Today was better than a few days ago. I’ve come to the conclusion that because I am so hyper sensitive, I have to physically work myself into exhaustion to feel okay. I just got home from a (slightly sketch) walk down state with my best friend and already this feels like the one part of my day that I feel at ease.
Sometimes I wish I could smoke weed like everyone in this town and not have panic attacks. I feel like finding a guaranteed way to make yourself feel good would be nice.
Music helps tho. Lately I’ve been listening to Brian Eno’s “Thursday Afternoon” and I can’t explain how good it makes me feel. I’m currently sitting naked against my cold bedroom wall, hearing his sound flow into my headphones. It’s a very tranquil feeling, which I rarely come to know.
I keep telling myself I need to learn to be patient with everyone. I am in such a rush all the time. Maybe thats why its difficult to connect with people, energy wise. I just find I have so much to give, so much to offer. But my thoughts and feelings become misplaced and broken up, like trying to put together a antique china plate after it has fallen onto a tile floor. Even though it’s doable, its also tedious, difficult. Just like me.
Maybe I need to toughen up, not break so easily. But maybe I also need to surround myself with people who aren’t afraid of getting cuts and scrapes while putting things back together.
Is that too much to ask for?
I keep going back and fourth between decideing what I deserve in life.
Tell me why for the first time in years, I think I’ve actually been lucky enough to be around someone that sticks around through my bullshit? Ha, you would think that for something I want so badly, I wouldn’t treat it so recklessly.
And yet here I am. Sitting alone in my apartment, finding myself feeling dumb and the ever present feeling of rejection lingering in the corners of my mind.
When did I become like this? When did I allow so much of my shitty past to take control over my present emotions? I know its not fair to anyone. I know I am allowed to feel, but when does it subside? All I seem to do is self sabotage the true things that make me happy, and I hate it. I get so dissapointed with letting people down, but at the same time I feel like I am unable to make anyone truly happy.
When all I want to do is be happy. All I want is to make other people feel good and truly witness some sort of miracle that I know exists. I never used to be so cynical, and I’m tired of throwing my own black out pity party. It’s not cute. It’s not me.
I can only hope the good side of who I am is noticed,
and that I don’t scare positivity away.
Back to being an Empath. Maybe it is a combination of me being blessed with this trait, and the fact that I am a Scorpio. As any other Scorpio or astrologist knows, Scorpios are DEEPLY in touch with our emotions, with the paranormal, with the “dark” side of life that most seem to not want to touch base on or aren’t interested in taking the time to appreciate the beauty of. (Oh, also little known fact. I am an avid Astrologer. I would love to make an entire Scorpio // Astrology post now, but that will take forever and a day and I want to do nothing more than craft it together, perfectly).
With the guidance of having both of these gifts, over the last 3 years I have taken up learning the Art of Tarot Reading. This can be a bit of a sensitive subject, because not everyone has or is willing to take time to understand what the mental, emotional and physical process it takes to do a reading. And a good, whole hearted one at best.
Okay okay, before you automatically think this is some weird BDSM post let me fill you in on a little known fact about myself. I am an Empath. For those of you that may not really understand what that means, i’ve entrusted my handy dandy search toolbar to do the job.
(chiefly in science fiction) a person with the paranormal ability to apprehend the mental or emotional state of another individual.
My entire life, (not just in my teen years or in my current early twenties, but literally since I was a child) I have always been hyper sensitive to energy, to anything and everything around me. Without even realizing i’ve come in physical contact of a person, something inexplainable happens. I unknowingly embody energy, and it feels as if a warm light surges throughout my body. Starting from my stomach and slowly moving to every area.
It can be a helpful tool, especially when I am trying to do my best at understanding a rough situation (or any situation at that) with my friends or someone I deeply care about. At the same time, it can be exhausting. Especially when it comes to negative energy… I can feel the presence of something foul or rotten as soon as that person walks through the front door. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, to the point where I physically feel ill and start to lose my breath…
Thankfully, a co-worker of mine (she is also an Empath) recently taught me a few tricks to help Protect my Light, Protect my Energy. Working in customer service definitely gives me many oupportunities to practice these tools. I have come to find them effective, but sometimes I cannot help but absorb and sometimes manifest the sadness or annoyance or anger of a person who’s energy is too strong, or if I am caught off guard.
TO MAKE A LONGER STORY LONGER, let me brake these posts into two parts so you aren’t sitting there, scratching your head as to when the hell I am going to talk about this damn horse shoe spread 🙂
I guess I could start off with saying that this is not the first, second, or third time I have attempted to create a “blog” as we call it. There have been many times in my 24 years of living that I have searched the internet for “Free Blog”, “Free Journal”, “Free Diary”. When I was younger, it was more aimed at the purpose to find a safe place to keep my secrets, secret. I never wanted the lurking eyes of my mom and more importantly my older sister to find the harsh words I scribbled onto old pieces of my notebook paper.
They were always keeping watch, always tracking my every move. You would think growing up in such a strict enviorment would keep me sheltered from the chaos of the outside world, or at least keep me away from pressing situations. I think that was a goal my mom had set in her mind when I was just a little girl, but to her horror and more apparent denial, she would never be able accept the fact that the tighter the grip she had on me, the harder I fought to find my way out of it.
But back to what matters… I have had many types of journals since I was young. Even at 8 years old, the most important thing to me was my own space, my privacy. I even went as far as to get some shitty Toys R Us Diary that was voice automated, and would not open unless I spoke a secret password. Sometimes I wish technology was as simple as it was in the late 90’s, early 00’s.
If you haven’t figured it out by now, my mind is always going 1000 miles per hour. Writing out how I felt on paper became unbearable, I had too many memories to formulate into one carefully crafted sentence (or what I like to call now “emotional baggage”). There was absolutely no way I could actively keep on with my day to day blasphemy, without losing my train of thought or getting a wrist cramp from fucking hell.
So, after many “Journals” and endless pieces of paper scratched by my pens and thrown into the garbage, I realized there had to be a easier way to get all this shit of out my head.
I hope you take the words I write lightly, for they are just a screenshot of what really goes on inside my mind. Crazy, but quietly.
This is where I begin.