Sometimes I feel like I have disconnected with the outside world.
I feel like I have to sometimes when everything around me seems overwhelmingly strong.
I have always been more “sensitive” than those around me, resulting in confusion of why I feel this way; why I felt invalidated for being aware of things people wanted to shove under the rug. Perhaps this is why I cried so much as a baby. Perhaps this is why I have always been a good listener and a great empathetic friend. Perhaps this is why people in my past felt better after they dumped their pent up emotional baggage on me. I am like a sponge, soaking in everything and everyone around me, mistaking it for myself and my own emotions, and neglecting my own well being while relieving others of their negative feelings. Perhaps this is why sometimes I feel like hiding in my art studio, away from the world, to focus just on me.
I am learning though; learning how to observe these sensations and not identify with them. It takes a lot of practice to undo the 30-some years of habitual taking things personally.
It’s comforting to know that I am on my way to understanding my place in the world. Day by day, I am on my way.