October'20 Moodboard - Let Me Build My Home

Lately I have been feeling strongly about the behaviors elicited in response to the normality in the spaces I occupy; my own that is. I am hyper aware now of where I stand when it comes to how to be, who to be, and what to be. this hyper awareness is coming at a cost. I am more isolated. I am more inside my head. I used to be so proud of being able to empathize. But lately I have been unable to come out of my own obscurity. Its as if I am eclipsing myself.

I don't want that. But I kind of somehow do? Like, I am very fond of my ability to catch the littlest gestures that determine what I feel about those movements; movements of vocal cords, and the bodies that hold them. The cartilaged biases are unaware that I see them, I hear them, I sense them. I think I am being naïve when I say they don't know. I think they do know. Which is why I am finding it hard to fit in, or letting other people fit into my world. I am building my home. Let me.

I have been thinking a lot about how people are right when they say that you see the upbringing of people in the way they occupy the spaces they want to call theirs. I think they forget that the spaces that welcomed them, and made them who they are are actually the only space worth working on. I don't want anyone to think that my parents are responsible for the bad in me. They are not. I am solely responsible for all the missteps I take in the spaces not my own, and all the things I do right? I would gladly give the credit to my parents. But how bad am I, and how much of my good will be mine one day?

I am so very afraid of breaking someone's efforts to make a safe space for themselves. I think the more I am growing, the more territorial I am becoming about the boundaries I have worked so hard to build. All the tears I have cried, all the books I have read, all the conversations I have had; they all served the purpose of cementing boundaries of who I am, and who I want to be. I am - in short - concerned about all the hard work going to waste. The hard work I have put to becoming who I am. But I am also aware that I am being cruel to myself when I tell myself who I am. I cannot escape the fleetingness of my identity. I think identity is hard to come by. It is held in the beliefs one has. It is reflected in actions. And it is built on the learnings of a moral pain inflicted  on us. This pain is greedy. It is always battling our inner voice trying to be the teacher. I have realized that being a teacher, or a mentor is a huge burden. I hate being idolized.

I want to be accepted for being on the wrong side of the boundaries. Is that a lot to ask? I think yes. It is.

So here I am. Understanding these inner conflicts as I am finding my place in the world. I hope I don't let myself down. And if I do, I hope I am not too hard on myself, and can steer my self back to the love I know I am capable of kindly integrating into my own hands, and letting myself sleep with a heavy, healed heart.