Disowned

Disowned

I can’t take ownership of these feelings, these thoughts.

These issues are not mine to hold.

I am without scars; flawless. Undesirable qualities, I have not.

It is You that is angry. Jealous. Insecure. It is You that is to blame.

It is You that has these faulty thoughts, incorrect feelings.

You are the source of what I do not like.

About myself.

You are my projection.

It is You that I can blame for these uncomfortable feelings. For my distress.

It is on You that I can dump and disown what I do not want to see.

About myself.

Disowning myself and disrespecting my truth makes it easier to disrespect Yours.

My thoughts, motivations, desires, and feelings do not matter, so why should Yours?

photo credit: Gabe Austin

Rejected and Disappointed

Rejected and Disappointed

RejectedDisappointed

Not wanting to feel it. Apathy towards the whole thing.

Why bother?

Isn’t it curious how we can love something. Someone. So much.

And feel so completely rejected and disappointed by them.

Two sides of a coin.

Love and pain.

How can I care so much, and yet desire to care so little?

Apathy. An easy option filled with complications.

Eventually, the truth will catch up with me.

Apathy. A dangerous act to perform.

It’s hard to keep up. It takes its toll.

Especially when masking the pain of rejection and disappointment.

How long can I pretend before I forget, and the mask falls from my face?

Can I trust myself? Am I that good of an actor?

What if I wore my rejection, my disappointment, without shame?

How might that change things? If you and I were to know the truth?

No reason to hide.

The love and pain, revealed.

Vulnerable. Exposed.

It is what it is. Equanimity. Towards my disappointment and my rejection.

I can learn to love them, as I do you. You’re intertwined, one. Ever present.

All of what I feel deserves to be felt.

Equally acceptable is my love and my pain.

photo credit: Karla Cantu

The Moments of Regret

The Moments of Regret

if we never try we never know.

Regret is a painful thing. We see it through the lens of things undone, unsaid, unbeen. We feel it for those moments where our head overran our heart. We embrace it when we act from fear rather than love. All these moments we regret. It is never the moments from love, but the ones acted on—or not—out of fear; these are the moments we miss(understand).

Our mind wants to protect us, but from what? What is it our mind first causes us to fear—then ask us to protect against? Sadly, it is love. Always balancing our head and our heart, we are not perfect people. Trying to protect our self from the truth of our feelings, we make mistakes we later regret. Busy thinking about how we want to feel, we miss another moment to connect.

Performing

Performing

Performing

So good at the act that you forget what’s true.

So good at pretending that the unreal becomes real.

What you feel is under your control.

You can simply act it away.

A mask of neutrality.

Leads you to believe you might actually feel it.

You can ignore your feelings.

You can act forever.

Yet at some point, the inevitable curtain comes down, and the performance ends.

You are left with you; and the feelings you’re pretending aren’t there.

If only for a moment.

The act is over.

What then?

Who are you when your truth has space to be?

The question, terrifying.

Its answer even more so.

It lies in love and the shape of it.

What does your love and care look like when there is no performance to mask it?

photo credit: Ania

Emotional Littering

Emotional Littering

EmotionalLittering

Emotional littering is when I attempt to alleviate my own overwhelming emotions by disposing of them elsewhere, when I inherently know they’re mine to be responsible to.

In those moments, I don’t want to own what I’m feeling and how I’m reacting to it. Instead, I’m trying to drop my responsibility into another’s backyard. To put it on them.

I’m not making space for my stuff, and I’m attempting to alleviate this by leaving it for someone else to take care of. I’m pretending to not be attached to what I’m feeling.

I am emotionally littering. And in doing so—in not being responsible to how I feel—I’m giving away my power to feel differently. What a waste.

photo credit: Steven Pisano