I Have A Lot of Feelings

I went to Portland with C. Before flying, I felt fine not contacting you. I thought I was healed. I thought I was moving on. But I am nostalgic and soft, and Portland makes me think of you and the sweeter moments we had together. I wanted to contact you, but I knew it wasn’t a good idea for me. I wanted to contact you so badly, my fingers twitched. I thought about running into you and what I would say. I saw cars that looked like yours and they would pass and I would worry you’d seen me. That you’d be mad. Or sad. Or worse, passive. Numb. I didn’t want you to be numb. I wanted you to feel the extent of your feelings. I wanted you to be free. The trip was really lovely all in all, and it helped me process more. And I am grateful to C. I will always be grateful to C for supporting me through all of this. She makes me believe in true friendship. 

I posted some writing to my Instagram story and you saw it. I alluded to the idea that we were incompatible, which you absolutely know is true. You were the one who flagged it! I was willing to ignore it! To ignore all of my needs! To sacrifice so much of myself. Maybe that’s why you don’t see it, because I was so willing to shrink myself for you. You texted me to “check in”. We had a somewhat difficult exchange where I tried to be gentle and honest about my experience and you didn’t take it well. It was really hard for me to say anything to you, truthfully. To advocate for myself and speak my needs. It is still an uncomfortable practice. You sent me a flippant message, unwilling to express your experience or take on our ending and I could feel the malice in your words even if, to an onlooker they appeared benign. Later that day I was high and I saw you’d chosen to text me after all. I burst into tears because I thought the message was nice. Of course, I wasn’t entirely lucid. In my lucidity I could see how different our perspectives really were. How little responsibility you wanted to take for how you made me feel. 

I was on a third-ish date. It was a birthday party on a roof with strangers, which I always find fun. I brought my friend M with me. We were having fun and then my date offered me shrooms. I am normally quite intentional with substances, but this evening I had a sort of “fuck-it-all” attitude about things and figured a small amount wouldn’t hurt. I ended up having a full-on trip that started in a room full of strangers. It freaked me out. I lay on my dates’ bed with him and it was clear we were mentally in very different places. He was present in the room and I was off somewhere seeing wild visuals with my eyes closed, trying to figure out how to leave. At one point he held me very tightly against his chest and put his mouth on my nose. He made a popping noise that I found quite unpleasant. He expressed how much he liked me and I expressed how much I needed to go home. So he waited with me and I got into a Lyft. The entire time I was in the Lyft, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how much I missed you and needed to speak to you. I knew you’d know how to save me. So I called you and you were obviously very surprised but willing to help me. But your phone was low on battery and you had to drive home from somewhere far away so you couldn’t stay with me. You said you’d call me when you got home and sent me tips and music recommendations which was nice of you. I was extremely apologetic about reaching out because I knew I had violated an unspoken boundary. My trip was unproductive and existential. I was reckoning with the fact that I was ultimately alone and nobody could actually save me or make me feel saved. I waited until 3 AM for you to call me and eventually you texted me that we could talk but that you needed to “text the boys” first. This broke me. This tore me apart. Why did you say that? Why did you have to remind me I wasn’t your first priority? When I needed you? Why was that necessary? We talked on the phone for about an hour and caught up. It was clear to me after that call that you hadn’t really changed. What was I to expect from you really? But it surprised me when you told me you had been feeling mean, because I could tell, but I didn’t really expect it from you. And that gave me the clarity I needed to move on because I knew then that I couldn’t hold out for you. When we ended, you were so concerned about hurting me or saying something you couldn’t take back. And I realized after we spoke that I can have deep empathy and compassion for you. For your life struggles. For your pain. And I can also draw a boundary that protects myself, because I don’t deserve meanness or cruelty. I never did. I don’t deserve to feel small and I don’t want to allow that for myself anymore. You always said, “you deserve so much more than what you allow for yourself”, and after that night I understood how true that statement was.

I started to have dreams about you where you disrespected me. I felt so much anger towards some of the things you’d said or blown off. I felt frustrated that I hadn’t defended myself. Really, I was sad that I didn’t speak up for myself. But I was also furious. How dare you blame my reactivity in our relationship on my inner child wounds, as though you didn’t know you were kicking them up. As though it doesn’t take two to tango. How dare you complain about me to your friends right in front of me. How dare you suggest my boundaries are unreasonable. How dare you not take responsibility. So I really felt my anger this time. I wrote everything down I wished I could say to you. I screamed. I cried. And then I burnt it. I released it all. And I felt better after that.

After you left I went to acupuncture. I sat on the table, my back covered in needles. I closed my eyes and my inner child stared back at me. Actually, she was trying to hide. I could see she was upset with me. I wept, hot snot streaming out of my nose and onto the floor. I had abandoned and rejected her. I vowed to never do that again. To never lose her like that. 

