It's been a while.
I have several posts that were meant to be published before this one but I'm afraid this particular one couldn't wait.
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Empathy... It's a horrifyingly beautiful thing. I'd like to believe most relatively "sane" people on this earth possess at least an ounce of it. This could be considered the human standard or minimum decency level.
I happen to possess about five tons of it. And sometimes, that can be the hardest thing in the world.
Forgive me as I go off on a tangent here, but I don't think I could ever explain how much hurt I feel when another is in pain. Instinctually, I care about everything that moves or breathes or lives or simply is. I develop a protectiveness over them all—hoping, in vain, that I can shelter each and every one of them from that which causes them pain.
I don't tend to talk about it unless we're super close but I've played my fair share of battles against depression and anxiety. I can proudly say I've come a long way compared to where I used to be. So yes, I am genuinely proud of myself.
Good job, Maya.
I am in a happier place than I used to be.
But, that does not mean that the darkest corners of my brain have ceased to exist. No, they're still very much alive but I rarely stumble across them anymore. Most of the occupied area of my mind shines with uncontainable light, generally blinding anyone who dares enter it. My point being, I hold far too much happy inside of me that it confuses some people XD That being said, those who do have the pleasure, if not "interesting experience" of meeting my mind, are often delighted by the brightness there. I like to think I'm full of sunshine and squirrels and ice cream and happy thoughts.
Still, there are times when stress or sadness or anger get the better of me, and so I retreat back to the dark, secluded corners of my brain. I haven't dusted up there in a long while so for the most part, it just makes me sneeze.
Hah. I made a joke. See, 'cuz you sneeze when you feel sick and being up in the attic of my brain makes me feel sick, get it?
I'm not really sure how to describe it to you.
It feels cold. Sort of like the wind felt outside today. The kind where you wish you had on gloves and a hat or wish that you'd brought an extra coat. You sit there on the floor—by yourself—and you begin to wonder if you really are alone and whether these dust bunnies and cobwebs just keep appearing or whether you keep putting them there? After a few minutes, you think you're starting to feel peaceful, even though you're alone, except your eyes aren't accustomed to the dark yet—not in the least—but you don't want to be sitting on the ground anymore so you get up and explore. It doesn't take you long to realize you've come to the front of a door. You're not sure how it got there and you're not sure where it will take you but curiosity takes the better of you, so you push it open. You've now entered somewhere more quiet—more peaceful—yet this place drowns in darkness you've never even dreamed of. Your eyes can't perceive any depth whatsoever so you reach out your hands to feel out the walls. You're in a maze. You turn left; there's no exit. You turn right a couple times; there's no exit.You're in there for what feels like hours and by now you wish you hadn't strayed from the original door. You hear the dull sound of something slamming shut. Slowly, but growing in intensity, the slamming is nearing you. It's chasing you. It's dark, the walls are closing in, the slamming is muffling your shouts. You can't get out. You can't get out. You can't get out. Your chest heaves gulps of air in and out and in and out but it's only getting darker and now screams have joined the slamming but you can't tell if they're someone else's or your own. Your chest is on fire but you gotta keep breathing to survive. The sounds become deafening and before the worst is over you open your eyes and you're back in your little dark corner full of dust bunnies and moth balls and you wonder if you ever even moved from that spot in the first place?
I'm sorry if I got a bit sidetracked there.
Back to my point: empathy. It's a bitch. A beautiful bitch, but a bitch nonetheless.
I've never had any children and I don't plan on it for a long while but I'd imagine empathy/protectiveness is 90% of what a mother—a parent—feels. It's like you want to shelter that someone from anything that could ever possibly go wrong. And if anything does go wrong, it's like you're experiencing the pain yourself. You want to wrap them up in a hug and never let them go. You want to shower them in kisses and tell them that they are loved. So so so loved. You want to tell them that they are not alone, that they are never alone and should never have to feel alone. You want to tell them that they are beautiful, and special, and clever, and loved. You want them to see themselves the way you see them: as a ray of sunshine or a shooting star or the moon or a sweater on a rainy day. You want them to feel so fucking happy and you want to sew up all the holes in their despair. You never want them to feel hopeless.
And so yes, I may have an excess of empathy, but no matter how much it drains me at times, I like to think I'm exceptionally lucky.
Not many human beings (that I know of) care so deeply for matters that don't even directly concern them. How lucky I am to love so unconditionally.
Because along with the bad times, come the good times, and it's the good times that I live for.
When someone scores their first goal; or when they hit that note they never thought they could reach; or when they play a piece so beautifully, I think I might cry; or when they finish a masterpiece that's taken them weeks to complete; or when they get an A on a test; or when they're excited about seeing a friend they haven't seen in months; or when they've had a fantastic night; or when they dance to their heart's content; or when they write a poem that leaves me speechless; or when they're giddy about eating a cupcake; or when you can just see the plain joy across their face, radiating from within; or when you see their simple smile that lights up the whole room.
Those are the moments that make it worth it. Those are the things that make all the pain so much more bearable.
Because there is so much pain in this world; so much misery; so much suffering. But I couldn't stand to live my whole life focusing on the negative.
Yes, there is pain. Yes, there is suffering. Yes, there is misery.
But there is also joy, and there is excitement, and there is bliss.
Feeling both isn't necessarily bad. It just means you're human.
..........
Hasta la proxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
P.S: Thanks for toughing it out with me, C <3
<3 That's all I've got
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