Unplugging and Dissociation
I’ve been too afraid to write these days… Too undone to put it all on paper, into the Universe— proof of a truly turbulent time. Yet, in the middle of several storms, I managed to write a piece that I’m proud of for a platform I’ve been admiring for quite some time now. So, I’ve still written. I’ve been journaling and writing as therapy… I think what’s been troubling me as a professional writer are the necessary mental health breaks I need to take [in between pieces I’m passionate about]. Gaining independence during early adulthood with a seemingly never-ending pandemic as the backdrop, I’ve come to realize is time consuming, heartbreaking, and really hard.
Talking amongst my close friends, these feelings are the consensus. These 20s are far from what we’d expected. As the world rapidly [and traumatically] changes, suffering is starting to feel like less and less of a choice; even with spurts of success here and there. In previous blog posts I’ve stressed the importance of celebrating small wins and giving ourselves credit for our achievements instead of being so overtly critical of ourselves. I’ve struggled with this. During a pandemic when everything is different, there’s a lot of negativity in the air. It’s become imperative for me to give myself grace and step back, to not be consumed by [a lot] of information that at this point, I am aware does not positively affect my mental health. I’m making a habit of unplugging and dissociation, no social media apps, and focusing on self-care; moving with the intention of becoming a [mentally, physically, spiritually, etc.] healthier person. Most times we do get wrapped up in the lives of others and we forget to focus on our own. Right now, I’ve had to painfully realize, is the time to focus on me, myself, and I.
When I say painfully realize, I am currently grieving. It’s been over a year of loss— multiple losses, and I never truly felt [or feel] prepared. Why wouldn’t we be, at the very least, emotional about life’s surprises? Relationships I wish lasted much longer have ended, I’ve had a death in my family, my life path got rocky as hell, and I’ve needed to cry every day. I’ve craved solitude. I’ve craved a vacation, an escape— something to focus on while all this dust settles. I’ve been fighting the feeling that maybe it never will. Still, everything is moving forward, as linear as time seems. Onwards, and though this seldom means progression, I have faith in change.
This is the first time I’ve willfully sat down and forced something from my fingertips in a long time. Something that has encouraged me to dig deeper and open up more about my wounds. Puffy-eyed in front of an open window in Brooklyn, on a Sunday afternoon in August… I’m thinking about my birthday next month; and how being 25 never crossed my mind until fairly recently. For years I couldn’t see past my own trauma(s). I’m thinking about what love means to me, how my love has changed over the years, and how I am learning to love myself. I’m learning how infinite love is— a connection we should honor more, so powerful sometimes it hurts. I’m thinking about the journey I am on, how I’ve had to choose myself so much lately and move forward, even in pain. I’m thinking about flowers growing, and caterpillars morphing. I never questioned if their growth was painful until now. I am learning all that it takes to blossom and become the best version of myself; and that’s where my focus lies.