Claire went with me to the park where you and your guilty conscience-free friend climbed trees so I could take shroom chocolate and process. I sobbed, I saw the white light, I let myself feel through the pieces of you I loved and my guides told me that when I was ready to open my heart again love would find me. I wrote you a very long letter absolving you of everything and it was beautiful but dopamine fueled, so I waited to send it. I never will. 

I got COVID and read a lot of "Ask Polly". She reminded me that it wasn’t necessarily a good thing that you felt like home. That because my home was dysfunctional, I had recreated and reinforced a dynamic that was harmful to me. A dynamic that emphasized giving to you, and accepting the limited amounts I received back. I didn’t know how to manage reciprocity. I had to heal those pieces. 

I was still in isolation and I got the light blue tube top in the mail that you had taken accidentally the day you left. I also discovered a song called “Alaska” by Caiola that made me burst into tears. Then I smelled the shirt. You’d washed it. It smelled like you, and that made me sadder. I listened to that song on repeat and cried about you. 

It is very hard to be sensitive in a world that is hard, but here are some of the great things about it:

When someone touches me I can feel the energetic exchange. When someone I want to touch me touches me, shivers run down my spine.

When someone places their attention on me or wants to do something for me/wants my full attention, I get full body tingles.

When I feel joy, I feel it in my whole being. I can harness ecstatic states without external substances.

It's interesting, these days, navigating a new relationship while also navigating my own evolution. Of course, the two are tied. Relationship encourages growth and healing (if the right person is involved). It's difficult for me because I want so much for myself. I want, on an independent level, to accomplish all of these things. To be proud of myself and ambitious. And on the other hand, I see the immense value of relationship. The only downside is that it takes away or transforms some of that ambition. This isn't a bad thing, but it's an adjustment. The person I'm seeing inspires me. He certainly takes on far too much at pretty much any juncture of time. Whereas I have a slower, steadier pace to my life. In both ways, we're imbalanced. In both ways, we are in one another's orbit to emphasize the opposite. He works so hard. He's extremely ambitious and watching him accomplish his goals means I am both emphatically happy for him and a certain level of envious that he has the drive I struggle to access.

I consider the fact that I'm with him as a positive omen. A presence and an energy to better inhabit self-worth. He's extremely encouraging. So supportive. He sees so much in me. And yet, I still find myself prone to stagnancy. It's a cycle I'm working myself out of. I think he's there to help me along the way.

But what bothers me is that I don't want to have a conventional kind of job. I don't want success and accomplishment to be reflective of how much time I invested. I want it to flow more naturally than that. I want it to feel like the time I invested wasn't a waste or cumbersome. It enhanced me in the process. Not only did I create or support in same way, but I was also created and supported. I don't want a job that is merely focused on output. I want a job that focuses on output and input. That gives back to me. And not just monetarily. Does that exist in this world? How can I make it exist?

That's where the real frustration lies. Knowing my purpose but not knowing how to apply it to the world. I realize this is also a process, and I've always been this type of way. Unconventional and necessarily going against the grain. Take dating and intimacy for example. My perception was always radically different from that of my peers. And I consistently had to remind myself that this fact was okay. That I would still find the right people for me. That I could be patient. And I suppose the same thing applies here. My peers talk about their jobs day in and day out. They go out drinking to cope. They complain about xyz meeting incessantly. And I get it. I understand it because I too have a job that is more conventional than it is alternative. And luckily or unluckily for me at this juncture in time the responsibilities are limited and my time is freed up. Regardless of how much I wish I had something to do, I'm being given this space for a reason. The gratitude of a paycheck to explore my own psyche. My own muse.

It just sort of happened. We were at a friendsgiving and a friend started asking people what their sun signs were. It's not something I initially bring up with near-strangers because I know so many people can be closed off to astrology. Of course, that's their problem, not mine. But sometimes I like to let the curiosity of their placements simmer as I get to know them. It's a fun game of sorts.

This particular man. I hadn't spoken to him much. I was curious about him though, which was largely why I had decided to attend the event in the first place. To learn more about him. He answered with "I'm a fish". Pisces. He seemed like a pisces. Something about his eyes. A sweetness that isn't always present in a man.

I'm not sure how it came about, but he ended up looking up his birth chart and, because I know the most about the topic, my friend let me take the lead. This man indulged the situation and we had a discussion about his placements. The thing is though, that on the spot it was harder to decipher his personality. I was nervous and would've rather had an hour or two to really dissect what I was looking at without curious stares from all around the room. Primarily, I was concerned I would say things that were irrelevant to him and how embarrassing that would be. I also didn't know much about his placements, so I felt like I was initially at a sort of disadvantage. Still, he resonated with various things.

