Idiosyncrasies

and things that once caused shame becoming a source of beauty...

Photo by Suganth on Unsplash

Today at the grocery store I was overcome by anxiety. This isn’t some anomaly, because since I was fifteen years old, and a grocery store clerk, I’ve had anxiety in grocery stores. I don’t know if it’s the bright lights, the people walking up and down the aisles, or the fact that I am prone to overstimulation as a result of my sensitive nature. I am not a grocery store clerk anymore, but this effect has stayed with me.

For me, crowds of people, often mean an abundance of spiritual movement and noise; energetic noise, emotional noise, and unconscious noise. It seems the more unconscious it is in others, the more it screams for my attention, and maybe because I am vigilant of its presence, it more readily finds me listening.

What I mean is, I am easily overwhelmed by groups of people. When in their presence, I feel like someone standing next to a blender, without the lid on, the energy, like food, flies everywhere, and it gets onto me, sometimes without my permission.

Anyway, while in the grocery store, I saw someone I knew. I hate to admit it, but I ducked and ran to another aisle. One of my worst nightmares is being trapped in a conversation I don’t want to have. Maybe because I don’t like feeling trapped. Maybe because small talk feels so fake it makes my skin crawl. I don’t do well in surface level conversations, especially because most of what’s said feels trivial, like a waste of time, like an active lie that I am forced to engage in, or chatter that’s meant to cover up discomfort, that only makes mine worse.

It’s been said that I am too serious, and it’s probably true. I know I should lighten up, but my life has been heavy, and you can’t lighten up heavy, until it’s fully ready to be surrendered. I am very serious about my time, attention, and intention. And age is making it more so.

I don’t do well avoiding discomfort or the elephant in the room. I usually blurt it out, like someone without a filter. I am ruthlessly devoted to truth, which at times, means that I speak truth at the expense of making others uncomfortable. This is something I am trying to dial back, but don’t always find easy. I’ve always felt like truth was a gift that human beings wanted. I am just now learning that some don’t consider it a gift, but a mirror too painful to look at.

Ironically, the words I am writing now bubbled up while I was in the grocery store trying to escape my uncomfortable feelings. Luckily, my husband was able to check out for me so I could step away, take a breath, and continue pondering whether or not I wanted to share about my uncomfortable feelings, or pretend they didn’t exist.

I said I was ruthlessly honest, which means I have to be honest with myself too, and it is in fact the only path to growth I’ve ever found effective.

With age, I am questioning everything, and with age I am exploring some of my limitations, weaknesses, and those things I find odd or abnormal about me; the things I haven’t been able to change or heal. Do I want to hide them or pretend they don’t exist? This is a question I’ve been sitting with for a while now. And, the truth is, these idiosyncrasies not only make me me, but are something, that if I look at from a different perspective, I can begin to find beautiful and unique.

This is a huge step up from childhood, whereby grey area thinking, or challenging the status quo would have felt too dangerous, because all I wanted was to fit in. I tried hard to be normal, and hard to not be from the family that was so obviously abnormal, but it never stuck, because I was from the family that was abnormal, whatever that means.

So I’ve decided to make a list about some of the things I find strange, embarrassing or odd about me, and share them out loud. I am finding that sharing takes the sting out.

Now, just for the record, I’ve been in therapy for many years, and inner healing is a way of life for me. But, as with some conditions, some things get better, and others don’t until they do, so I’ve made the choice to question the way I look at these things, and the way I relate to symptoms, characteristics, and problems, even to the point of questioning whether or not they are problems or sickness at all.

I’ll start with the fact that I am therapist who navigates Complex PTSD. I also treat Complex PTSD; it’s my specialty. Some people find this ironic. I find that it makes perfect sense.

Every night before I go to bed I check the stove at least three times. My new home has dots on the knobs, which makes things easier, cause I can just look and make sure they are all in the same direction, indicating the stove is off. I check all the locks every night, which most people probably do.

When I get anxious at the grocery store I ask my husband to pay, in case I need to step outside and get some fresh air. Sometimes when I am in a restaurant, if I feel anxious, I ask my husband to order for me. Sometimes in a restaurant or public place I get a divine nudge to talk to a complete stranger and encourage them about a specific situation in their lives. When I was younger, I would have ignored this nudge and chickened out. With age, and acceptance, I am growing bolder, and am more willing to look a little crazy to do what is right.

If I am in a group of people, I don’t like to read aloud, or be called on to speak. I will however raise my hand if I know the answer, and proceed to share my expertise.

Sometimes I have body flashbacks that make my face turn red for no apparent reason, usually because something in the environment has caused my amygdala to sense danger, even though in reality there is no threat.

I prefer to sit in the back when I go places and observe my surroundings.

Whenever I am on a zoom call, and I am asked to share my writing, I prefer to turn off the camera, so my voice is heard without distraction.

Before I facilitate an inner healing session, I usually always experience some kind of spiritual attack or distraction right before. More on that later.

When I am in the presence of people I can see their emotions, like diagrams shooting up through their body. Then I feel them in my body. I get pictures, words, and images to ask them about. Sometimes I see colors around people, but usually what I see around them is light or dark, not colored. This tells me all the information I need to know.

I’ve had a very active dream life since I was a child, and along with terrifying dreams and sleep paralysis, I lucid dream, have false awakenings, and have dreams that give me information and clues about things I am working on, or helping others work on. I now recognize this as dream work. The more I surrender to my dream life, instead of trying to control it, the more spiritual dreams I have. I am learning that a soul dream is from the psyche, while a spiritual dream is permitted by the divine with reason.

When I get anxious sometimes reality distorts itself and bends, which makes it look different for me than it does for others. I am no longer questioning this as much, but leaning into it more, seeing the world and reality through a different lens and approach.

I used to believe that Psychology could cure anything. I don’t believe that anymore. I believe that a soul that is sick must be treated with a spiritual remedy. Psychology does help but it doesn’t cure the root cause.

I sometimes have dreams of people who have died and have conversations with them. I’ve never tried to make contact with them, outside of thinking about and grieving them. So, this happens spontaneously and outside of my control. Most of the conversations are insightful and deeply meaningful, others are just soul dreams.

When I get super anxious I sometimes have to check my face several times in the mirror to make sure it isn’t swelling. My face has never swelled, but fear is an interesting emotion, and it distorts things. Again, more on that later.

The more I refrain from pathologizing what goes on in my psyche, the better able I am to decipher what is coming through the part of my brain that makes things up, versus perceiving that which is unseen, and that which I missed before because I doubted myself and didn’t have the courage to look.

I want to give a special thanks to the Women in Wolves program I participated in a few years back. It helped me gain confidence and boldness to be open about my quirks, no longer allowing them to be sources of shame and embarrassment. What I learned is that wolves don’t make stories up about who they are; they don’t apologize for or explain the things about them they’ve tried to change, but haven’t been able to heal yet. They move forward in trust, and beauty, accepting the broken, and no longer allowing it to break them. Did I mention I love wolves?