Space, Part Two

Emotional space is something that I am always establishing for myself. I need protection, not just for my sake, but for the well being of the people around me. I never really understood the essential need for it, but I do know that I need my space in order to function. And what I hate about it the most is that the need for space comes at such inconsistent and inconvenient times, to where it becomes detrimental to not only me, but the people who are around me. I think my body just rejects the overall feeling that uncomfortable has, like how someone tries to flee when they are embarrassed.

I hate it when people ask me if I am okay. The constant question posed to me, inquiring about my crumbling mental fortitude. I am not okay. You don’t need to know that I am okay. I don’t need to tell you how I feel. You don’t have the right to have that power over my mood, as much as you already have it. I don’t believe that I am okay, but I will try, no matter how many times that I tell myself that I am not.

It’s not a “trigger,” per se, but it does have the same effect on me. Like I said earlier, I don’t want people to have advantage over me when they ask how I am doing when I am not doing well. I have had bad experiences where I told someone how I felt and instead of consoling me, they mocked my plight and made that feeling worse. Now, out of emotional torture, I shotgun anyone who tries to ask me that. I just don’t need anyone to make me feel small again. I just want acceptance and reassurance sometimes, not to tell me what you think. I may not say it at first, but that is what I need.

I hate it when people offer me help. I understand that one of the reasons why we hold people close to us is for them to support us during troubling times. But ask anyone that knows me, even a bit, and they would say that I am the most stubborn person that they will ever meet. I don’t need people’s help, at least that is what the pride in me says. The pride in me would continue to kill themselves because someone would suggest and idea that they didn’t have. I don’t exactly remember when I became so prideful, but that’s just a dynamic of my reoccurring rainbow spectrum of resentful personality recourse, endlessly looping around and around each other, the serpent eating its own tail, the eternal infinity sign.

I need space sometimes, and people don’t believe me when I say that space actually heals. And to a certain extent, they are right. Space does not heal a person, especially when a problem comes from a person-to-person exchange, which is a good 70% of my issues. I know that distancing oneself and allowing the in-exchange of words is bad, as people take space as them running away from the problem, giving people more things to get angry about. I understand that, I hardheartedly understand that.

But, my reason for this is that I need to think things out, and it is hard for me to think with others around. I need my literal space in order for me to formulate my ideas, which is why when I am listening to music, I flip through songs a lot, as some songs invite certain ideas to appear. I hate it when people insist on not letting me have my space and wanting to talk things out at that moment. It really restricts the power, focus, and quality of my words.

And as a person, I am not a fan of saying stuff that I do not mean. I try to practice saying things that I truly feel, whether it being at that moment or as a general feeling. Reflection and reorganization of such words is always in play, as no one thing is finite, it is always being reconstructed as new and more ideas are introduced to it.

Sometimes I need my emotional space, or else I will say the first thing I am feeling. And trust me, you don’t want to hear it.

– J.E.

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