Loneliness and Insecurity

There’s a weird feeling I have at the moment, and it’s called loneliness and insecurity.  It means I want to talk and make a friend, but I’m insecure/anxious about how the conversation would go and whether it would be a positive overall interaction or a negative one.

As an HSP, apparently I go out of my way to avoid uncomfortable situations, so you can guess where that leaves me.  I guess I’ve kind of forgotten about my HSP-ness, except today, I noticed one of my friends on Facebook, an acquaintance, rather, had changed her last name back to her maiden name.  That’s never a good sign when you know they are (were?) married.  It’s really disheartening and while one shouldn’t jump to conclusions, I thought back to the research I read a long time ago about how neuroticism is the number one personality predictor of an unhappy marriage, in so many words.  I think HSP-ness and neuroticism pretty much overlap quite a bit.  So I made my hubby take the HSP test.  He’s not an HSP (no surprise at all there).  I think when I make my hubby take tests like these and listen to his responses, I realize how much I assume everyone around me must think the way I think, or feel the way I feel in response to things, and how strange it is to find out that they don’t.  You mean loud noises don’t really bother you?!  You mean you’re not bothered by coarse fabrics?  You don’t get nervous when someone is watching you do something?  You must be an alien!  Except no, the alien, folks, is me.  Just kidding.  We are 20% of the population, so not so alien after all.  But the point is, something about us, oh, maybe the way we are so very moody, makes it difficult for people to live very very closely to us, which marriage is.  Anyhow, as you can probably guess, this doesn’t make me feel too good about myself.  So it’s been awhile since I’ve thought about these personality things.  Thankfully, it is the Lord who brought me to my husband, and my husband to me.  His ways really are higher than our ways.  My thoughts are kind of all over the place on this.  I guess I just feel bummed when things aren’t working out for people and of course I can’t have any way of knowing what is actually going on, so how can I say anything?  It’s all very confusing.  Years and years have passed and so much change, too.

I think that’s what ties all of these thoughts together.  Change.  I don’t like change.  Since I’m back home, I’ve realized a lot of folks are probably still around, but I don’t know if they would want to talk to me.  There’s always the past, the connections to this person or that person, and then there’s this huge gap of time, and by now, I have no clue what to think or what they think, or if they even think.  I want to connect with people, but I have no words.  Or maybe they’re busy.  Or maybe I’m busy.  I would be okay, except see the reason I’m writing this is that I spent too long scrolling through a NewsFeed, reading just that.  News.  News about people, when all I really want is to actually sit down and talk to them, except I also don’t want that as well.  Because what if they don’t open?  That feeling when you can’t seem to get through feels even lonelier, somehow.  Why do things change?  So we left our old community behind, but I am forming a new community here, and it will take time.

I feel there is a new stage of life ahead of me.  The leaves are growing a radiant reddish hue and life is morphing as well.  It seems as I grow older, family becomes more and more primary, and more of them actually need your care, or is it that I actually notice and care about someone other than myself.  I will be 29 in a few weeks.  Throughout most of my life, I haven’t felt my age.  I’ve always felt younger than I actually was.  Today though, my age feels very real to me.



Yesterday I was planning to eat ramen for dinner, but then the hubby said he was feeling like something light and healthy, which usually means he’s exhausted and needs an immune system boost!

So I made this, instant pot congee.  I think it turned out fairly good and I would make again.  I also made him a smoothie and put all kinds of stuff in it that the Internet says is good for you– spinach, lime, berries, ginger, cinnamon, turmeric, chia seeds, Greek yogurt.  Next time, more ginger, cause he couldn’t taste it this time.

Home Again

Here I am again.  I’ve found a new morning routine for myself, ever since I discovered the Sleep Cycle app.  It’s a really cool app which tracks your sleeping cycles using your phone’s microphone, and wakes you up at the point where you’re the most awake, so it’s easier for you to wake up.  For a person that has struggled with waking up since exiting the womb, well I had to try it.  It has worked really well, and it’s also very interesting to see your actual cycle from being awake, to sleeping, to deep sleeping.

A corner of the dining room lets in the morning sunlight, so that’s where I choose to sit in the anxiety of the morning.  I feel like a cat sometimes, curling up in a spot where I can feel the warmth of the sun after escaping from sleep.  I miss feeling calm.  Little bursts of electricity run around inside my body.  They gather in my core.  I just want to hide from the day, from the eyes, from the confusion, from the judgment, from the reverberations of billions of beings on this earth with convictions and experiences and opinions and knowledge and voices and actions.  I can’t tell if the ache inside is because I’m hungry or because of my mind.  I think a little of both.

