Listening to a playlist of beautiful acoustic cover songs and feeling apprehensive, melancholy, eager, wishing that my life had more connection. Makes me want to sing and learn guitar or piano.
I've been painting. It's not finished and who knows if it will be any good. I decided a painting of a crow and a painting of a humming bird for the office.
I've been thinking of spirit guides. Fuzzy was obviously my guardian angel, but I haven't been thinking of cats for a long time. Michael, only because of the name, but I like the idea of wings enfolding me in the knowledge of G-d. Crows were the ones that kept reminding me that there was something else, something other worldly. The silent moose, the meditating moose, strong, resilient, not moved. The hummingbird is new, the struggle and passing through. These are just images. I don't know what my spirit guides actually look like. I've been wondering if I can send them to people, the same way I pray all the time, just be with them.
Sunday nights are always a little... anxious, a little grief that passes by the next day when I throw myself head first into work.
I have a lot to do this week. A new client. A DA. A number of suicidal kids to deal with. I've got a group that doesn't trust me, and one that over relies on me. I'm questioning my abilities because the kids are hurting. I know it isn't my fault, but I have decided it is my responsibility I guess. And now because I have nothing else, I am questioning myself. Not believing in their natural resilience, their strengths, the life time ahead of them, the amazing people they will meet and become. It isn't fair or right, but I am questioning it all the same.
I've been trying to figure out how to address their drama, how to say, how will you take responsibility for your own mental health instead of blaming everyone else, or forcing them to save you?
But... I know that desire too well. I was thinking how much I am like them, addicted to the roles, wishing someone would save me from myself. Like how I like my supervisor for forcing me to feel. How I got mad at my last therapist because he let me play the role of always being ok, let me deceive him, didn't force me to go deeper.
My supervisor asked me why my feelings don't matter, and my life reinforces it. There is no place for my feelings, only my giving and sometimes my thoughts. Thats what people accept.
I've been thinking about my parents a lot this weekend. Trying to figure out what work of theirs I was born to take on. My father's passiveness, his people pleasing, his desire to bring people together, and his avoidance when he can't do it the way he wants. My mother? her manipulation and rationalizing everything in healing and growth? Her brushing over things when she doesn't want to admit she took on too much? Her way of doubting, while holding out hope? I don't really know with her. Maybe it's just that I fit her image, follow too closely in her foot steps. My mom thinks she's a 7 on the enneagram, and that makes sense to me. A healthy seven. It's hard for me to see her faults, sometimes I feel slighted by her indifference, or her memory slips. Her stress positions. Maybe that's my clue... what I get frustrated with her with. It felt good to step up and take responsibility, but it wasn't mine to take, I wasn't ready.
I think about things like the getting lost and walking home in Hong Kong. She was so sure I was fine, and I was completely terrified and alone. And I did end up being fine. I was praised. I felt more confident. I went to Europe on my own and got through the panic attacks and depression. I went to South America and did the same. Maybe all of these things I am so proud of were just my subconscious way of me trying to say "No one is willing to hold me (the way I need), so I might as well go away."
Not entirely true. I mean everything is mixed. Maybe I need to explore more of this people pleasing and taking on people's shit. Maybe I need to work up the effort to finish this fucking book, but again, for what? Because I NEEEEEED a project to keep me busy.
It's really easy to feel like there isn't a point.
I learned to stay sober, neutral, unaffected because it saved people's lives, helped things get better, sometimes it doesn't work and it is painful to realized that no matter how much I care or sacrifice, I can't fix things. But sometimes listening, or caring, or taking on shit... or staying sober or staying neutral and loving them even when they are hurting you does work. Not always, but some of the time. Which is the kind of pattern that gets reinforced the most.
I held my nephew today, played peek a boo over and over. He's a little guy and I've only seen him like 6 times since he was born in January. I don't love him yet... not really.
I was thinking about the love we have for children. Specifically I was thinking about N and C, because of course I was. How N caught my heart in his anxiety, his intelligence, and his rift with his mom, like he already knew he couldn't rely on her, and I wished soooooooo badly to help repair that (playing the role again), but what 5 year old starts calling his mother by her first name with disdain. Sure he was testing too, testing and being naughty as a 5 yr old must, but it was so clear already that he knew something was wrong in their relationship, and Mike? -oh instead of taking that as a warning sign I just moved closer. C, no one could not love that girl. She made you earn it, and one you did it was addicting. I guess she is her mother too. Even now I am jealous of the people she is smiling for (both of them). C was just figuring out who she was, a baby too long (probably another warning). But N will take care of her. I miss them. Maybe I didn't love C either, just loved that she forced me to love her so easily. I pictured them growing up far too often. Pictured who they would become. Loved all the possibilities, loved that they had a life time ahead to figure it out, and that at every moment they would be a challenge that forced me to rethink my own shit. I indulged in their voices, in their running around the house. Every where I went, I would see things and wonder if I should buy it for them. I was enamored of the feeling that I could be... something to them.
It's so funny, I am clearly so angry with M this weekend... it's spiteful and envious. She changed her Facebook picture, and I am unfurling venom in an attempt to not be drawn in.
I am such a weirdo. Maybe that's the other reason I don't want the clients to know me too well. Maybe I am just aware that I am a fucking weirdo, don't have my shit together, have hurt people, have fucked up... maybe that's the exact reason I should be more real, but they've had to deal with such bullshit...
I don't want to disappoint them. Fragilizing, playing the role. Mike's drama.
Mike's drama. On some level, I wonder why I keep rededicating myself to helping people. I know it helps me. Makes me feel confident, and I would do it anyway... but... if I hatched my great escape plan now instead of in 30 years, it wouldn't be that different. I'd probably see more whales if I run now. Maybe I should move to Oregon. Life is so expensive in the US.
Jesse keeps telling me about 90 day fiancé. I am sure it reminds her of her parents or something... but it feels weird because I wonder if she ever pictured us that way. She hasn't shown any interest in me in that ways in years. I keep thinking I am gonna end up being that guy... the loser who doesn't realize they aren't actually interested, just using me for status. Somehow like M, I would convince myself that I was aware and conscious and making the decision anyway. That it was ok to be used... because maybe that's all I think I deserve.
I was gonna do some reading tonight... maybe I still will. But felt a little like I should journal and I didn't feel like leaving the music...
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