I can’t make sense of my life right now and the only thing I can do to make sense of it is sit in front of of a blank screen and try desperately to untangle the mess of words in my brain.
I’ve inevitably gone back into a bit of an avoidance state. I know it. I’m always absolutely sure of my ability to just put my head down and try to not think of the things I don’t want to deal with.
Normally instead of putting all these brutally honest words on a page what I would do instead is simply try to empower myself out of the things I heard.
I try to man up.
But, there is this really creepy children’s movie from the late 80s that keeps coming to my brain. It’s called “Little Nemo: adventures in slumberland”. It’s one of those films most people have forgotten about or chosen to ignore. But there’s a feeling that I remember from the movie, when Nemo is falling off the bed. It’s a clear feeling I still feel when I even just think about the movie. It’s a feeling of unstoppable dread.
The feeling that feels like nothing will ever be the same again once you slip off the edge.
A feeling you can’t turn back from.
And in a way, that’s how I felt lately. If I choose to put out what I feel and how I’m back in this land of the other shoe dropping.
This is the part I don’t like. Having to admit the things I’m choosing to run from, or the conversations I’m avoiding for fear of once again being the one that breaks down.
And so now, I sit here, wondering if I’m going to talk about a phrase that was said to me constantly by a lot of people growing up.
It’s something I’ve touched on here and there but I’ve never come right out and addressed.
I’ve been told; since I was a very tiny human and into adulthood that I am too sensitive, that my feelings were too big, that I overreact. That it’s “not a big deal”.
I could write a list with memories and moments and words absolutely branded on my brain.
And I’ve spent a majority of my adult life teetering on the edge of being too much.
I’ve absolutely outlined a narrative that people will leave if I’m not strong enough. That the next time I break down will be the last time the people around me can stand.
Even facing the words on the screen- I know it’s ridiculous.
Something I know that I know is that the dark and ugly things of the world- whatever sentiments you describe as evil- that that thing has been trying to rob me of that thing I was told was too much my whole life.
I’m really damn good at teaching tiny humans. It’s something I won’t back down from. There are a lot of things that I feel deem myself a good teacher for but, I believe the thing that sets a part as a teacher is I don’t see a tiny human weakness or behavior as such- I see how it is a strength. How it can be used and how we just need to change the perspective.
I’m trying to change my perspective on my emotions. I’m trying to find ways to remember that people aren’t going to run and when they have; they aren’t my people.
I’ve tried really hard since I’ve started writing and sharing it to not let the fear of being too much overcome me.
While, some moments are moments of protecting myself and who I am, others are solely the fear of the mess I feel inside or in my room will suddenly be too much.
But, I’ve spent a lot of years teaching tiny humans about emotions and that their emotions are valid.
And today, sitting on this crowded sunny patio, I wanted to stare at little Meghan and remind her: she’s not too sensitive.
That her sensitivity and the voice she’s too afraid to use are powerful.
And that tonight, she should sleep.
With love,
Meg