Dare me... on how I dare myself
In a truly confusing, transforming and overwhelming season of questioning everything, including Substack.
Like many on here I try to escape the fast paced, censored and advertised social media space to keep the last remaining parts of sanity in my brain and maintain some sort of mental health and emotional maturity.
Yet, as it is known apps are designed to keep us in a dopamine loop and addicted to screens, and guess what: I am writing this on my laptop for others to receive via an app. I feel hypocrite 2.0. And of course that is the world we live in now. We get to at least - on some level - choose what and how we consume, and there is great stuff out there in various forms.
But I also want to spend my precious moments lying next to my napping son, watching him curl his plump rosy lips into a pout and then wiggle, trying to suck on his hand before realising the desired nipple is only a grab away.
I don´t want to spend these precious moments glued to the screen, hunting for yet another picture of yet another acquaintance or online connection. And to be honest, same goes for life stories, poetry and words on here.
I have to admit, that my nervous system reached its input levels.
Which means output is necessary, and I know these are waves of ebb and flow and there are plenty of times I enjoy leaning back and indulging in other peoples wisdom or casual life entertainment.
But for now, when I am actually trying to navigate mental overstimulation I make it hard for myself to pour out my thoughts, and words, and pictures. Because I don´t want to feed the machine that possibly causes this overwhelm for others, too.
My previous tactic was speaking to my close friends but mainly keeping my thoughts hidden from the world wide web. Only to then get frustrated when others voice similar processes and are heard when I feel unseen.
What is this fear to speak honestly, openly?
I am so focused on integrity that I block my own road, because Dare me if I take an unintegral step.
Dare me talk about the doom day dopamine digs on an app.
Dare me talk about concerns in the space of concern.
Dare me share my true feelings with a friend that hurt me.
Can you relate?
Can you relate to the self imposed strictness and parallel anger when seeing others incongruency but they simply don´t care?
Someone please help. I am trying to be more human, more imperfect yet striving to embody my values for a better world (at least in my own little bubble). I want to set a good example, be a kind role model and at the same time I have to accept that I also fuck up sometimes or have my own blindspots.
I am too afraid of other people´s opinions.
I am scared to ruffle feathers. Also because I want to believe in a world where we don´t need to ruffle any feathers because we admire, respect or at least accept the variety of feathers there are. No need to upset anyone. Yet clearly I have to come to terms with doing that, despite not wanting to do it.
Growth seeds in discomfort.
Change blossoms in curiosity.
Expansions roots in acceptance.
I often feel a sense of powerlessness and survival threat when someone misunderstands me.
It sits deep within my bones. I wonder if it comes from the days of the witch hunts, when only a mere accusation from someone was enough to end one persons life and ruin so many more.
The other day at my dad´s and his partner´s place, we were talking about the privilege to live how we do now: sheltered, fed, content. My dad jokingly said to his partner - who opposed some of our thoughts - how grateful she should be not to have been born in the medieval times when she could have been accused for being a witch. She immediately replied “Oh not me! But your daughter FOR SURE would have been burn at the stake”.
I can see the compliment in this (I don´t shave my legs and still wear short dresses, question the main narrative and don´t hold back with my truth), but it does make a strong point:
Once an opinion is formed about you in someone else´s head, once the reputation spreads and the identity is standing on its own feet - there is no halt.
You can´t change other people´s perceptions of yourself.
For someone like me who dreads being misunderstood, this is a death sentence.
And also the key to rebirth.
