I’m grieving my impulsivity, which I previously regarded as all things passion and therefore true.
Quick connections, assumptions….. firing squad quick. Life or death. Ride or die. I wasn’t wrong many times, but it wasn’t right for me either. It was always the one in my story. I was always so sure so fast. What I didn’t bargain on was how this was wired into me, and how little control I really had over it.
I have since learned to practice action over feeling. Actions tell the reality of any situations. And one foot in front of the other you can lay down stability and security with only your own, no need to scream about mistreatment, to panic, to drop to your knees.
Though when you do need to please allow yourself. There is beauty in the breakdown.
I’d need to know me to figure that out, not just how to present a presentable human to the outside world.
Shortcuts do not make for a whole person or experience.
All in Christina, one day at a time, crystal clear boundaries, let them figure it out.
Let go
You never had control anyway, all you ever had was anxiety.
My impulsivity has led me into more lies, more unsafe situations, and on and on, than are imaginable.
Let’s better understand what my history means my impulsivity truly is. Constant and desperately seeking feeling loveable, wanted, loved, desired, and as if I had the capacity to provide those things.
As if….
And to be able to feel it before I better understood my trauma it often, if not always needed to be intense.
To confuse feeling intensely wanted with being loved can lead to the stuff of nightmares I can tell you that.
Often in recovery people struggle with boredom and destructive thought patterns. I find it helpful to walk and to read and to keep things as simple as possible.
Total and utter presence with only the tasks at hand.
I now know you don’t have to respond to every battle you’re invited to, and I preached it long before I was able to practice it.
For me it helps to learn to divide my focus between the many important pillars of my life. Rather than getting caught in story traps, and painful regrettable all or nothing states.
I’m halfway through my second mile, it’s beginning to rain. I’ve been listening to Matthew Perry’s memoir, which my thoughts often trail to how I’d write my own.
A plan like many before them has taken shape as a way to organize. List every single influential character in my story and write as many sentences describing those experiences as comes naturally to me. No more or no less and see what weaves together just from that.
Perhaps I’ll do the same with places I’ve lived.
Stay tuned