Matthew Cruz44 said:There isn't inherently anything wrong with the concept of "growing up," but there’s certainly nothing inherently good about it either; you can't just assume someone's intentions are pure, because more often than not, malicious motives hide behind a veil of philosophy, flattery, or a desire for control.
Personally, I find myself reacting quite negatively to excessive empathy—that specific kind where I pick up on a vibration from someone that they’re actually just pitying me.
I truly have so much I want to say regarding this subject, and even regarding other topics entirely, yet I simply find myself unable to do so. There are moments when I feel paralyzed, unable to even process a thought. It’s almost as if I have this deep-seated fear of venturing into that inner space where I formulate my actual opinions, feeling somehow inadequate, as if the mere act of voicing something coherent would drain my battery completely and leave me lifeless.
It all traces back to childhood, naturally. I doubt Donna White50 was particularly affected by this flying sensation, though perhaps it struck a nerve so sensitive that she avoids thinking about it just to prevent herself from falling apart.
...There is so much I want to express, so much I want to accomplish... and yet, a part of me wishes it could all just vanish. I don't mean that in a suicidal sense, but quite literally, I am terrified of the sheer exhaustion it requires; growing up, I was constantly being dragged into these long-lasting domestic scandals and shouting matches, and I’d wake up the next day feeling like a small child, lacking any energy to pull myself together.
And now, here I am, getting all tangled up in my own thoughts... falling into that same foolish, childish pattern of dwelling on the past. I honestly don't know why
I could have written a post detailing what I truly intend to say—about the fear of abandonment—but I refrained for two specific reasons:
First, I wouldn't have been able to pull it off,
And second, even if I had succeeded, I would still end up alone regardless.
In either scenario............................... I’ll just write another post properly later.
Whenever I feel that kind of thing coming on, I get this sudden, intense urge to just punch that "empath" right in the face. 😁
You can’t truly feel empathy—actually stepping into someone else's shoes—while simultaneously feeling pity for them because you're overwhelmed by their emotions. There is a massive difference between "sending" love and compassion and simply feeling pity. Pity is transparent; it’s a subtle way of looking down on someone, essentially placing yourself above them. An expert who falls into that trap might be technically skilled, but they aren't a healer in the true sense of the word. In those moments, they're just protecting their own inflated ego from your pain, and from their own emotional depth. At the end of the day, we can't possibly mirror an emotion in someone else if we don't possess even a small spark of it within ourselves.
"Quote:"
Matthew Cruz44 said:There isn't inherently anything wrong with the concept of "growing up," but there’s certainly nothing inherently good about it either; you can't just assume someone's intentions are pure, because more often than not, malicious motives hide behind a veil of philosophy, flattery, or a desire for control.
Personally, I find myself reacting quite negatively to excessive empathy—that specific kind where I pick up on a vibration from someone that they’re actually just pitying me.
I truly have so much I want to say regarding this subject, and even regarding other topics entirely, yet I simply find myself unable to do so. There are moments when I feel paralyzed, unable to even process a thought. It’s almost as if I have this deep-seated fear of venturing into that inner space where I formulate my actual opinions, feeling somehow inadequate, as if the mere act of voicing something coherent would drain my battery completely and leave me lifeless.
It all traces back to childhood, naturally. I doubt Donna White50 was particularly affected by this flying sensation, though perhaps it struck a nerve so sensitive that she avoids thinking about it just to prevent herself from falling apart.
...There is so much I want to express, so much I want to accomplish... and yet, a part of me wishes it could all just vanish. I don't mean that in a suicidal sense, but quite literally, I am terrified of the sheer exhaustion it requires; growing up, I was constantly being dragged into these long-lasting domestic scandals and shouting matches, and I’d wake up the next day feeling like a small child, lacking any energy to pull myself together.
And now, here I am, getting all tangled up in my own thoughts... falling into that same foolish, childish pattern of dwelling on the past. I honestly don't know why
I could have written a post detailing what I truly intend to say—about the fear of abandonment—but I refrained for two specific reasons:
First, I wouldn't have been able to pull it off,
And second, even if I had succeeded, I would still end up alone regardless.
In either scenario............................... I’ll just write another post properly later.
Well, you said it, and you’re still here. 🎉
"Quote:"
Matthew Cruz44 said:There isn't inherently anything wrong with the concept of "growing up," but there’s certainly nothing inherently good about it either; you can't just assume someone's intentions are pure, because more often than not, malicious motives hide behind a veil of philosophy, flattery, or a desire for control.
Personally, I find myself reacting quite negatively to excessive empathy—that specific kind where I pick up on a vibration from someone that they’re actually just pitying me.
I truly have so much I want to say regarding this subject, and even regarding other topics entirely, yet I simply find myself unable to do so. There are moments when I feel paralyzed, unable to even process a thought. It’s almost as if I have this deep-seated fear of venturing into that inner space where I formulate my actual opinions, feeling somehow inadequate, as if the mere act of voicing something coherent would drain my battery completely and leave me lifeless.
It all traces back to childhood, naturally. I doubt Donna White50 was particularly affected by this flying sensation, though perhaps it struck a nerve so sensitive that she avoids thinking about it just to prevent herself from falling apart.
...There is so much I want to express, so much I want to accomplish... and yet, a part of me wishes it could all just vanish. I don't mean that in a suicidal sense, but quite literally, I am terrified of the sheer exhaustion it requires; growing up, I was constantly being dragged into these long-lasting domestic scandals and shouting matches, and I’d wake up the next day feeling like a small child, lacking any energy to pull myself together.
And now, here I am, getting all tangled up in my own thoughts... falling into that same foolish, childish pattern of dwelling on the past. I honestly don't know why
I could have written a post detailing what I truly intend to say—about the fear of abandonment—but I refrained for two specific reasons:
First, I wouldn't have been able to pull it off,
And second, even if I had succeeded, I would still end up alone regardless.
In either scenario............................... I’ll just write another post properly later.
I know that feeling all too well... that heavy, hollow sensation where you just wish you could disappear. You want to sink straight into the ground, become completely invisible, or maybe just launch yourself toward some distant planet—anything to escape a situation that feels impossible to walk away from and absolutely unbearable. It’s more exhausting than anything else I've ever dealt with. The real way out isn't about accepting the circumstances themselves—because you aren't a child anymore, and you don't have to stay stuck in places where you don't feel safe or welcome—it's about accepting yourself. It's about embracing that confused, frightened part of you that, somehow, still feels like a little kid lost in the dark.