agree to disagree;
Tomorrow is a brand new day.
Time may not heal all wounds,
But it can take the sting away.

There are so many things I’ll do differently,
Now that I am a mother, too.
But there is much that I can teach him,
Because I learned so much from you.

 

 

 

 

 

The City That Can’t Be Mapped.

Every morning I wake up and push aside the curtains…
What does my world look like today?
Every day is different, in this city that’s alive.
Though it’s the same old city, all the buildings have been rearranged.
The streets I knew yesterday have become an unfamiliar maze.
The weather is a fickle beast,
Sun one day and storms the next.
Only, there is no forecast, no weather maps.
I find myself on edge every morning,
Not knowing what my world will be today.
It seems it always storms while I’m lost in the city’s maze,
And the sun only shines when I have no where to be.
As soon as I learn the city again,
It is time for it to change.
The streets switch places and the buildings swap,
Before anyone can map it.
It’s never the same arrangement twice.
We are a city of confusion,
The city of the lost.
Everything looks familiar,
Yet nothing makes any sense.
The weather teases me with sun,
But always leaves me cold.
The street seemed full of promise,
But leads to another dead end.
I am tired from the mazes,
And shivering from the rain.
I crawl into the only thing familiar,
So I can wake up and do it all again.

 

 

My Fascination with Dreams and the Subconcious

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I’ve had very vivid dreams for as long as I can remember.  My imagination goes crazy at night, and this dark, twisted side of my subconscious emerges. I have had nightmares that would put Stephen King to shame.  I’ve dreamed about my own funeral, finding bodies under my bed, nightmares about mental hospitals, butcher shops and people I love dying; I dreamed that my son was dropped on his head on a sidewalk when he was a newborn (I was utterly devastated, and had to go check on him before I could even think about going back to bed)!  I’ve had countless dreams of tornados and plane crashes (all of which I’ve survived), dreams where I am in murky water surrounded by snakes & alligators, or that I’m in an ocean with huge waves where I am desperately trying to save my son, or I’m watching a horrible accident unfold right in front of me and I am helpless to stop it.   It is so real when I dream, I actually believe it’s happening.  It can be quite terrifying; I sometimes wake up hyperventilating, crying, sweating, and so very confused. Sometimes I almost scream in my sleep and wake my husband up (which says a lot, since he sleeps through anything)!

I have experienced a strange state of deep sleep/consciousness where I literally couldn’t take a breath-my brain told my body to breathe, but my body refused.  I was completely paralyzed-I couldn’t move a single muscle, breathe or even make a sound.  I  started suffocating; as if my mind, body and soul had completely disconnected. I was wide awake on the inside, but my body felt almost dead.  I remember laying there in my bed, only a teenager, honestly thinking, “this is it..I’m dying in my sleep right here, right now.”  No matter how loud my mind screamed at my lungs to breathe, they just wouldn’t do it.  I reached a point where I wasn’t even scared anymore-I just accepted what was happening.  Suddenly, my lungs gasped for breath!  I was so relieved.  It’s happened a few times since, and its always horrifying.

I still have a lot of nightmares, but not always.  I have had a handful of amazing dreams where I can fly, or talk to loved ones that have passed.  Most of the time my dreams are kind of dark, but it doesn’t bother me so much anymore. Maybe I have learned to embrace them instead of fear them, I don’t know.  I have dreams that predict the future, dreams that are so spiritual that I can’t shake the feeling they were more than just a dream, and some that are an entertaining mish-mash of my waking life.

I have been greatly intrigued by dreams since childhood…always seeking their meaning.  It is like tapping into a part of myself that I cannot access while awake.  It is so fascinating!  It’s a whole different side of me that I can’t access at will-I have to wait until it feels like revealing itself.  I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have full access to my subconscious, to unearth everything hidden away in there, see the repressed memories, and experience it’s uninhibited, limitless imagination while awake.  Does it hold the key to who I really am?  What could my subconscious teach me?  Would I have a greater understanding of myself and the world? Or would it be too overwhelming, too dark, and much more than I can handle?  I may never know.

I would love to hear everyone’s thoughts on this.  INFJs, do you all have vivid dreams as well?

Your Move.

Take off your mask.  Burn away the prejudices, stereotypes and judgements you cling to.  Throw away the person you “should” be according to everyone else.  Flush society’s standards down the toilet.  Run far, far away from the negativity surrounding you.  Bury your need to please everyone deep in the ground.  Throw the shackles that the world has chained to you straight into the depths of the sea.  Tell your demons that YOU are in control, not them…not anymore.  Let your skeleton out of the closet for all to see.  Take your social status and cultural norms out of the equation.  Erase all of your belongings from your mind, after all, they are just things.

What do you have left after that?  Who are you, underneath it all, at your core?  Look for the people who are still by your side when they see you raw and exposed-they are the ones who matter.  They didn’t run when your skeleton jumped out of your closet.  Are you defined by your money, success, or all the nice stuff you have?  Those things can be gone in an instant.  If you lost it all, would you lose yourself too?  Do you strive to live up to the world’s expectations or your own?  Do you hate your body because society’s narrow view says you should?  Your body is powerful and strong.  It is the vessel through which you experience the world.  It is the reason you can see the sunset, hear the birds singing, feel the rain on your skin, go for a walk, smell the flowers and taste coffee.  Life is beautiful and so are you.  And if you are a mother, you literally sacrificed your body to give your child life.  You made another human being, and that is so incredible!  Stretch marks are a small price to pay to have a healthy, beautiful baby in your arms.  Do you judge people based on their appearance?  Have you forgotten that looks fade with time, that who you are has nothing to do with what you look like?  If you married someone for their good looks, you will be very disappointed to wake up one morning, and see that they have aged.  You could be the sexiest person walking planet earth, but if you treat people like shit, you will still end up alone.

Who you are is what really matters.  If you feel like your worth is based on the car you drive, what your body looks like, or what your mom thinks, then the world has you fooled.  Those things are not important.  Don’t buy into the world’s bull shit.  Don’t lose yourself in the superficial standards that society has set in place.  Be you.  Do you.  Grow you.  Be the kind of person that this world needs more of.  Be the person that no one can say a bad thing about.  Be the person that you want your children to be.  Show this fake world what a real, raw, open, honest person looks like.  Own your demons and skeletons.  Own your mistakes.  Own your imperfections.  Everything you’ve been through has made you who you are-it can make you bitter or better, the choice is yours.  Be kind always.  You never know what a person is going through; your kindness can be what restores their faith in humanity, or the one thing that keeps them from jumping off a bridge.  Next time you are frustrated with this fake, cruel, selfish world, remember this: YOU can be something real in the sea of fake, the kind breath of fresh air in the midst of cruelty, and a generous, caring heart that lights up the selfish darkness.  Maybe you will inspire others to do the same, and at the very least, someone else’s dark day is a little brighter because of you. Making the world a better place starts with one person–you.  Your move.