A Darkish Day

The end of December is rolling up here again. When so much started to change for me. It’s been longer Off now, than it ever was On, which is a little difficult to come to terms with. But, like any loss or pain that changes us, I’ll probably always take note of time passed. At least for a long while yet. Time I never thought I’d have to survive. Or make it through. Just couldn’t imagine it back then. Just couldn’t picture things this far out. Here we are. 

I’m not exactly sure what I’ve proved to myself about my threshold. If anything. Some things I don’t care to reflect on as much as I do others. Some just are. And there’s nothing more to be done.

Often there’s no summation. No tying things neatly together. No end point. No answer. No fix. No reboot. Only that moment you tried to be brave. When you tried to be reassuring. Tried to smile. That moment when you knew you were never going to speak to someone again.

I can still smile. And I do. Because I haven’t quite admitted it to myself yet. Not ready, and that’s okay. It’s just one of those things I don’t care to reflect on. Not yet. Until I am, I’m content recognizing time passed, and smiling to myself about the things that came before that moment. 

The world is still moving. Life will continue to happen. To go forward. Positively. I’ve come this far and, either way, I remain grateful for the things I’ve learned about myself in the past year. The good and bad. And thankful for what I’ve been taught by those I cared for and shared time with. Good and bad. I’m trying to accept them both, along with everything else…eventually. Time will tell.

Sam

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Adaptation, More Dirty Laundry & The Very Definition of A Good Listener

I’ve been told, ad nauseam, that I’m too sensitive…and you’re God damn right. But it’s not just an opinion. It’s a fact. To everything around me, and everyone. Every noise and every feeling. It’s not a surprise. And now, with the ‘help’ of some…we’ll call them interested counselors and psychiatrists, I’m at least partially wise to the term HSP, much to my extreme aggravation and embarrassment. But it’s become comforting the more I consider it being a thing. And not just tripe. Two and two together as it were.

Ever taken a walk, or a bike ride with earbuds crammed deep in your ears…before any music or speaking comes on. All other sound is deadened. Muffled. You’re woken up to the sound of your heartbeat. Your own breathing. The pattern of your walking. The vibration and feel of the earth under your feet or tires. You feel the movement through your whole body. From the ground up. You’re heightened to oncoming cars or any other dangers you might be missing while your ears are blocked.

Continue reading “Adaptation, More Dirty Laundry & The Very Definition of A Good Listener”

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