Cooking on the Fly

Running out of time, we made this.  Out of the ingredients that we had around, because our Blue Apron delivery failed, yet again.  Somehow being in the middle of nowhere is difficult for them.  So I searched for something I could do with chicken drumsticks and a bunch of basil I had pulled off our basil plant to save them from thrips earlier this week.  I didn’t have enough tomatoes, so we substituted with some tomato paste and water.  Overall, the taste was good and maybe I would make it again, but with the proper ingredients.

The Past

Yesterday I was talking to Hubby about “the past”.  I was considering, some people say that the past is the past.  As in, it doesn’t matter, and we should focus on the present.  To which I raise my eyebrow and think, yes, that’s a good point.  But doesn’t the past affect who we are today?  But to what extent does it matter or doesn’t it matter?  Some people are those who “need to know”, and others are better at passing over those things and having new beginnings.

I’ve always been the kind of person who has trouble letting things go.  The imprints on my heart run quite deeply.  I’ve found out from conversations, that many people can’t remember too many things from their childhood.  But I remember random moments.  I remember preschool, the fake cake with the pandas on it, and being excited when it would finally be my turn to sit in front of the cute cake.  I remember getting in trouble for being awake during naptime during daycare.  I remember my first week of kindergarten.  I sat on the carpeted floor and found a book about Spot the dog, and I read it.  And I found out that the other kids were not reading the books, they were only looking at the pictures.  And that was one of my first realizations that I was ahead of other kids academically.  I remember sitting in a chair for my first piano recital, not quite knowing what was going on.  I remember getting shots with a happy face, but it seems my memory must have tricked me because how can you have shots in the shape of a happy face?  I remember my first friend who asked me if I wanted to be her best friend, but it would have to be second best friend, because someone else was her first best friend.  I remember that I didn’t know why she wanted to be my friend, but she did.  I remember watching my best friend run around the playground getting chased by boys, and wondering what was so fun about that.  I remember receiving an inflatable hammer bigger than me as a gift in Hong Kong, because somebody else was afraid of it, and feeling quite good about myself.

Being back in the city where I grew up conjures up a lot of memories from “the past”.  Watching my cousin go through being a teenager again reminds me of my wide-eyed days, when a group of us genuinely believed we could change the world.  When there were no bills, no homes, no jobs to think about.

The past is a strange place.  What is it about some events that place them so firmly in my memory?


Against my better judgment, I just had some delicious chocolate chai tea, brewed to “very strong”.  So I’m a little antsy right now.  I’ve been writing and deleting paragraphs for the last ten minutes or so.  Outwardly, it looks like I’m calmly sitting in our dining room area, but inside, I feel like the uncomfortable rumble of our washing machine when it’s set to do its “Extra Rinse”.

On Sensory-Overload and OCD

Does anyone else find Facebook incredibly overwhelming?  Like a compulsive need to “get through” the Newsfeed once it is opened?  No, just me?  Staying away from Facebook feels good, more relaxing.  But then I don’t want to miss the latest engagement of my acquaintances, so I check.  Yes, there have been at least two engagements in the last two weeks.  So I’m right on the money (is that how they say it?).  But then my Feed is FILLED with Piano Teacher group stuff and InstantPot stuff and I can hardly wade through it all!  But I feel like I have to, lest I miss something.  #alittleOCD.  And I think I’m addicted to information, or something like that.

Last night I had a lot of thoughts I wanted to blog about.  Does that happen to anyone else too?  It’s like I have all these perfect dialogues going on in my head of conversations that I should be having, and also sentence after sentence of writing, and they aren’t just shapeless thoughts, they’re full-fledged sentences, and I can’t.  Write.  Them.  Down.  Because I am in bed.  And I think if I get up, it will mess up my circadian rhythm or something, which is already in shambles.  I’m too dramatic, but it’s what comes out, so….

You know when you thought you had things to say, but then you can’t remember what they were?  That’s how I feel right now.  Like all these things that were keeping me up at night, taking up precious sleep time, have disappeared!  It’s funny how things seem 10x more important when they come up in your thoughts at 10pm and no one is awake to hear them.  Then in the morning, it’s like nothing is more important than keeping my eyes closed on this fluffy pillow for as long as possible.  Why?!?!?