My imagination doesn’t include others.
I realized this last night, laying on the floor of my kitchen, looking upward at the gentle swing of the ceiling light. There was little to room on the left and right of me, as my apartment is condensed and small. Piano music, both eerie and beautiful, was vibrating against my chest. My iPhone, Spotify alert, trembled with the chords. My heart beat faster, louder beneath it’s screen.
If I close my eyes, I can see a world of introspection. Of me. Of the feelings I have and had and will have. Of the trips that I took or will take. The way people impact me or affect my sense of self.
Can I break away from that?
Do I need to break away?
Can I ask a question that doesn’t have “I” in it?
An ex boyfriend whom I loved deeply once told me in the darkened midst of my young twenties, “You are incapable of using the word “you” instead of “me” or “I.”
That punctured my heart.
I’ve sat in that for almost a decade now, aching with the knowledge that my introspection is both beautiful and harmful.
The same person told me, around the same time, that I was so driven by my emotions and that I could not stand firmly on my two feet without toppling over with my heart.
But, it was the truth.
He was the only one who could see it up close and had the courage and love to tell me what he was noticing in me.
He is a big reason why I am where I am today. Eager to hear the stories and struggles and lives of others unfold through health coaching. A little more able to sit with the discomfort that others are experiencing or the pain or the joys and not feel my own attachment to them. Able to stand on my own two feet without toppling over with my heavy heart.
So even though I still am introspective and I still imagine the world within the understanding of who I am, I am always learning how to broaden my awareness. To think more expansively, more globally, more inclusively.
To bring others into my imagination with delight and ease.
And you know that takes time, patience, and self compassion.
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