Eventually
I am analyzing again. I think that's a good sign.
But I've been noticing people lately. I get stopped, frequently, by friends and neighbors and sometimes strangers asking me how I'm doing. It's a small town. Word gets around.
There are all different kinds of people, of course, but it seems the people I speak with lately fall into a couple of different categories: the needers and the givers. I don't mind either category, but my reaction to them depends entirely on which category I am currently in myself.
The needers are the ones who need me to tell them I'm doing well, that everything is going fine, and that I know everything will be okay. If I am actually feeling okay, I can give them that script, and they go away feeling happy for me and admiring my "strength." If I am currently needy myself, I try to transform them into givers instead. I tell them what a hard day it's been and how I'm worried for my safety and sanity. I'm more adept at being a giver myself, however, and I tend, even then, to put a spin on it and add, "but I know we just have to get through right now and it will all be over soon." Most people shift into giver mode quite readily, and they feed my neediness with a hug, a smile, a sympathetic gestures of some kind. Yesterday, a lady in the parking lot gave me half a dozen cinnamon roles out of her car. She was an example of a needer that turned into a giver. Those types go away feeling better about themselves having helped me out, and I feel better having been helped.
Honesty is a powerful tool to transform people into better versions of themselves. Those who would be casual "Have a nice day" people turn into "How can I help?" people when approached with vulnerability. At least around here.
Some people can't shift into givers as easily, though, and I usually transform myself into that role when I encounter those, even when I don't have the energy for it. I feed their need to be seen as compassionate and helpful even though they aren't doing anything. I give them the lines they want to hear, even though they are draining me even more because what I really need is someone to cry with me, not about me.
We all need our turn to be needers, though. And we all need to take our opportunities to be givers. Being a giver can frequently pull us out of neediness and make us feel better about ourselves
as long as we give ourselves a chance to need, too, at least every once-in-a-while.
It's an interesting balance, however. I just recognized a hypocrisy in what I stated above. It's quite presumptuous of me to assume that those I transform into givers walk away feeling better about themselves when I do not always feel better as a giver myself. It depends on what kind of energy I have when approaching the situation, and whether or not I feel coerced into the role. Maybe I tell myself we both walk away happier for it because that is what I choose to believe.
But I don't think so.
Now we are getting into the idea of discernment--that almost subconscious sense we have as our spirits speak to one another. I do not attempt to transform needers into givers when I do not sense they are capable. I trust my discernment to show me the appropriate direction to take. However, my discernment is not up to par when I have been recently traumatized or am feeling currently harassed or worn out. The caring meter dips quite low during those episodes. I am a needer during those times, regardless of whether anyone is available to give. That's when oversharing happens, or withdrawing happens.
Now I'm rambling. Oh well. Welcome to my stream of consciousness-ish babble. At least I feel like thinking and writing again instead of just constantly running around or sitting around or stuffing my face or starving myself or sleeping too much or not sleeping at all or spinning and spinning and spinning.
I literally did that today. Spun around in circles for a long time. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back and forth as I spun to feel the strange disorientation while still trusting my feet to keep me upright. I let go of trying to connect my brain to my feet and just trusted the muscle memory in my legs to know what to do. It was a fun experiment, disconnecting my head from the rest of my body. I laughed as I did it, with my arms stretched out wide. A physical representation of a mental exercise I employ almost constantly.
Spinning.
My new normal.
Like this blog post, random and disjointed.
Like my life, scattered and strange and disconnected.
Eventually, the room stops rotating.
Eventually, things fall back into place.
Eventually, all the swirls of color and stripes of light come back into focus.
Eventually, my feet reconnect with my brain.
Eventually.
I wonder
how far away is eventually?
I keep on almost getting there, and then...not.
But I get closer every time. I'll get there. Eventually.
But I've been noticing people lately. I get stopped, frequently, by friends and neighbors and sometimes strangers asking me how I'm doing. It's a small town. Word gets around.
There are all different kinds of people, of course, but it seems the people I speak with lately fall into a couple of different categories: the needers and the givers. I don't mind either category, but my reaction to them depends entirely on which category I am currently in myself.
The needers are the ones who need me to tell them I'm doing well, that everything is going fine, and that I know everything will be okay. If I am actually feeling okay, I can give them that script, and they go away feeling happy for me and admiring my "strength." If I am currently needy myself, I try to transform them into givers instead. I tell them what a hard day it's been and how I'm worried for my safety and sanity. I'm more adept at being a giver myself, however, and I tend, even then, to put a spin on it and add, "but I know we just have to get through right now and it will all be over soon." Most people shift into giver mode quite readily, and they feed my neediness with a hug, a smile, a sympathetic gestures of some kind. Yesterday, a lady in the parking lot gave me half a dozen cinnamon roles out of her car. She was an example of a needer that turned into a giver. Those types go away feeling better about themselves having helped me out, and I feel better having been helped.
Honesty is a powerful tool to transform people into better versions of themselves. Those who would be casual "Have a nice day" people turn into "How can I help?" people when approached with vulnerability. At least around here.
Some people can't shift into givers as easily, though, and I usually transform myself into that role when I encounter those, even when I don't have the energy for it. I feed their need to be seen as compassionate and helpful even though they aren't doing anything. I give them the lines they want to hear, even though they are draining me even more because what I really need is someone to cry with me, not about me.
We all need our turn to be needers, though. And we all need to take our opportunities to be givers. Being a giver can frequently pull us out of neediness and make us feel better about ourselves
as long as we give ourselves a chance to need, too, at least every once-in-a-while.
It's an interesting balance, however. I just recognized a hypocrisy in what I stated above. It's quite presumptuous of me to assume that those I transform into givers walk away feeling better about themselves when I do not always feel better as a giver myself. It depends on what kind of energy I have when approaching the situation, and whether or not I feel coerced into the role. Maybe I tell myself we both walk away happier for it because that is what I choose to believe.
But I don't think so.
Now we are getting into the idea of discernment--that almost subconscious sense we have as our spirits speak to one another. I do not attempt to transform needers into givers when I do not sense they are capable. I trust my discernment to show me the appropriate direction to take. However, my discernment is not up to par when I have been recently traumatized or am feeling currently harassed or worn out. The caring meter dips quite low during those episodes. I am a needer during those times, regardless of whether anyone is available to give. That's when oversharing happens, or withdrawing happens.
Now I'm rambling. Oh well. Welcome to my stream of consciousness-ish babble. At least I feel like thinking and writing again instead of just constantly running around or sitting around or stuffing my face or starving myself or sleeping too much or not sleeping at all or spinning and spinning and spinning.
I literally did that today. Spun around in circles for a long time. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back and forth as I spun to feel the strange disorientation while still trusting my feet to keep me upright. I let go of trying to connect my brain to my feet and just trusted the muscle memory in my legs to know what to do. It was a fun experiment, disconnecting my head from the rest of my body. I laughed as I did it, with my arms stretched out wide. A physical representation of a mental exercise I employ almost constantly.
Spinning.
My new normal.
Like this blog post, random and disjointed.
Like my life, scattered and strange and disconnected.
Eventually, the room stops rotating.
Eventually, things fall back into place.
Eventually, all the swirls of color and stripes of light come back into focus.
Eventually, my feet reconnect with my brain.
Eventually.
I wonder
how far away is eventually?
I keep on almost getting there, and then...not.
But I get closer every time. I'll get there. Eventually.
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