Insomnomnomnia is What You Make of It
Oh, good morning! It's 5 am, and I've been so productive for the past two hours. Now, I'm not super productive overall, but I take what I can get. Especially when it means that I have a motivation to eat... insomnia is making me hungry.
Now, I will come out and say that it's generally sucky that I can't sleep for more than 5 hours straight, but if I'm going to be up at 3 am, I'm going to take an epsom salt bath and exfoliate my skin with my charcoal bar and wash my makeup brushes and clean my bathroom and change my sheets and do a whole bunch of other things that specifically belong on the list of nod your head but think, yeah, like that's going to happen. Which is... kind of fun, I guess. And eating, and blogging and meditating by candlelight (I actually make a point to make time for that as it keeps me sane and positive).
So, I want to make this positive. I'm sitting in my sanctuary (bedroom) with my candles and lanterns burning and incense and I feel reflective. There are so many reasons that I could feel upset right now, but I've found that it's all a choice. Some choices are more difficult than others, and some people have more tools to make those choices easier (and I'm lucky enough to be one of those people), but they are choices nonetheless.
There's a few things going on right now that make me feel both a jittery sense of unease, sorrow or frustration and an absolute assurance that things will be okay. I'm a living dichotomy, and this is no exception. In accepting my own imperfections and embracing that I'm going to be a mess sometimes, I've found a certain peace. It's in my temperament to be a fighter - from day one, when my heart didn't work like other people's, to today when I struggle to feel a sense of connection to this body I'm so accustomed to battling with.
Today was difficult because I was in the room with someone who hurt me terribly (whom I now fear) for the first time in a year and a half. Also, in the time I walked away from my family, I worked at a facility that was a family business as a caretaker for people with special needs. This family became my family of choice - and their business and work is inspired by their amazing son who brightens everything around him. I can't convey how unique and important and special he is - both in his nature and specifically to me. He's a chosen brother and I love him so dearly. I went to say goodbye to him today - he got sick and he's not going to make it through this time. I've seen a lot of death in my lifetime, and much of it feels right and peaceful, but there's an acute sense of loss with Austin leaving this earth, because he is so much of what everyone needs to be more. My heart aches for the loss of his immediate presence, and though I put on a strong face say my goodbye, I am living in shock now and I know there will be more breakdown to come.
I've been coming out with my story of abuse and neglect, addressing my anorexia and handling these things this week. I've begun to address my most unpopular statement that's gotten me a lot of flak - the idea that my immediate family lacks the emotional resiliency and maturity to have provided the support I've needed through all of these challenges (or really, any level of appropriate developmental support in the area of emotional health). I've been trying to create and maintain relationships (cheers to all the people that love me and have been patient with this process!), the most difficult thing for me because this is the first time in my life that I wasn't so traumatized by my experiences that I only feigned interest in other human beings (despite my ongoing love for the human race, I've always been quite exhausted by the idea of letting people in).
So why am I feeling peaceful? Here's the thing. In surrendering control of this all, in accepting help and allowing myself to be upset and vulnerable and allowing myself to be seen rather than crafting a careful persona for everyone I meet based on their observable (and even less observable) traits, I also surrendered the task I've taken up over the past 12 years: only giving, never receiving, love. I have spent so many years exercising compassion and convincing others of their innate worth, trying to help them leave behind the urge to hustle for a sense of worthiness and showing charity for those who I could identify had the fewest supporters. And I couldn't do it for myself.
Mostly, I wasn't ready. I won't go into why and how and when and every bit and piece of how that process was. Sometimes people just aren't ready to give up things that are hurting them, even when they hurt a lot. Especially when they hurt a lot. When things hurt a lot, the choice becomes between remaining frozen in the moment you were first hurt badly, or facing down that hurt and all the wicked beliefs it's planted in your head. The latter is relatively short time in comparison to the former, but it also is a choice between slowly baking and jumping in the fire. Both hurt. You have to be ready for the inferno before you jump in, and I respect the people who are baking as much as those who ran into the flame - they're both doing their best, and the categories aren't mutually exclusive.
