It’s a new morning, but yesterday’s and the foremonths’ shit that affected you in whatever way is still lingering. You can feel it hardening you, yet numbing you simultaneously. You dive into hyper-analytical mode and you get angry. You become sad. You become regretful. All at once. And you’re just not sure how to handle it all.
You think about the coagulation of the last few months. How occurrences have taken away your compassion and your empathy rendering desensitization like you’ve never experienced. You make a pledge to yourself that you will no longer be in the business of being the one that gives most or all of the effort. You’re revoking the rights of your inner empath. You’re done with always viewing situations as your own. You’re over trying to understand the thought processes and reasonings of others when it doesn’t seem like anyone gives a shit about yours. You’ve said goodbye to the daunting task of giving individuals the benefit of the doubt when they’ve proven before that they are undeserving. Your solution to proceeding with caution and discernment to prevent the shattering of egos is a strong Fuck allat.
You wonder why God gave you this ability. The ability to feel every damn thing so deeply. So compassionately and full of thought and reason. You just can’t wrap your head around why God feels you should be the one to care so intensely that you pour in most or all of the love and support and not get that in return. And so many other questions follow:
Why is this my responsibility?
What is it about me that says ‘Ask her what you should do about your life. Ask her for advice.’ But when I need that same courtesy, birds in the trap sing Brian Mcknight?
Why am I always tasked with being that friend that does the reaching out.. giving that 110% of support.. the one that always provides some type of words of encouragement?
Why am I the only one who considers other people’s feelings & if they will be negatively affected my by words or actions?
Who has my back when I fall? Who’s giving 110% to me? Who’s encouraging me? Who’s consciously using their gift of discernment?
Where the hell is MY reciprocity?
And then you’re angry again. Because survey says it’s no one’s fault but your own — for being so sensitive. But if you weren’t so sensitive and empathetic, they’d never feel comfortable enough to come to you — bearing all of their fears, insecurities, and dreams to you because you’re the only one that gets them.
Selective memory is a bitch.
Then your inner empath fights for that small piece of you that hasn’t been calloused. That part of you that smiles when you see the good in a situation or a person. That part of you that is genuinely happy when you see someone win. That part of you that knows that there is still some good left in the world and that the world needs more people like you.
And in times like these, you make sure you focus on the good — even when it’s the hardest thing to do at the moment. In times such as this, you take inventory of your life. Remembering who had your back. Remembering who held you all the way the fuck down. Remembering who listened to you cry & taking note of who wiped your tears and your snotty ass nose. Those who cheered for you and believed in you more than you did yourself. Honoring those who told you they were only one call away and meant that shit. Even if you feel that at any given time, that person is you.