This Probably Should Have Stayed in my Journal

Fuck it

I started writing a poem, and it turned into something else. This one might lose me a few people, that’s okay. The garden gate is always open for both comings and goings.

This is basically a personal journal entry. I was thinking about a conversation I had with a friend, and how I felt disconnected from it because I could hear a second conversation beneath their words.

It inspired feelings of loneliness, if I’m being honest. To be able to see others so clearly but not have them see you as well? It’s such a human thing, to desire being seen. Trauma taught me to observe. I learned to study micro facial movements and think ahead in conversations, instead of academics.

Healing didn’t stop those habits or responses; it just turned them into a usable tool. I found a home within myself. I found wonderful truths I once thought were lies. But the more aware I have become of myself, the more aware I have become of others, and I don’t quite know what to do with that.

So, here’s a piece of me, trying to figure it out.

Photo by Alex Nicolopoulos on Unsplash

My ears see more than my eyes do sometimes

I pick up on unspoken words

with precision that frightens

those afraid of themselves.

I don’t repeat what I hear

People dislike knowing

how much of them I can see

It’s a naked sensation

that feels like betrayal

A betrayal of themselves

or of me for seeing too much

I’m unsure

A subtle tease of subtleties

that reveal truths unspoken

Anger=fear

Disgust=fear

Criticism=fear

Insecurity=fear

I see the roots

where most see dirt

A skill I learned

while confined in my own trepidation

It was an unexpected result

of healing my own trauma.

Seeing myself so clearly

that no reflection

could show me something

that I didn’t recognize.

Understanding

that my life is my own

and not the result of someone else.

I know the fear of being seen

I avoided looking at myself for many years

because seeing the truth of me,

taking accountability for who I was

and what I had lived

felt like abandoning an illusion

I wasn’t prepared to step out of.

So, I don’t talk with people often,

because my ears sometimes see more than my eyes.

And I don’t want to strip anyone of the safety of their fears without consent. I’m sure saying any of this won’t help people want to speak to me lol; to know that when I say “I see you. I hear you.” I mean it. Even the deplorable and reprehensible. It doesn’t mean I excuse their shitty-ness, I just see what lies beneath it.

How do you have a conversation with someone you know can’t hear you because they can’t hear themselves? Is it my job to convince them to stop being a garbage human? Or do I create more change by staying true to myself; by offering the example of my clarity so that they may be confronted by the illusion of their fears? If their fears don’t have a reflective surface to bounce off of, where do they go? Is it wrong of me to stand up for what’s right without screaming about what’s wrong?

I see the roots where others see dirt. Kicking the dirt won’t tend the roots, it will destroy the plant. Isn’t that already what’s happening? Feed the fears, starve the truth? Stay in the illusion, perpetuate the lies?

I don’t know how to human in this era of hatred. I don’t confront anger with anger. I don’t respond to hatred with hatred. I don’t criticize those who criticize. I don’t give back what I receive, if what I’m being offered is rooted in fear. Adding my fear to the mix, is like pouring gas on a fire. What’s left when everything is burned away? A chance to start fresh? But what did we lose in the flames?

I don’t avoid conflict or difficult conversations. I appreciate the growth that can come from them. I still vote, and march (when I can), and uplift voices that speak on things in ways I can’t. I advocate without abandoning my peace. That doesn’t diminish my advocacy, at least, I don’t believe it does.

I’ve become intolerant to emotional intolerance.

Maybe I’ve healed too much. Or maybe I have just become too self-aware. Sometimes I feel as if I live just outside of the human experience, and I don’t know how to relate anymore.

Does that mean my peace is delusional? Is that delusion such bad thing? Will anyone ever understand me? Should it really matter if the answer is no? How do I show my strength, when love is seen as a weakness? Am I becoming a monk? … I can’t be, I still can’t stand Taylor Swift.

I don’t have all of the answers, but I love searching for them. Today my mind feels a little lost in my ability to connect to the world I live in. Tomorrow I might have new answers and more questions. I guess that’s the point.

Maybe I should just take a neanderthal approach. Me Like Humans. All Humans. Me want all humans to feel loved and valued. Me want peace, freedom, and abundance for all. Me want assholes not be in charge.

Living in the liminal means black and white bleeds to grey. If you close your eyes, you can see the spectrum that hides in the shadows.