It has always been like this and it will always be like this. Men just want me to fulfill some kind of fetish or fantasy. I’m a challenge, a trophy to them. Once won, it’s done. Nothing left but to polish and admire from time to time.
I am not worth any trouble. I am not worth any effort. I am not worth the time or thought. I am not worth to work or try for after the initial goal is achieved. I am not worth to be loved, that’s why I compensate with over-loving others. So at the end, the general love balance is still evened out somehow. I always put in more of myself because I already know I can’t count on anyone filling in the gaps for me. What I anticipate for others, can’t be done in return, because people would have to care and understand too much, too far out of their comfort zone.
I’m supposed to be satisfied and even impressed by little irregularities that might flatter me. I may not receive grand gestures or even just consistencies, and I may not ask for or expect them. I may not express any disappointment, or criticism on how unfair and unbalanced the reality of my relationship is. I should count myself lucky, as difficult to love as I am, that people put up with me as it is. I feel as though I buy people’s love and affection, care and understanding, time and attention, paying with everything I am and have… getting just less than the bare minimum in return. Emotional slavery.
If you expect something from me, I will automatically care.
So when you tell me you were waiting all night for my message, I will feel bad for falling asleep. Even though I owe you nothing, barely know you, have all the right to sleep whenever I want or need to (especially seeing as I struggle with falling asleep). So I should be happy I dozed off so relatively easily. But, you showed you cared and that it bothered you. You articulated expectation, you were disappointed by something I did (or didn’t) that had no real direct correlation or connection to you. I will still care, feel bad, guilty, inclined to fix it or make it up to you. Did I mention I barely know you?
Why am I like this? (and seemingly only I in this whole wild world) Because I know how it feels to care and not be cared about, to grow attached a little too quickly and cultivate rapidly expanding expectations based on a needle point sized probability of reality. I have been mistreated, dismissed, disappointed, led on, kept in the dark, lied to and cheated on so much and many times. Still I will always (regrettedly to my own ego and self loving properties) believe in the best of people, hope and pray for the best in their lives, give another chance each time the former expires, let people cross lines I’ve chalked down in blood, keep giving more of myself even when I clearly receive nothing in return, pretend I’m okay with what happens while I’m dying inside. Why? Why am I like this?
I am care. The very definition of sensitivity. In both its light as also dark magic. Now I only have to learn how to apply this all to myself. And as I tred the silver silk line that is this process, I slip every other step, back into familiar default patterns. Two steps ahead, always followed by one backwards. Still moving forward, though, through constant setbacks. Crawling through layers, scratched by the cracking of surfaces I break through and rise up from, ready to fall all the way back for the slightest sign of care from anyone who’s willing to show it. Not out of desperation for attention, rather despair for the acknowledgment and existence of unconditional love. Not because of weakness, but from the urge to mean to others what I wish I could mean to myself.
You know that moment when you’re doing something a bit dangerous, perhaps risky even, demanding the most of your attention, focus and alertness. Then someone with seemingly helpful intentions, from the sideline, starts giving you advice and nudges of intended empowerment, probably warn you to be cautious as they’re at it.
Most likely causing you to divert your attention, shift your focus by that exact nudge they give, flock from your alertness just a second, as to take into consideration what’s being offered to you. Because you don’t want to seem ungrateful, because you appreciate their care and input, because they are important to you. Chances are that exactly then is when things start to go wrong.
Realize this deep and well: focus on yourself and what you’re doing for what you want. Nobody is living exactly your life, but you, so it’s upto you and only you, to block out anything holding you back or drifting you off your aim.
Recognize true support, it never comes as distraction.
Tolerate nothing that stands in your way or turns out to sabotage your progress. This is your own responsibility, your choice and you have to deal with it your way. People will always think they’re just being kind and helping you. It’s yours to say what’s actually helpful and what isn’t, and you are allowed to dismiss what isn’t progressive to YOU.
Nobody but you knows what you need, to do what you need to do. Nobody but you has the grip, the handle, the control and the power for your own life.
Nobody but you.
Remember this when taking in well meant advice. Remember this when listening to sideliners empowering or warning you. Remember this when you need help, you decide what’s helpful or not.
Not them. Never them. However well meant. It’s all you and your own in the end.
There’s something so devastating
about their inner broken sadness
of someone who I attribute
most of my happiness to
A feeling so powerless
seeing them helplessly hopeless
with no surge of optimism
seeming to reach through
What can I do?
I know nothing
because I’ve been there myself
all that really helps, is offering to help
Concern and care
are more important
I wish I would just be the wind
Go wherever I need without resistance
No aim about direction
Without care of what I might hit and stumble upon
Obstacles just purposing to change my course
Others just to rush through
Causing music along my way
Soften a heat, strengthening rain
Tickle a fire, or flush it out cold
Skies offer home, clouds merely toys
If I was the wind, all my worries would be my joys
My heart is too widely open
I could be crouched down with a blade pressed to my skin
But if someone would then and there need me, I’d forget all the hate and hurt, just for them, temporarily
To have it waiting for me when I return to myself
I will still, help, love, care
Even if I can’t do any of those for myself
My heart is too widely open
But the love flows one way
Because I don’t know how to receive
I’m not blaming anyone else
It’s not self pity either
Just a reality I either have to get used to
Or find a way to change
But what makes me think, that after 15 years of trying
Now I will succeed?