There is a lot of ambiguity in life. People frequently talk about how little time there is and if they would have done such and such. It's great to process mistakes because we learn from them, and excess focus on the would have, could have, should have... this can deteriorate a mind and spirit. What is excess focus? What is enough focus? These questions take a lifetime to answer, and answers can change from one decade to the next.
I'm part of the online dating world at the moment. This changes almost minute-to-minute because I wonder about excess and enough. I deactivate and reactivate my profile more times than I can count. It's difficult to know how much effort to put into any one potential because my heart and mind still long for a former partner. When I think of him, my eyes tear up and my chest fills with love.
It's been six years now since narcissist Hispanic rapist manipulated my life. I went for him hook, line, and sinker. He happened when I was with an angry privileged white male. Looking back, I see how confused I felt. It's hard to develop a self amidst family dysfunction and then try to create a confident stable adult life. At every turn, there can be someone ready with critique or an attempt to cut with humor. It can get overwhelming.
Growing up with a Chinese mom and a white dad meant I got the best and worst of two cultures. I learned to adapt and be flexible, which has helped and hurt me along the way. After my sisters left the family in my late childhood, my dad left, too. He chose someone half his age and of the Filipino culture. My mom and I toughed it out for several years before I needed to flee the nest. It was excruciating for me to leave her. I felt immense guilt. I'd observed her abuse and receive abuse. The culture at-large discriminated against her accented English, and I could see how it affected her confidence. Even now, I remind her that she speaks four languages whenever she apologizes for how she sounds. It bruises something inside of me to hear her apologize for what I see as a quality.
Depression and depressive thoughts are so familiar that they almost comfort. It's that kind of messy part about things that are common. Even the negative aspects can become cozy.
I used to feel so lonely that I would befriend just about anyone. It's hard to know that about myself and not send abrasive comments up and down my psyche. When you grow up like I did, it's not a surprising way to be, though. Boundaries and how to differentiate between good and bad intentions from others takes time, attention, and confidence, and that's not always available to us as we change through the years. When we can move ourselves in and out of tears, up and down through pain, we are so much closer to what is: an emptiness that mingles with meaning.
Well hello there.