I knew he was skeptical about the whole thing, and maybe he still is, as he mentioned something about the generality of astrology. Still, I asked him a question about whether or not he had feet issues given Pisces rules the feet. His eyes lit up and he explained he'd had foot issues his entire life.

I have a friend who recently got rejected by a boy. We're both very sensitive people, and that makes dating really challenging. The idea that we can't get attached to a new person? That we can't scour the depths of their psyche and expect them to want us? Horrific.

Dating really challenges us. To be in the moment. To appreciate encounters for their impermanence. To be willing to face the deep and heavy emotions that will come no matter the experience after it ends. It's the ending really that I think is hard. We spend so much time building both ourselves and the other person up. We're patient and we try to see potential. And when rejection happens, it hits harder because we invested. Because that's all we know how to do.

We feel deeply and we don't take connection for granted. It's certainly easier to feel okay after a less than stellar date, but after a small glimpse into something promising? I also have a very detailed memory, which, for better or for worse makes it harder to let go of people even if I knew they weren't right for me.

Because I can remember how it felt when we kissed even if it was just a few times. And how they smelled. What their eyes looked like. How they made me feel. And yeah, the "how they made me feel" part could in some ways just be projection of what I need from myself, but the what-ifs still linger. And you wonder why someone wrote you off. And if it was because you were too sensitive. Too intense.

Have you ever noticed how you gravitate towards certain astrological signs? For example, five of my close friends are Aquarius risings. I have many Cancer Sun and Moon friends, and I absolutely love and am drawn towards Aries Sun people.

I received an astrology reading at the beginning of the year and the astrologer told me my chart was heavy on the earth/air elements. I have two generational planets in fire signs and no water. I think having water house stelliums, a moon/venus conjunction, and a sun trine neptune more than makes up for that, but he said that my personal lack of water and fire meant I would draw these signs towards me.

I think when you lack elements in your chart you need others in your life to "push" you into those qualities or to help you see you have them within you already. We are all the whole wheel after all.

So, for me, why so much Aquarius, Cancer, and Aries?

The Aries is obvious to me. I take a pretty calculated, thoughtful approach to most decisions. I am VERY stuck in my ways/stubborn. Aries people always push me to step out of my comfort zone. To live in the moment. To dare to follow impulses. They're also SO fun. My Aries friends are the friends I run around town with. Who are down to check out whatever place I want to see. Who will encourage me to send the risky text. I went through a phase of dating Aries men as well, and I think it's because I was so drawn to their spontaneity and the way they embraced the fleeting moments. I do think, in my experience their fleeting nature can be a flaw because they do lose interest quickly, but I also dated an Aries man who was so deeply infatuated with me after we spent very little time together. He was artistic and romantic. That ultimately led to an intensity and urgency, encapsulated by love bombing, a poem, and claims that I had "opened up a part of him he thought he'd lost" (we went on two dates) . Still, I understand the charm. I am thankful to Aries for showing me I can take risks, I can harness my own spontaneity, their fierceness, how supportive they are, and how to have fun and live in the moment.

The Cancers in my life are my sweet, sensitive people. Even if they're not overtly sensitive, there is something about them that feels like home. They truly do have a nurturing presence. They are so supportive and understanding. I see so much of myself in them because we are both loyal and we give too much. I think Cancers encourage my emotional expression and passion in a way no other sign really does. My Cancer moon friends are like soulmates to me. We understand each other on such a deep, intimate level. I am so grateful to them for their openness, kindness, and the mutual respect I cultivate with them due to our tendencies to people please and get taken advantage of.

My Aquarius Risings, they are all so different and so unique. They all care deeply and embody so much independence. They are not judgmental and very creative. With my air rising, we always have really interesting conversations. We don't hold much back and it's nice to have friends with an upfront airy quality that is different from mine. They are generally more blunt than I am. I tend towards a gentler communicative approach, but sometimes blunt is what's needed. You can't always make headway when you keep things softer than they should be. Aquarius Risings support me in boundary creation and in prioritizing myself. They encourage my creativity and artistic pursuits regardless of how silly or rudimentary they might be. They also challenge my preconceived notions and push me to embrace individual expression/weirdness.

He had gone out of his way to text her about their experience together. Going so far as to say he was thinking about it and how sensual it was. He said he admired her forwardness. She initially sort of scoffed. She knew it was true, but her forwardness was such a new behavior that it felt almost like a different person had taken charge. And she knew it was her and a version of herself she was trying very actively to embody, but still it was weird.

But she thought about it more and more. And she looked up the definition of sensual to really understand what it might mean to her. She was always humble, trying not to live with the mindset that she was somehow so different or special from everyone else. But she kept having experiences that would lead her to believe the contrary.

