What I’m really getting at here is that idea of numbing one's own sensitivity just so you can power through the daily grind without letting everything get under your skin... essentially learning how to carry that weight with a bit more composure...
I think about that employee I saw the other day, just sitting there breaking down in tears, yet somehow she's expected to just wipe her eyes and keep grinding away; or that girl I heard screaming in the street last night, who will likely wake up today as if nothing happened at all. It seems like people just swallow their grief and stumble forward, refusing to let themselves completely fall apart like a house of cards.
The only kind of "support" I ever seem to encounter is that old cliché—you know the one—where people tell you that life is just an uphill battle and hardship is part of the deal. Honestly, that does absolutely nothing for me. It isn't exactly comforting to be told that everyone else is suffering too; knowing that others are struggling doesn't exactly give me a brighter lens through which to view the messiness of the world, nor does it grant me any actual strength to face it.
It’s funny how we have this knack for manufacturing our own extra layers of stress out of thin air...
I’ve been wondering lately, how do you all manage your own sensitivity without letting it turn into yet another thing to worry about? It’s like a bit of a psychological loop, isn't it? You end up worrying about the fact that you're worrying, or stressing over the very fact that you're feeling so sensitive in the first place. How do you break that cycle?
ironrider11 said:Just more desperate attention seeking... another snowflake meltdown over nothing..
👍
Now, that right there is what we call constructive criticism.
It isn't necessarily a constant thing, but rather, things have just been piling up lately, much like how a heavy snowstorm in Chicago can suddenly bury everything under several feet of white if you aren't prepared.
I am quite aware of my own personal baggage—I'm very conscious of my flaws—and honestly, I actually welcome feedback. It’s just that when someone presents criticism wrapped up in some sort of dense theological debate, it becomes a bit harder to digest, whereas direct, hitting-the-nail-on-the-head feedback is much more manageable. I suppose I don't know how everyone else operates, but personally, I find it quite stinging when I feel like someone is implying I'm being foolish, though I suspect that might be a universal human reaction.
My goal these days is to actually roll up my sleeves and work on fixing those internal cracks; I've moved past the stage where I just want to make grand statements about who I am... I truly want to do the heavy lifting.
If I'm being completely candid, I've come to realize that loneliness carries its own specific kind of ache. And that feeling is perfectly "normal," regardless of whether the person experiencing it is dealing with their own mental turbulence or not. Sometimes, you just find yourself longing for a simple message, just a little sign from someone to brighten your mood. 😵
During those stretches of time when help isn't arriving, you really ought to spend your energy addressing those personal gaps and working through your own shortcomings.
The madness is very real, I think—referring to my issues, anyway. Madness, whatever you want to call it. If I didn't possess a strong spirit and a drive to reach my absolute peak performance, I'd probably just be drifting aimlessly through life. But this gives me a real sense of purpose.
It's funny, like how certain patterns emerge; I was reading about how the left side of the body can represent maternal struggles while the right side relates to paternal ones—it's something a spiritual counselor once mentioned to me, suggesting that when you start deep cleaning your psyche, you might inadvertently lean toward one side or the other... and lately, I feel like I've shifted toward the right.
And besides, if you don't take the time to do that inner work, life has a way of throwing unexpected storms your way from all directions, and you won't even see them coming.
~This space is dedicated to anyone who finds themselves unable to join the usual threads for soul-cleansing; it’s for those who simply want to chat with others about their wildest, most untamed emotions, listen to what others have to say, and ponder potential paths forward—all without any mention of a diagnosis or whether such a thing even exists.~
I truly adore my soul ☕
And I am absolutely furious at anything that dares to threaten it. I find myself bristling at all those people who claim to be "perfectly normal," who recoil in terror from madness because they view it as something lurking on the dark side of death... whereas this "madness" is actually just a soul ☕ set free
Bill Gates
Bill Gates
I couldn't start a thread over in the Spirituality section, nor do I particularly want to..............but whatever, let's just call this a little extra breathing room for those of us feeling a bit squeezed by the world
Welcome to the Slack
The folks living in "reality" with their "Real Problems" 🤮 versus my own ethereal ones... ☕
Dan Quayle, it HURTS
I'm currently resolving father issues, and apparently, that manifests as pain on the right side of my body.
When the pain hits the left side, that's when it's mother issues.
My hand, my eye, my temple... everything is throbbing. It hurts like hell to witness everyone else's fear of losing their minds—that collective anxiety is exhausting. Meanwhile, I’m just here living with my beautiful, dark little soul as it pulses right through my brain.
Is it really my fault that AT&T hasn't sent out my new card yet? It just hasn't arrived... And honestly, what's the point in swearing at random strangers over some stupid piece of plastic?
I suppose it isn't particularly graceful to let my frustration boil over into pure hatred and destruction, though I have to say, there is something almost sacred about letting a bit of colorful language fly. In many ways, it feels more primal and honest to let out a raw, animalistic shout than to carefully curate every single word we utter, don't you think?
