Finding My Euphoria – Something Personal

As the saying goes, if you don’t know, then you just don’t know, which is fine by the way.
No one says this out loud but it’s okay to see the world differently. It’s okay to be different and the truth is different does not mean better or worse. No, different just means different.
So?

I suppose I have always seen the world from a different perspective. Then again, there is no proof that two people see things the exact same way.
I often bring up the fact that I will never know what the color blue looks like to you. For all we know, we can see the same thing but blue can be something else to you.
All we know is what we are taught.

I don’t know what the rainbow looks like through your eyes and although we are taught that this is blue, or this is a rainbow, this is life, these are people, those are friends and these are enemies. At the same time, I am me and you are you and neither of us will ever see things the exact same way. And that’s fine. No, really. This is okay.

It’s okay that we see things differently. It’s okay that we feel differently or that we have different interpretations or have our own experiences when it comes to the basic sense of sight and sound, touch and smell.
I don’t know what roses smell like to you.
I don’t know what the ocean smells like to you or what you smell when you walk in the lobby of some grand hotel.

I used to be offended when someone would tell me, “You don’t get it.”
But, maybe I don’t.
I’d be hurt when someone I loved or cared for would tell me, “You don’t understand.”
At the same time, it never occurred to me that maybe I don’t understand.
Or maybe we see things differently, which is not meant to be insulting but somehow, we take this to heart.
I offer this because people with rejection sensitive disorders or people who worry or those who abandonment can take this to a different level.
I know that I do.

I know because I have taken these things personally. I have been insulted because someone told me that I don’t get it or that I don’t understand.
I took this to heart, as if this meant there was something wrong with me, or that I lacked the emotional intelligence to understand.
Or in the fear of loss or in fear that I would lose someone I love, and be abandoned, or seen, or found out; I worried that this means that we were becoming distant and that our split would be eventual and inevitable.
I swear . . .
Nothing drains us like insecurity.

I have lived with the belief that love should be easy. I believed that love and true love should be fluid-like, or effortless. However, nothing valuable stays valuable without effort. Even unconditional love comes with conditions because nothing can survive in a vacuum.

So, while I may not understand or not explain myself clearly, rather than put a divide between us or instead of letting the distance settle in and spread us apart, like a sore that becomes sceptic and swells, let me end this here.
Let me readjust myself and let me put my brave face on, because in fairness to myself and to you, misconceptions are bred from miscommunication or the lack thereof.
It would be inaccurate and unfair of me to blame anyone else for this.
It would be unfair and inaccurate to blame others for my insecurities as well.
These things are mine. If they are mine or if my insecurities have led me astray, then it is up to me to straighten up and address the path ahead of me.

I am someone who is longing and searching and admittedly, I am afraid, and I am often misled by old or outdated beliefs.
I understand the fears of loss. I understand the old worries that if or when someone sees me, then maybe they won’t like what they see.
And then what?

Do you want to laugh?
I struggle to get ready.
I’m serious. I hate having to get dressed for an event and, yes, I overthink this more than anyone.
Or, so I assume.

This is what it’s like:
I pick out an outfit and then I put it on.
Then I see myself in the mirror.
Then I realize that I don’t like the outfit or the way I look.
So, I change.
And then I see myself again.
Then I change again.
Then I see myself and then I change once more.
Perhaps this can go on at least half to a dozen times.
Then I go back to the original outfit that I began with.
And then I leave my house with an undercoat of discomfort and contempt.

But why?
Or more to the point, why tell you?
Why tell anybody this?
I suppose my reasons are simple.

I have allowed things like this to both waste me away and dominate my time and energy. I have allowed myself to live with doubts that mount and gain momentum. I run this program in my head until I find myself running in fear. I can picture this would be like from a downhill boulder of my worst possible imagination, and as I run, I am hoping with all that I have that I don’t get crushed or run over.
This is what I mean when I say wasting and dominating my time and energy.
Then again, this is what insecurity does for people.
Or wait . . .
this is what insecurity does for me.

I have expressed this in different ways. I have opened up about the lonely thoughts that I have or the thinking that can painfully crucify me. Or worse, I have opened up about the ideas which are untrue and teach me that something about me is ugly and unwantable.
And I might be ugly or unwantable to some people.
But not to you, at least I hope not.

Navigation of thought is important.
The ideas and thoughts we have will directly impact our chemistry; whereas, we can think ourselves into despair, or we can think our way into becoming sick, or, if we choose, we can think ourselves into finding a better way or feeling better.
Hence, my need to find my euphoria.

We are the captain of this ship. I know this and yet, I know that I have steered myself off course. I have lost my way, or I have weathered storms that I thought would never end.

I swore upon the worst possible scenarios.
I have wagered that the worse would become true. I have planned for the worst and acted accordingly to events that had not happened, nor did they need to happen; however, with my help and biases, I can see how I focused on my worst nightmares and how I steered my way into my worst fears, and allowed them to become true.

I mentioned the outfit changes for a laugh.
But also, I mention this to offer a detail of how my energy can fly in an unfair direction.
This is not unfair to others as much as this is unfair to me. However, thoughts can become septic. This can cause a chain reaction that infects our thinking and primes us for the expectation of the worst, and the worst can be summed by the word rejection, which can happen self-willed, if we are not careful.

I am trying to find my Euphoria.
Hence the title of this journal and my reason for what this is all about.

I want to feel better. I want to feel high without the consequences of an unworthy method. I say this because no drug can give me the high that I want.
I want to find my way. I want to feel that sense of accomplishment. I want to feel the desired level of peace without the fear that my peace will be disturbed or intermittent, at best.

I want to walk the world or be alone and not feel lonely or worry that wherever I go, I’ll be alone when I get back. I want to know that wherever I go –
You’ll be there.
No matter what.

I remember sitting in a classroom and learning about the five basic emotions.
I was taught about the acronym F.L.A.P.P.
This stands for: Fear, Loneliness, Anger, Pain, and Pleasure.
These are the five basic emotions. Only one is really desirable.
And that’s pleasure.

I want pleasure too.
I don’t want to be afraid that pleasure will be taken away from me. I don’t want to be angry, or be alone, and I don’t want to be in pain because I live in the absence of pleasure.
More to the point, I have lived in the absence of love for so long that my lonesomeness has consumed me.

I remember something from a while back.
I was helping a family through a personal struggle and their youngest boy invited me to see his room.
I think about this. I think about how this was all that young boy knew.
This was all he had.
Or this was his “everything.”
I think about the bullying and the rejection and the worries this young boy lived with, which is something that I can relate to.

His Mom explained to me that the young boy never invited anyone to see his bedroom before.
Then again, he never had very many friends before.
But he wanted one.
I can relate to this.
I want to have friends too.

I took this invitation as a compliment.
This was the little boy’s world. This is where he kept his happiness and secrets. This is where he was safe and where he hid from the bad stuff.
This is where he played his favorite games.
And then came the truest and purest requests of all.
“Will you to play with me?”
(I thought about this when I was in my car right afterwards, and I started to cry a little, if I’m being honest.)

I suppose, in a way, I am like that little boy and this, this here, is my way of inviting you into my room.
I want you to see where I am safe, where I store my dreams, and to offer you a turn at one of my favorite games. That is, of course, if you wouldn’t mind playing for a while.
So, um . . .
Will you play with me?
You can even go first, if you want.

You can even win, if you want.
Besides having you here –
means that I’ve already won.