She gleaned, it seemed, that in casual romantic contexts, it was often physical as opposed to sensual. She didn't really understand this because sensuality was in her makeup. She had always been a tactile, sensory, all-absorbing kind of person. Welcoming the intensity of feeling in all forms. She forgot that was rare because that was simply how she was.

And it's how she wanted to be. Tender, sweet, gentle. It almost felt revolutionary to reject the notion of pure physicality. Her attitude was- if she simply wanted sexual gratification, she could find that on her own. For she was a sensual person after all, and she knew how her body worked. So, for her, interacting with another wasn't merely for that. That perhaps sweetened the deal, but it was really about the intimacy.

She said she was mad because she didn't want her to tell me. Why? As if I didn't already know? As if I hadn't been the first person within the nuclear family to be involved? I'm hurt now.

It's not her fault really. When you're mentally ill, or manic even, it's not as though you're thinking actively about the consequences for others. But you'd think after all these years she might have some perspective.

That perhaps it was quite painful for me when her housemate's mother messaged me on Facebook to tell me my sister was in the hospital for cutting herself and taking pills (neither of which actually happened, by the way). Still, I thought it had. I thought my sister was in serious trouble. Even without those actions I knew she was. Because she wouldn't have taken herself to the psych ward had she not been. But still. I spent almost an entire day unsure of how she was and whether or not she was okay. And that was terrifying. It's painful to have that be dismissed.

It's also bizarre to make any sorts of comparisons. As though, because she went to the hospital, my own mental illnesses weren't as extreme or serious? Why can't we all just be collectively suffering? Why can't it be concerning for the both of us?

Is it because, for some reason I'm the oldest and therefore the most equipped to handle pain? Feels a bit unfair, if you ask me. That because I'd been depressed before I could hand it again? Again, feels a bit unfair given mental wellness can fluctuate. Just because I don't have a tattoo commemorating the many days I didn't want to live doesn't mean my struggles were any less real.

I think, for awhile I wanted to meet someone and escape into his life. I knew that was an unhealthy solution. But I love escaping into other people's worlds. It's so fun to see how others live and to get a taste of it. To forget who I am for a little bit. And I still love the idea of being let into someone else's world. Of being shown a window into other possibilities, ways of being, and ways of knowing.

But I'm starting to find other ways to escape that don't require me to abandon the life I'm building on my own. And, in fact, I don't think I want that anymore. I think I'm evolving. Which is honestly wild to observe internally.

I always want to grow, but its really interesting watching myself repel things I would've otherwise tried to latch on to. With men, being liked by them was the goal mostly. It didn't really matter much if we were compatible or if I liked them all that much. Sure I liked them some, but the validation that I was someone worth desiring, dating, knowing etc. was probably the main focus.

Now, as I do the inner work to actually like myself, and I watch that relationship blossom, it matters less to me what men think or how I'm perceived. Sure, I'm easily hurt and ghosting is painful, and being liked feels good, but it doesn't feel good enough for me to want to abandon what I really want anymore. I can acknowledge what felt good and still know whether or not something is for me. Or, at least I'm learning. And I don't think I would realize any of this had I not put myself out there to meet new people. But the general consensus seems to be positive and it becomes more and more apparent that I'm the one who is holding myself back.

The feeling is anxious agitation maybe. Being pulled out of the comfort zone. Getting what you wanted, what you asked for, not anticipating that it could make you feel unsettled. That's where I'm at. I feel overwhelmed. Like there are too many moving pieces when I'm just trying to sit still. They are disrupting the balance I want, even though I instigated their movement. Like I want to freeze time before it all comes to me. I want all of the change and all of the growth, but there is resistance. Because of past experiences. Because of the unknown. It's strange to feel both fear and elation about the unknown. About possibility. I wish there was a word for that beyond conflicted or turmoil. I have to show up for myself in new ways. I feel challenged by the prospect of going against my default.

Generally speaking, there is an impulse to shrink. Because if I shrink, at least fewer people will see me. I can have my fantasy and I don't have to reveal too much. But it's silly, really. Because I want the exact opposite. I want to expand. I want to be the biggest, loudest version of myself possible. In all ways. In all situations. But I'm scared.

I don't know what I'm scared of really. I think the hurt pieces of myself like to bubble up right when I'm reaching the precipice. They try to send alarm bells- they're protective. But I can't be big if I never give myself the chance to approach the world differently. And that's what I need to do.

You can't rush a cherry blossom

I am blossoming

You stimulate the right brain chemistry

Suddenly you're able to be

The person you wanted

But there's still melancholy

Because of course there is

And there's still doubt

Because of course there is!

And you have good days

But you wake up to the same looming anxieties

And its frustrating

Because it feels like you're making progress

And then you wake up

And you're still the same way

And the amygdala still works

And you can't just turn it off

So it's a constant retraining