I feel an assurance that I don't have to have all the answers in order to be alright, and that, my friends, is why I'm a religious person. Well, that's one reason. You don't forget the faces of those who loved you when all else was lost, and Jesus Christ was (and is) the only really consistent one. That's another reason. But, in any case, faith is a gift. Something I've learned is that when all hell breaks loose, it's because heaven's on the move, too. And I actually take comfort when things go terribly, terribly wrong because there is some opposite force on its way.
I've concluded some new things (well, new to saying out loud, not new to knowing):
1. I've spent a lot of time hustling for a sense of worthiness, and now I'm leaving that behind as best as I can to become a warrior for others' sense of worthiness (specifically the women who have become family to me, most of which who have experienced some emotional, physical and/or sexual abuse).
2. I'm at a stage of reset in life, somewhere I've been before and become discouraged by. I'm not this time because I realize that what I lack in things I more than makeup for in emotional, spiritual and physical resiliency.
3. I am incredibly, hugely and immensely lucky forever and ever to have the people in my life that I do - old friends and new, young and old, from all kinds of backgrounds. They are incredible. I have the kind of friends and family who don't just bend over backward for me when I need them but will go out of their way to help someone who is stranger to them just because I asked them too. They are gentle, they make me feel safe, they challenge me everyday, and I love them very much.
4. I am learning how to better notice people who are and have always been there for me, and ignore the ones who make a point to be rude. I still struggle sometimes.
5. Charity and the need for it trumps everything else. When in doubt, practice charity. I have never regretted a choice to be kind.
6. Things will get better for me because I am determined they will get better for me. I am empowered to change my life for the better, and I have all the tools I need to make things well with me.
7. It's humbling to be a human being, and I know almost nothing but I'm excited to learn everything.
8. I'm ever-improving at receiving love without an anxiety and expectation of reciprocating. That's incredibly difficult for me, but it's how I give love and I recently learned that rejecting acts of charity often feels like rejection of the person giving them, and that's not something I want to do.
Now, I will come out and say that it's generally sucky that I can't sleep for more than 5 hours straight, but if I'm going to be up at 3 am, I'm going to take an epsom salt bath and exfoliate my skin with my charcoal bar and wash my makeup brushes and clean my bathroom and change my sheets and do a whole bunch of other things that specifically belong on the list of nod your head but think, yeah, like that's going to happen. Which is... kind of fun, I guess. And eating, and blogging and meditating by candlelight (I actually make a point to make time for that as it keeps me sane and positive).
So, I want to make this positive. I'm sitting in my sanctuary (bedroom) with my candles and lanterns burning and incense and I feel reflective. There are so many reasons that I could feel upset right now, but I've found that it's all a choice. Some choices are more difficult than others, and some people have more tools to make those choices easier (and I'm lucky enough to be one of those people), but they are choices nonetheless.
There's a few things going on right now that make me feel both a jittery sense of unease, sorrow or frustration and an absolute assurance that things will be okay. I'm a living dichotomy, and this is no exception. In accepting my own imperfections and embracing that I'm going to be a mess sometimes, I've found a certain peace. It's in my temperament to be a fighter - from day one, when my heart didn't work like other people's, to today when I struggle to feel a sense of connection to this body I'm so accustomed to battling with.
Today was difficult because I was in the room with someone who hurt me terribly (whom I now fear) for the first time in a year and a half. Also, in the time I walked away from my family, I worked at a facility that was a family business as a caretaker for people with special needs. This family became my family of choice - and their business and work is inspired by their amazing son who brightens everything around him. I can't convey how unique and important and special he is - both in his nature and specifically to me. He's a chosen brother and I love him so dearly. I went to say goodbye to him today - he got sick and he's not going to make it through this time. I've seen a lot of death in my lifetime, and much of it feels right and peaceful, but there's an acute sense of loss with Austin leaving this earth, because he is so much of what everyone needs to be more. My heart aches for the loss of his immediate presence, and though I put on a strong face say my goodbye, I am living in shock now and I know there will be more breakdown to come.