I swear, I can’t take hearing "fuck" anymore; every time someone lets it slip, I feel this sudden, intense urge to just slam my head against a wall until the constant stream of profanity finally stops. It's like a repetitive little trigger, and frankly, neither the universe nor some mindless automated system is going to get off on my misery.
I’m not one to resort to profanity myself—in fact, the whole thing really bothers me. To be perfectly honest, I find the constant swearing quite infuriating. There's a part of me that just wants to go out and tackle those people like a linebacker on a Sunday afternoon.
It feels like this sort of scattered, aimless anger, you know? Watching someone lash out with foul language, especially when they direct it toward something sacred like the Bible, is truly jarring to me, and that's not even counting my own personal faith. It’s honestly like watching someone pick a fight with a grandfather clock that hasn't done anything wrong; they’re just attacking something innocent for no reason at all.
It’s nothing more than cowardice.
And if there is one thing in this world that truly frightens me, it’s cowards.
I have this theory that the ego tends to inflate itself when it’s actually shrinking, yet somehow manages to feel incredibly small even when it's acting quite large. Honestly, whenever people start lecturing about the "ego" as if it were some tangible object—like you're sitting there discussing a sack of Russet potatoes—it usually ends up sounding rather foolish.
Speaking of which, if we look at the principles of Reality Transurfing, there is a fascinating perspective on the ego. There is this concept regarding the "self," specifically how it manifests when it's feeling miserable, or when it isn't elevating itself, or perhaps when it's bogged down by insecurities and refuses to act any differently... which essentially leads to a cycle of making excuses, feeling guilt, and so on. It reminds me of how a gardener might try to fix a wilted leaf without checking the soil; Vadim Zeland makes this brilliant point that you can't simply remove the cause, only the consequence. He really grasped that fundamental shift. If you simply stop making excuses, the very need to justify yourself begins to evaporate.
Of course, it isn't quite that effortless in practice, because I often find myself spiraling into a loop where I just start inventing even less convincing excuses to cover my tracks.
I really admire Vadim’s work; his logic is incredibly sound.
Betty Patel172 said:A solid explanation. It seems whenever I deal with my mother, I can just tell her to stay the course; there is nothing new under the sun. 🙂
The thing is, a mother is a constant presence in our lives.
I find myself dealing with these sudden gaps in my memory quite often; for instance, someone brought up a conversation about gluing vases together recently, and I honestly couldn't recall who said it or when it even happened. It’s one of those things that triggers this deep sense of embarrassment in me, especially when I'm by myself. When I'm out in a group, though, I just own it—I'll simply say, "I can't remember," or "My brain isn't cooperating today."
Attention deficits, these little memory voids... My doctor insists they are merely symptoms of the underlying issue.
But during our last appointment, I confessed to him how much it actually shames me, yet he maintains there's absolutely no reason to feel that way.
There was also a woman following the protocol who mentioned her brain feels like it's running in slow motion, asking me to be patient with her. It seems these experiences are actually quite "normal" within this context.
I suppose we all need to find a way to coexist with these things—the symptoms, the physical aches, the sheer frustration of it all. It would be wonderful if we could just laugh it off, but you can't exactly force humor, and leaning into sarcasm or cynicism feels hollow since it doesn't actually fix a single thing.
I live with a personality disorder, but I’ve been working through it for quite a while now; if I weren't such a fragile soul, I’d practically be in full remission by now. See, having a personality disorder is essentially feeling like the whole world is out to get you. It's different from neuroticism, where people are more focused on their own flaws—you know, those folks who are constantly chasing the next cosmetic procedure or perfect manicure because they feel they have to be better, and even though they blame others when a bad day hits, generally speaking, they think the world is fine and they're just out there hustling to make their mark.
I’ve finally moved past the idea that the world is fundamentally broken. Nowadays, if I had to point to my one singular struggle, it would be shame.
And look, I realize everyone experiences shame. We all carry some little bit of neurosis inside us; even someone who desperately wants a more athletic physique probably feels a sense of shame regarding their current body, though dwelling on that certainly won't help them reach their fitness goals.
In my case, I find myself feeling ashamed of my mental landscape, which can be incredibly delicate. My therapist tells me that there is absolutely no reason to feel ashamed of this, and honestly, that realization is actually my biggest hurdle. Let me reiterate: I don't view my surroundings as the villain anymore, and all that stuff we were told as kids about how we should be embarrassed by our behavior... well, that doesn't really matter now. As my doctor puts it, certain things might have contributed to my condition back in the day, but that was then, and it doesn't dictate my present (you can try to argue otherwise, of course, but...)
