Yelly Writes

In(ter)dependence

Building a life together doesn’t mean codependency. The goal is to be interdependent — to blend your lives together to form a unit, a team, but with two distinct, independent parts. You’re not expected to solve your other half’s problems for them, you’re supposed to be there to support them through the journey to the solutions. You’re not expected to TAKE CARE of the other person, you’re expected to CARE FOR the other person.

Learning to blend your lives together takes time, in the same way you learn geography, language, and maths. You both learn to map out your boundaries and territories while learning to share space. You learn each other’s languages and understand unspoken cues so that you’re able to communicate with each other in a way that is meaningful and understandable to the other person so that needs, wants, and feelings are shared. You learn to divide the effort it takes to make the relationship work, to know when to add your skills, your personality, to turn your life into one that is uniquely both yours, so you’re both parts of your shared narrative. At the same time, you learn to subtract yourself from the story so that your individuality isn’t compromised. Learning to bring two lives together takes work, takes time, a lot of patience, a lot of trust, self-awareness and the willingness to be open to communicate and receive communication. It can be scary because negotiating and discovering boundaries are delicate considerations. You just need to make sure you’re guided by love, kindness and constant awareness that this is a journey you’re taking with someone else.

It is worth it, though. Because you enter into a partnership. You gain someone; you don’t lose yourself.

Yelly Writes

The blurred lines of grief

A few weeks after my return from my mother’s memorial service, I met up with a few friends. I thought it would be a good experience to be around people. But one person kept asking me what happened on my trip, how I was feeling, if I was okay now, and if I could move on now. Up until that point, I thought I would be okay being around people. I wasn’t. I wanted to scream at this person, and I wanted to run away and cry.

I didn’t, of course. I am thankful I bit my tongue and prayed for my tongue to stick to the roof of my mouth so I wouldn’t say anything I couldn’t take back. I knew this person did not have the capacity to understand the depth and heft of my grief, because they hadn’t experienced the death of a parent, and really, because we all deal with situations differently. They were approaching me and my experience in the way they would if they were in the same situation. I behaved differently around this person after that. I didn’t feel like we were occupying the same spaces anymore. I know I may have judged too harshly after that experience, but I had to step away. I was too hurt. I don’t think they realised that they had wounded me so deeply. At the time, I didn’t have the capacity to explain what I was going through (that’s on me completely), but I knew that if I had opened my mouth, I would be caustic and say things I couldn’t take back.

Grieving and healing are both processes that involve ebbs and flows, with twists and turns. I think boundaries are the same. They shift and stretch depending on a person’s growth and capacity

Everything is a work in progress.

Yelly Writes

The art of not chasing

Sometimes you have to decide to just stop. Stop being available. Stop being considerate. Stop initiating. Stop chasing. Remember not everyone is for you and you are not for everyone. If they want to leave, let them.

Yelly Writes

The Energy Paradox: Why Change is Essential for Growth

@yellywelly

Change happens when the desire to grow becomes greater than the desire to stay comfortable. — Tony Robbins

What is comfortable is predictable and familiar. It is human nature to seek the familiar because it is safe and helps conserve energy. As humans, we are hardwired to take the path of least resistance because it is assured survival. Our brains, roughly take up just 2% of our body weight but consume about 20% of our energy. Our brains naturally seek what is comfortable to save energy consumption because too much expending of energy will lead to burnout.

The paradox is for us to gain more energy, we have to expend energy. We have to push and stretch our boundaries. Staying in our safety zones, will, in the long run, keep us stuck in less-than-ideal circumstances. It can keep us comfortable in situations that are no longer good for us. Because it is familiar, sometimes we allow ourselves to stay in painful places because we know how to manoeuvre in these spaces. We avoid the unfamiliar peace and stay in the familiar hell because we already know how to survive it. I know this because I’m living it.

The trick is, apparently, small, consistent changes. I say apparently because I am a work in progress. I am anxious and uncertain, but I know something has to change. I know that in order to recover, in order to heal, I need for there to be real change. I know I am misreading the anxiety I’m feeling. I’m anxious because there has been so much upheaval in my life. But I need to reframe this in my mind. The upheaval is good. It is necessary for me to change. I just need to break this down into small, manageable chunks.

I’m sitting in the discomfort. I know it signals change. I need to stay the course. I will get there. I need to stop putting things off (because I’m terrified of the change it’ll demand from me). But I do know I need to figure out how to move forward…and soon