I've been coming out with my story of abuse and neglect, addressing my anorexia and handling these things this week. I've begun to address my most unpopular statement that's gotten me a lot of flak - the idea that my immediate family lacks the emotional resiliency and maturity to have provided the support I've needed through all of these challenges (or really, any level of appropriate developmental support in the area of emotional health). I've been trying to create and maintain relationships (cheers to all the people that love me and have been patient with this process!), the most difficult thing for me because this is the first time in my life that I wasn't so traumatized by my experiences that I only feigned interest in other human beings (despite my ongoing love for the human race, I've always been quite exhausted by the idea of letting people in).
So why am I feeling peaceful? Here's the thing. In surrendering control of this all, in accepting help and allowing myself to be upset and vulnerable and allowing myself to be seen rather than crafting a careful persona for everyone I meet based on their observable (and even less observable) traits, I also surrendered the task I've taken up over the past 12 years: only giving, never receiving, love. I have spent so many years exercising compassion and convincing others of their innate worth, trying to help them leave behind the urge to hustle for a sense of worthiness and showing charity for those who I could identify had the fewest supporters. And I couldn't do it for myself.
Mostly, I wasn't ready. I won't go into why and how and when and every bit and piece of how that process was. Sometimes people just aren't ready to give up things that are hurting them, even when they hurt a lot. Especially when they hurt a lot. When things hurt a lot, the choice becomes between remaining frozen in the moment you were first hurt badly, or facing down that hurt and all the wicked beliefs it's planted in your head. The latter is relatively short time in comparison to the former, but it also is a choice between slowly baking and jumping in the fire. Both hurt. You have to be ready for the inferno before you jump in, and I respect the people who are baking as much as those who ran into the flame - they're both doing their best, and the categories aren't mutually exclusive.
I feel an assurance that I don't have to have all the answers in order to be alright, and that, my friends, is why I'm a religious person. Well, that's one reason. You don't forget the faces of those who loved you when all else was lost, and Jesus Christ was (and is) the only really consistent one. That's another reason. But, in any case, faith is a gift. Something I've learned is that when all hell breaks loose, it's because heaven's on the move, too. And I actually take comfort when things go terribly, terribly wrong because there is some opposite force on its way.
I've concluded some new things (well, new to saying out loud, not new to knowing):
1. I've spent a lot of time hustling for a sense of worthiness, and now I'm leaving that behind as best as I can to become a warrior for others' sense of worthiness (specifically the women who have become family to me, most of which who have experienced some emotional, physical and/or sexual abuse).
2. I'm at a stage of reset in life, somewhere I've been before and become discouraged by. I'm not this time because I realize that what I lack in things I more than makeup for in emotional, spiritual and physical resiliency.
3. I am incredibly, hugely and immensely lucky forever and ever to have the people in my life that I do - old friends and new, young and old, from all kinds of backgrounds. They are incredible. I have the kind of friends and family who don't just bend over backward for me when I need them but will go out of their way to help someone who is stranger to them just because I asked them too. They are gentle, they make me feel safe, they challenge me everyday, and I love them very much.
4. I am learning how to better notice people who are and have always been there for me, and ignore the ones who make a point to be rude. I still struggle sometimes.
5. Charity and the need for it trumps everything else. When in doubt, practice charity. I have never regretted a choice to be kind.
6. Things will get better for me because I am determined they will get better for me. I am empowered to change my life for the better, and I have all the tools I need to make things well with me.
7. It's humbling to be a human being, and I know almost nothing but I'm excited to learn everything.
8. I'm ever-improving at receiving love without an anxiety and expectation of reciprocating. That's incredibly difficult for me, but it's how I give love and I recently learned that rejecting acts of charity often feels like rejection of the person giving them, and that's not something I want to do.
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| This isn't Welcome to the Gun Show... the quote up there says, "Keep Smiling, the Best is Yet to Come." |
Love and Admiration,
Shareeta
Shareeta
P.S. Upcoming - a series of dedications to the people who have been helping me along the way.
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