“Seems pretty dramatic doesn’t it but I’m feeling pretty fucking dramatic right now and this list isn’t exhaustive.
This list is exhausting.”
That’s how 2021 started.
I’m not sure many would disagree that the start of 2021 and 2022 are much the same.
The task to be consistent is some days, hard. Continuing to consistently own in 2021, I definitely tried! A brilliantly sad lesson I learned? That just because you want to own your behaviours and be consistent in your actions, does not mean other people are on board for that particular journey. I already knew this but apparently, the universe thought I needed to gain experience and learn it in a big way.
Owning and consistency require reflection and in some cases an apology. I learned that the act of accountability can be confronting for others who aren’t there yet, may never be, or don’t want to be. I learned that if someone cannot accept an apology for your behaviour, it could be because they don’t want to be held accountable for their own behaviours and actions down the line.
Growth can be hard for those around you if they aren’t on the same path. It can cause them to retreat or lash out because they aren’t ready or may never be ready. I got it wrong, I misjudged them for their words weren’t their truth.
“…work out my boundaries — what is acceptable and what is not in a bid not to betray myself for attention that may never be truly authentic or even come my way.”
And I very much betrayed myself this year. Falling into a situation that my therapist probably saw coming a mile off but, like Juan Carlo, she didn’t intervene, seeing something that I needed to go through. An incredibly hard, incredibly uncomfortable something that should have ended way before it did.
Deflection, projection, gaslighting, narcissism, detachment, codependency, dissociation. Just some of the words to fill in the blanks of that experience. It was only after a conversation with a friend that I realised that I was feeling embarrassment for finding myself in that situation which is madness!
Another learning moment for me — toxic relationships can be found in the familial, friendships, and colleagues not just the intimate ones. That’s what led me to…
“I’m nowhere near done. I still won’t cry in front of my therapist so…”
I finally did. I cried in front of my therapist, albeit, virtually. For me, a part of not allowing myself to do this was because there’s something in the comfort they cannot provide. When you cry in front of someone, I believe, for some, the deep-rooted response from either party is to comfort, to hold the person in a space of physical safety. ‘But you’re not a hugger anyway!’ I am if I trust you.
I don’t need to provide a rundown of 2021 because it’s as clear as the fucking photos from all the Gov meetups during lockdown. No one needs a reminder.
For me though, my community got a little bigger, my listening got a little better, and (whether Daisy likes it or not) I got to keep her brother. What I learned in 2021 though, is my curious frustration with time.
Which brings me to my word of 2022, time. To bring myself to accept that not everything can have a timeline. My therapist knows in the very first sentence that I will be asking for a timeline — ‘I can’t even decide on what to watch on TV so sit staring, what’s the timeline on that?’, ‘I’m angry and frustrated at myself for not being able to read a book at the moment, what’s the timeline?’, ‘I’m losing time on not being able to learn, when?’, ‘Sooooo give me a timeline on [insert any word you want here]’.
While I can tell everyone else to give themselves a break because whether you want to accept it or not, this pandemic is still in your periphery while you negotiate more immediate shit like jobs, family, health — I am not allowing myself that same time.
My name is Jojo and I am in flux fatigue and still a little frustrated by it.
Amy Cuddy wrote ‘…for many people, our brains and bodies are simply fatigued’ and constantly trying to recalibrate when exposed to every news story, every rule change, every panic buy, is just too much.
Our surge capacity is consistently almost, if not completely, running on empty these days. We cannot give a timeline to what we cannot control. And I am absolutely not here for it. I fucking hate it. If I cannot control and use a timeline, what the hell am I supposed to do?
Less about what I’m supposed to do and more ‘need’ to do. I need to embrace that some feelings, some emotions can’t be capped with an expiry. I need to just feel what I’m feeling, name it out loud, and check in every so often to make sure it’s still a thing to be taken seriously rather than a habit formed.
So, here’s to giving me time and having absolutely no fucking clue what 2022 will throw up next! (note, no self-care bath advice was offered during this blog. You do you.)
2022.
Stay weird • Get consistent • Go with savage grace
