on the nature of s e n s i t i v i t y

l i s t e n

there is a  c u r s e  that is put upon a few of us. at least that is what I call it. its sullen name is
s e n s i t i v i t y
and it is chronic. perhaps even terminal. 
I spend most of my days trying to be rid of it. escape. but not this day. this day I embrace. and I ponder. what if I am not a creature.

your needs are their second thoughts. a deep conversation you desperately need to feel  c o n n e c t e d  is just another insignificant moment of communication to them. because they don't think like you do. 

how sick I am of telling myself that.

t h e y   d o n ' t   t h i n k   l i k e   y o u   d o. 

you are called passive aggressive, over dramatic, too emotional when you  o p e n  u p.  but when you so perfectly care for and translate and cradle your loved one's emotions you are called wonderful, loving, an otherworldly listener.
                       
                        s o,
it is only good when it is not yours. 

your sensitivities are not valued yet art that people praise and marvel at is born from those same uncared for sensitivities. 
                       
                         s o,
it is only loved when it is not a burden.

finding someone who lets you work through the steps of your emotions without judging you or pressuring you is rare and more often than not anyone who understands is someone like you

which leads me to wonder

how difficult is it to extend the courtesy of understanding beyond themselves to you?
because

I feel like that is all I do.

I often understand what someone is feeling before they do, yet even with an explanation of why I am feeling what I feel I am still told that
                                                                                    it
                                                                                           is
                                                                                                gnorw | wrong

which prompts me to ask them

does it really matter if I am not supposed to feel what I am feeling? if it is not supposed to rain it does not change the fact that it is still  p o u r i n g  down. 

but I do not ask. I never do. 

because what is the use?   i f  t h e y   c a n n o t   s e e   t h e   r a i n   a t   a l l   &  t h e r e   a r e   f e w   w h o   w i l l   t a k e   y o u r   w o r d   f o r   i t

shame. pain. self denial. loneliness. self silencing. overthinking. fear of reactions.

in translation   a  c a g e. 

is the home, the everyday place of a  s e n s i t i v e. 

and the trapped words, the stagnant emotions, the secret feelings turn your insides to rot. 

so that they can like you. so that they will accept you. so that they will not tell you to stop feeling. 

s e n s i t i v e s  cannot stop feeling. anymore than we could will our hearts to stop beating. our lungs to cease their swelling. so why do they keep asking. keep expecting. keep wishing we would   w i l t. 

what if I am not a creature. 

what if

I am  

just as I 

should be.

two thousand twenty two

"It is a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." 

a new year has begun. a new journey. a new b r e a t h. 

I am happy to let 2021, a year of hard lessons, loss, and tears, go. for once, I am not clinging to the past, but looking to the future. 

I feel like a traveler, peering over distant hills to the horizon where the waves of some vast ocean look to be on fire by the sparking of the sun dancing off of them. I have one question, one goal, one thought. what will I see? what will I find if I 

keep 

        moving 

                     forward?

only time will tell. but something in me thinks I may just find myself, waiting on the white shores, with fire in her breast and strength in her bones. 

what can you see on your horizon?

winter season favorites

 every season brings a new perspective. new habits. new challenges. new animals, bugs, and plants. these are my winter season favorites so far. what are yours? 

tea tree + peppermint aromatherapy lotion

this stuff is like a perfume. the bottle is so pretty and the scent lasts all day. I feel very fancy when I put it on, like lady Mary Crawley getting ready for the Christmas ball. 

lavender & honey lip butter

the only lip balm that has ever actually moisturized my lips. the lavender is a bonus, a love lavender.  

sunscreen stick

I've been meaning to use sunscreen daily for a while. by a while I mean years. but they are all sticky and they smell like public pools. this little product, however, smells like bananas and adds and extra layer of moisture to my face. I've been using it every day. 

coconut pineapple zoa

this drink gives me life. vitamin packed. zero sugar. I really shouldn't love it like I do. 

snowboarding (in my mind)

how can I crave to do something I've never done? I'm not sure but lately I have wanted to snowboard so badly. I have only been on a skateboard a few times and have barely done anything in the snow besides cry and shiver. but something tells me I would love sliding down crystal hills. I imagine it would feel akin to flying though I've never done that either. 

crown lake

Is this a drama filled poorly produced web series for preteens? yes. do I love it and find every episode fascinating? also yes. I have such an admiration for creative young series like Free Rein or Saddle Club back in the day. 

caruso

this song is so haunting and heavy yet beautiful. I wish I could sing like Lara. 

dear modern me

 "We tend to shy away from mourning and dancing. Too afraid to cry, too shy to dance. We become narrow-minded complainers, avoiding pain and also true human joy. While we live in a world subject to the evil one, we belong to God. Let us mourn, and let us dance."

this is where I put the things I dig out of my heart. I blog here because I have grown tired of being directed here and there. told what to think, what to feel, where to look, what to care about, who to support, how the world works. for my world is not run by the everyday people, by money, or by politics. 

but by God. 

                         by art. 

                                        by emotions. 

                                                                by hope. 

                                                                                         by belief. 

aren't you tired of other people's perspectives and morals and illusions clouding around you like second-hand smoke? I am. 

I want to to get back to me. back home. back where I was before the world picked me up and shook me so fiercely, changed my name. when did everything churn into something I do not recognize? where did the honesty go? what is weird about daydreaming at 24 years old or gushing about the beauty of the world? who are these people I walk side by side with? 

I miss my childhood days. and not because of the trials of adulthood. but because I was solely, so entirely me. It is so easy to get lost in the winding ways of this world. if you do not remind yourself of who you are, someone else will tell you. 

becoming is an art. a long lost art. and values are becoming archaic. and differences are washed away in a vicious movement of forced acceptance and similarity. I just want to be me and be who God wants me to be. I do not want to follow this world's agenda. other people's paths. other people's ideas and thoughts. they are contagious and they lead me away from my purpose. what is success if it is an imitation? what is progress if it is in the wrong direction? when did not being unapologetically me become an option?

-from Nie