trauma

on detachment

i remember standing in my college dorm room staring blankly atop the dresser. there was only one earring left. and i was slowly allowing the admission to sink in that i’d lost its companion. by some arbitrary form of cruel magic, it had seemingly fallen off my ear.

the earrings were not a family heirloom, not costly, not precious by any traditional measure-- i probably got them at an urban outfitters. yet i felt the frustration coursing through my body: total defeat and helplessness.

i didn’t treasure many material possessions; why did one of the few things that i leaned on to warm my daily experience have to leave me like that? as my heart sank, i held a piercingly clear recognition that i was amidst a heartbreaking turning point in my life.

devastating disappointments with family and friends taught me to always be skeptical about people on a level. close my heart off. by extension, i recognized the transient nature of any and everything as the only absolute and trained myself to be excessively detached in general. i’d become expert at cutting people off the moment i sensed any unease threatening future pain.

and this fucking earring had just owned me. staring at the dresser that day, i made the decision that i wouldn’t care about the loss of a personal possession ever again; i dressed up the declaration in zen to ease the blow but i knew that i’d just killed off another piece of my heart. almost as a test, i soon lost the majority of my few other beloved items. in cool observation, i internally recited my new mantra: “nothing ever stays anyway.”

something like 15 years later, i am still contending with this conditioning. it’s coming undone slowly.

honor the incremental re-opening of your heart. this, too, is love. <3

rude ass people

i’ve been trying a thing. when i come across stank people in real life, i take pause after my initial feeling of offense. i create space for the possibility that they may be going through something or that the only way they know how to cope with their trauma is by being an ass.

doesn’t make it “right” but it’s also their very real reality + ultimately has nothing to do with me. their choices are their own business. their capacity might be less than mine, so i also count my blessings. i try to have compassion instead of taking it personally. within reason, i think it’s better for all involved.