I usually prefer to be by myself when I feel upset. On the rare occasions in which I’d like some company, I prefer that company keep the focus on me and my pain, just as I strive to keep the focus on those close to me and their pain when they turn to me for support during their painful times. I don’t want to feel lonely, and I feel most lonely when others use my pain as an opportunity to talk about themselves. (regardless of their intentions in doing so). In fact, I feel lonelier when surrounded by folks doing that than I ever do when I’m focusing on healing with nobody else around.
Ultimately, I want those close to me to simply be present with me and where I’m at instead of directing me or rejecting me if I feel anything other than happy, peaceful, joyful, etc. That is the central lesson in Cori Doerrfeld’s beautiful book The Rabbit Listened. When someone else listens to and is present with me, or when I do it for myself, the feeling of relief is incredible. It makes the pain smaller, easier to understand, and possible to work through without feeling so overwhelmed. Additionally, if enough humans did this, I believe it would solve most of the problems regarding gossip, interruptions, misunderstandings, fighting, strained relationships, etc. More peace and more solid relationships. Sounds wonderful.
Although I had known of it for quite some time, I finally took some time last week to watch the sweet video Steve Burns (the original host of Blue’s Clues) uploaded earlier this year. In case the link won’t work, Steve asked viewers how they were doing and then gave almost a minute of silence for them to answer while appearing to genuinely listen. Instead of staying quiet, I started talking about recent experiences. I cried a bit as I got more personal about the pain I’m still dealing with, especially around loneliness and fear of my future. I felt better after that. It’d be so nice to have even one human regularly listen to and be present with me like this. Only a handful of folks I know have ever done this for me, and none of them live nearby or are easy to reach. Although I’ve gotten pretty good at doing this for myself, it’s still hard at times. That’s when the struggles are strongest.
My dog Sawyer was wonderful at this. I felt safe enough around him to show all kinds of emotion and tell him about anything that was bothering me. No matter how good or bad I felt, he wanted to be by my side and show me love. When I felt bad, he often would get more still and quiet than usual while lying down near, against, or on top of me similarly to this. He always made me feel comfortable, loved, and valued, and I’m so thankful to have received that from him for so many years.
I want my friends to keep being my friends even when I feel mad, sad, afraid, or bad. Despite all the healing and self-improvement I’ve experienced for nearly 7 years now, I still fear that those close to me will leave me if I say I feel angry, frustrated, or otherwise upset at something they’ve done. As such, when I feel bad, I rarely say much about how I’m feeling, set strong boundaries, or ask for a change in an interaction. All of that becomes even harder to do when I feel deeply upset; that’s when I fear even more than usual how someone might react to my requests and revelations, so I say as little as possible and usually end up either going totally silent or getting dragged around by whoever is talking to me while they are seemingly totally oblivious to how I feel. A possible remedy for this is working on boundaries and expressions of feelings with close friends who have shown that they will stick with me even when I feel upset and don’t always know how to put it into words effectively. I’ve considered this before but have never done much of anything with it outside of a few instances during some life coaching back in 2021. I’d like to try more of it.
Until then, I’ll keep doing what I can on my own to release pain and feel more at peace. I’m thankful for having more opportunities than usual to do that this week. They have been crucial for overcoming a hugely painful experience on Sunday and preparing me for the two-year anniversary of Sawyer’s death on Friday. Even if it’s still painful, I hope it’s at least less painful than the day of his death and the one-year anniversary. If the progress I’ve made since April of 2022 is any indication, I’m sure it will be.