This weekend was kind of weird. I might want to go into it in a longer version at some point, hence the “abridged” bit in the title.
But given the time and my current brain function, I’ll just go with a brief bulleted list of highlights…
Continue reading “what this weekend made me realize (abridged)…”
Here I am at a children’s indoor playground, where little kids generally run amuck all over the place (AKA an Empath’s living hell). And it’s in the midst of this energetic chaos that I have the sudden urge to dive into this topic.
As an Empath triggered by large crowds, I suppose it’s not surprising that I would pick this moment to write about how to cope with empathic abilities.
Since Empaths easily (and most of the time, without control) absorb the energy of the people and spaces around them, they often find it difficult to distinguish their own feelings from those of others. It can be overwhelming, and sometimes debilitating.
Since the pandemic, a spotlight has been shown upon the importance of mental health and, as a result, the stigma of seeking help is slowly dissipating. Now, armed with the permission of society, many people are seeing themselves for the first time. They are finally paying attention to their minds and bodies, and learning how each reacts under pressure and when faced with extraordinary difficulties. Self-awareness is growing.
Continue reading “being an empath and how to cope”
Coming to Boise, Collin and I only knew a handful of people who lived in the area. Luckily, we had our kids (and our co-parenting family) as our tribe to lean on for support during this transition.
After some time at my job, I got to know my coworkers pretty well and spent time with them outside of the office. We lunched, shared TMI, went to birthday parties, celebrated divorces, yoga’d, and happy hour’d. This was my “MHD” tribe.
Continue reading “a quest called tribe… (pt. two)”
My older kids have always been described as “sensitive.” This word has been used both as an insult and a compliment at various points in their lives. Having grown up self-conscious of my own quick-to-cry nature, I always thought it was one of my flaws.
It took me a long time to realize that this part of me was actually a superpower. In fact, it wasn’t until long after I had my first two children that I discovered I was an empath.
Continue reading “an empath parent… (the early years)”
I realized that I was so deeply unhappy with myself that I couldn’t even look in the mirror. If I did happen to catch a glimpse of my reflection, I didn’t recognize the person staring back. I pretended not to care about my appearance after awhile, citing “#thatquarantinelife” and “#workingfromhomewithababyatoddlerapreteenandateenlife.” Though these are legitimate stressors, they are also excuses. BS excuses.
Sure, times are hard and you don’t have to be perfect, but when you start to feel disgusting in your own skin (and there’s something you can do about it, but you just don’t), there is something wrong. In my particular case, there was no one to blame but myself.
Continue reading “circle the drain… (pt. three)”
Over the last few months, I’ve noticed that friends and family have picked up some new hobbies or learned new skills while in quarantine. Activities have included solving puzzles, gardening, sewing, and refurbishing furniture.
I never thought I’d be one of those people. Cases in point: the two dusty guitars hanging on our walls and the shrink-wrapped ball of macrame cord sitting at the bottom of my drawer.
That said, I have been known to go a bit overboard when I set my mind on something. And sometimes, I get a bit obsessive or completely consumed. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that I’ve got addictive tendencies.
Continue reading “circle the drain… (pt. one)”
Alright, alright, alright… here I am again. Over the last several months, I’ve started drafting blog posts, but ultimately abandoned them. I let ego get in the way of putting out content. Instead of running to the computer as soon as an idea struck, or heck, even putting pen to paper and just getting something down, I would begin writing it in my head.
My mind would start asking those dumb questions, like “how much could you really write on that subject?” “who would care?” and “what’s the point?” After reading (okay, fine, listening to) Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, I realized it was just my ego screwing things up for me. I was too hung up on what other people would think or what other people would get out of it.
Continue reading “so many signs…”