When you march to the beat of a different drum and others (your parents, your family the church or other religious organization, etc. etc.) just don't understand.
I am an INFJ, former INFP. You?
The things we can't seem to start or stop.
I am trying not to explode. I am about to explode. I just exploded. Again. Damn it.
Merle Shain wrote a book many years ago called “Courage, My Love” and in a section she titled “Longing” she says…
“I often think we get so mad at the person we tried to love and who tried to love us because the failure of those attempts reminds us of our having fumbled before. We have been waiting for that healing love so long and now this person here has teased us into remembering our neediness and then blown it and we are madder than hell. In any case, they get charged with the national debt even if we just met them last week.
We expect a lot from love – often more than we expect from ourselves. Which is, when you think of it, kind of a bum rap to lay on love.
And as long as we think we have to have somebody to adore us - to be somebody, we are stuck in a holding pattern, whining and waiting, blaming those who have failed us, not knowing we are the one who is keeping ourselves from becoming the person we are meant to be."
When My Sorrow Was Born
When my sorrow was born I nursed it with care, and watched over it with loving tenderness.
And my Sorrow grew like all living things, strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.
And we loved one another, my Sorrow and I, and we loved the world about us; for Sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with Sorrow.
And when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent tongue, and mine was eloquent with Sorrow.
And when we sang together, my Sorrow and I, our neighbors sat at their windows and listenend; for our songs were deep as the sea and our melodies were full of strange memories.
And when we walked together, my Sorrow and I, people gazed at us with gentle eyes and whispered in words of exceeding sweetness. And there were those who looked with envy upon us, for Sorrow was a noble thing and I was proud with Sorrow.
But my Sorrow died, like all living things, and alone I am left to muse and ponder.
And now when I speak my words fall heavily upon my ears.
And when I sing my songs my neighbours come not to listen.
And when I walk the streets no one looks at me.
Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in pity, “See, there lies the man whose Sorrow is dead.” ~Kahlil Gibran
But can you really help me, Sherry? - Yes,
if you are going through something like this...
"I like the pictures. If it really looked like you, you would be sitting in your chair wearing some warm comfy thing while looking over a cup of tea trying to figure out wtf is going on. I'm not sure how many people would get a pic like that, but someone with their sleeves rolled up and ready to do the work would get more of my attention than the more formal or 'professional' sittings. I think you are different than the rest, and honestly, if it were me lol, I would have gone for a shot that says that."
Rejection, Abandonment ~ Guilt, Shame, Remorse ~ Perfectionism
I am one of you...
Chronic Illness, Terminal Illness/End of Life Counseling, and Centralized Chronic Pain Syndromes.
"Why am I here?" "Where do I belong?" "What is my purpose"
Existential Questions. Spiritual journeys, Wondering, Wandering and Angst.
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