To The Overflowing Cup

My therapist recommended I try to find a space where I can both empty and fill my cup. Writing used to be it. But that's been tricky lately. I haven’t exactly been wanting to commit things down to paper.

Edit: This is like the fourth time I'm trying to write the next paragraph.

It's been hard trying to write out the words in my head; mostly because I've been avoiding that place. That place is overcrowded and overwhelmed right now. It kind of looks like a filled-to-capacity subway car. Processing has been muted, and feeling has been numbed. All my emotions are just stuck in the subway car waiting to get home and rest.

The thing is, is that sometimes (most of the time) it can be extremely exhausting to have to depend on yourself; just as it is with taking care of yourself first. Being taken care of is a much nicer feeling, and it helps take off the pressure. But if it’s only me dealing with my mind, then I have all the responsibility; I assume all the risk. And if I'm not sharing or communicating what I need in the first place, then I'm definitely just making it harder on everyone, oops.

Also, I don't know what it is about human beings, but often times people rather hear about other people's drama than fix their own. Is it that we just need a break from ourselves? Are we being avoidant? Or have we just been taught (directly or not) to put others first? And this has to do with other's comforts, desires, hopes, needs, etc.

But why don't we put our comforts, desires, hopes, and needs first? Why do we often sacrifice those things for others? Why do I sacrifice my comforts, desires, hopes, and needs for the sake of others?

But I digress, even though I don't like that word, I'm just trying to do something because it has been brought to my attention that it might be getting bad again. (I think it was me who brought it to my attention, but anyhow). Sometimes I think it's just a therapy hangover; those are less of a headache and more of a heartache.

I think that the therapy hangover is part of the healing though, at least that's what I'm trying to convince myself of. A lot of stuff has happen in the last six months, and even more over the course of life. There's so much happening all the time, and sometimes I just want to chuck my phone in the ocean.

The energy drinks are not part of the healing though, but at least I'm able to admit that (regardless of not doing much about it). That's one thing that has been helping with getting through everything that's going on. And to be honest, I still don't even know how to talk about what happened. It's just too heavy and too much all at once. Too many broken pieces scattered yet all connected to the same puzzle.

I had a friend actually tell me about this rock problem method. She said get a handful of rocks, doesn't matter which or from where. Choose a rock that you find holds the emotion/memory that you carry. Once you've identified and assigned the emotions to the rocks place them in a circle. Each rock is part of you, but it's just a part. It's not all of you. And those rocks will weigh your pocket down sometimes. But I can also take the rock out of my pocket and put it somewhere else for a little bit. Sort of compartmentalize things and be like: today, my parents are going to sit outside by the door because I don't want that rock weight on me right now.

It helps sometimes.

That rock is still outside, covered in snow-

That also helped.

-hard and packed snow.

Sometimes we're just not ready to deal with the rock, and definitely not all of them at once. That’s not the kind of stoned I’m into (haha look at me trying to be funny and break the tension!)

But in all seriousness, trying to handle a lot of big emotions all the time, while past traumas wiggle around, and the world is a dumpster fire - is HARD. I live by a bay, there’s tons of rocks, but I really don’t want to carry ‘em all in my pocket.

But I do know that I need to start somewhere, because ultimately I am tired of things getting bad in my head. I know deep down that a part of me does want to heal from all the shit. Maybe I’m just scared. Maybe I’ve gotten so used to living with it all that I’m scared to know what it’ll be like without. And if half trying is where I’m at right now, at least it’s not nothing. (My English is greaaat right now).

And I can pretend my therapist will be proud of me for at least writing SOMETHING. I mean, it has been quite a while…

So I guess here’s me trying to put myself first, and trying to unpack this busy subway car of emotions filled with scattered pieces. I got rocks in my pockets, some outside my door, and my fingers are typing.

It’s something.