People certainly tried to hammer that sense of shame into me growing up, but I don't let it touch me anymore. The thing that actually eats at me is the shame I felt for being so easily affected. I feel ashamed that I was so sensitive, and then I feel an extra layer of shame for being ashamed of that sensitivity in the first place. When other people noticed how fragile I was, they usually viewed it with total neutrality, or maybe even a hint of envy. But I? I wanted to be the tough one, the person everyone looked up to. I wasted so much precious energy on things that didn't matter.
There was even a time when I overdosed, all because of this overwhelming sense of shame... I did something foolish and I just wanted to hit the reset button, to somehow kill that feeling of embarrassment once and for all.
But the thing is, if you fight against it, it only grows. I could really use some support from you all as I try to learn how to embrace my own shame.
Maybe—and it's highly likely—just as I used to think I was the only one hurting while everyone else lived perfectly, perhaps everyone carries shame in their own way. Even when I admit it, I can't help but think that others might just be better at managing their shame than I am.
It’s mostly that I feel ashamed in front of myself. 🍿 Not so much in front of others, actually. It feels a bit backwards, doesn't it? Being more self-conscious than social-conscious. I don't quite know how to explain it, but it paralyzes me; the shame keeps me stuck, yet once I actually start doing something, that feeling tends to fade away.
Roger Kern16 said:I think I’ve been calling infatuation Love for way too long. Same goes for that anxiety you get from those toxic push-pull relationships... It just isn't it. Love is more of a state of being than some fleeting emotion, and you can only really measure it by actions. I don't (really) believe it should be a source of weakness, sadness, or suffering anymore; if that's what you're feeling, then it’s just pathology or something else entirely.
"It's only love and that's all"
I would argue that those intense emotions aren't actually substitutes for love, but rather just one specific, often distorted, manifestation of it.
If you were raised with the idea—drilled into your head from a young age—that loving someone means constant self-sacrifice, then you might just be using that sacrifice to compensate for a lack of steady, reliable affection, but that doesn't necessarily mean the love itself isn't there.
The absolute hardest part is when, driven by pure fear, you find yourself telling someone else that it’s probably best if you just stop seeing each other altogether. It happens because you start feeling like you're nothing more than a heavy burden to them.
It’s those manipulative, ultimatum-style behaviors that creep in—not because anyone intends to be cruel, mind you, but more as a byproduct of deep-seated pain and a sense of nihilism that just feels impossible to keep under control.
Ultimately, what matters most is how much awareness you bring to your own lack of emotional flexibility. Because it isn't just about the other person; you start convincing yourself that you don't deserve anything good simply because you have a short fuse, or perhaps because you struggle to tolerate the inevitable friction and discomfort that exists in every single relationship. When those heavy emotions hit us, our instinct is often just to push everything away so we can make the feeling stop.
Gerald Morgan4, when I was talking about empathy and regret, I was actually referring to those self-proclaimed "experts" who, in my honest opinion, don't really fit the bill at all.
As for this whole display of empathy—I mean, sure, in certain high-stress moments it might serve a purpose, but generally speaking, I believe empathy should be a tool we use to actually solve a problem rather than just a performance we put on for others.
Donna White50... Well, I go for my check-ups about once a month. Since I’m just as sharp as you are, I’m perfectly capable of doing some of my own internal work... I am actively trying to move away from this habit of seeing everything in such strict black-and-white terms. Why is it so difficult to find the right words? It’s quite simple, really; when you're carrying a heavier burden of pain, you tend to think that if you just try harder, you'll express yourself more beautifully, but instead, you often just end up feeling like a complete idiot.
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.
This is my deepest source of pain, and honestly, it’s driving me absolutely out of my mind. I don't experience panic attacks all the time, but rather only when certain triggers get activated; I remember my very first one happened at a local Barnes & Noble, where a clerk stepped away to find a book for me, and suddenly, everything just spiraled.
It feels as though the strength is completely drained from my legs, and if I try to fight against that sensation, I am hit by this overwhelming surge of rage—not an uncontrollable impulse, mind you, but more like a sudden, intense drive to start pounding on things with a rhythm that feels almost violent.
I find myself feeling this irrational anger toward strangers, too. It isn't even about actually interacting with them; it’s just that split second when we pass each other in a hallway or on a sidewalk. In reality, the anger isn't truly directed at them, but is instead a byproduct of this constant, nagging fear of abandonment that follows me everywhere. It oscillates between pure terror and fury, and I find myself dreading the third emotion, because it never seems to last—that sense of genuine trust in others.
It isn't always like this, and I honestly don't know how I would cope if I were stuck in that state indefinitely, so I have to believe it will eventually recede. It just seems that my tendency to constantly ruminate on my own mental state has become a cycle. This all stems from my original trauma. It’s how I felt throughout my childhood, a heavy mixture of anxiety and sadness. I grew up surrounded by these frequent "jokes" about people leaving, while the parent who was supposed to be my constant presence would "accidentally" abandon me just as often.