Honeybee

Metamorphosis
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2020-03-20 01:33:32 (UTC)

An INFJ in Love

I started reading the book C got me for Christmas. If he wasn't talking to me, then I figured maybe by reading the book, utilizing his gift, then that would partly obliterate my disagreement with him. In all honesty, it started by making things a little worse. I thought it was one of those books that make you acknowledge all your flaws only to end it saying you're still great because you're you. That's not really the pick-me-up I need at the moment, to be honest. I can certainly acknowledge my flaws but to run on steam that is "I'm unique" isn't really cutting it.

Then the tone changed, as the author/illustrator started getting personal and revealing her own struggle with anxiety and depression. I never gave a thought to being anxious or depressed as a medical condition. I know I get sad and lonely at times and being an INFJ makes me struggle with certain issues naturally. But they were seen more as challenges rather than symptoms of an illness. As I read on though, it became more about a process of sympathy. I could honestly relate with many of those experiences and reading her felt like a relief; as if she were reaching her hand to pat me on the shoulder and tell me it'll be okay.

There was motivation at one point. I can't trace it back to which chapter, but I went onto the uni friends group and texted, "I miss having real conversations with you all." It started with sympathy from S, then IL suggesting Skype. After a brief row about which tool to use and why (techno nerds), we settled to Skype Saturday evening. And I thought to myself, I made that happen. I just initiated a social activity. It's an achievement that made me a little proud, to be honest, mainly because I missed my friends and I did something about it.

I got through over halfway through the book and decided to close it for now, for the chance to absorb the good experience I just had. And because I realized it was close to 1 a.m. already. A few speculations came to mind though, whether the pressure I put on C may be a result of an unsolved emotional problem, whether my difficulty making friends still remains not because of my high standards but because I expect totality. My soul feels rigid. It all comes down to one simple clichéd fact; if I don't feel whole myself, I have no right expecting it from someone else. It made me wonder if I should break up with C for the sake of sparing him my growing emotional instability. It made me wonder if I should see a therapist after all. It made me wonder if I should start over.

Then again, I may wake up and under the sunlight decide it's actually not that bad. I should make myself top priority, go back to working out, maintain daily activity, meditate, explore my own psyche and indulge in what makes me feel good, and find my own sexual gratification on my own. But I've said these things before, haven't I? There's a cycle that has to break. I'm hoping it's just me overthinking and not doing, and not a more major problem.

Maybe time is an ally now. Who knows?


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