Ppl don't have to f w u, Dissociation and Detachment

See People don’t have to fuck with you, the whole you, parts of you, or even you all together. It’s not in the rule book. No one has to fuck with you for a single moment, or for every moment and face you’ve ever worn or will ever wear. No one has to like the essential and real you, not with your mask on nor when you that drop the veneer, lay bear and vulnerable, freely you. You, living from where the heart is born, aren’t impervious from someone not fucking with with you. You don’t fuck with everyone either. We are everyone, all participating in an indivisible living fabric with a shared destiny, a fabric and its inhabitants we don’t always show care for. And yet, we still don’t have to fuck with everyone.

We each carry a few people, our people, through time with us. An incredibly difficult yet fruitful choice to make is detaching ourselves from those we care the deepest for when we step into or across time. We can meet up wherever we’re going anyways haha.

We can often confuse detachment from the form or shape of someone or something, for dissociating from the moment of our experience of them. When we dissociate, we jettison ourselves or the world around us, from the experience. We cut ties with the warm livelihood that unites us with both indispensable parts of the story of how we got to this street corner. Both parts of the story, Us AND the World. Where your Mom is at, your family’s at, the brothers and sisters we paintsainkingly and sometimes blissfully light bonfires of burning love with.

I get it, life’s tough as fuck, and love can be poisoned with violence and distrust. The people supposed to love us can break our hearts, discard us, make us feel unloved, unworthy of acceptance as we are or are becoming. Their turmoils could have boiled over to us, they might have had reason to challenge the grounds of your love, or perhaps they just don’t fuck with us; which is unfortunate when we can often gove so much care to the people that deserve it least.

We can try building spider nests over the spaces that promise the familiar sting of a distant and barren love, the one that keeps us around with moments of relief at the convenience of their captivating hearts. We can grow up learning to tie together love and fear, comfort and discomfort, pain and love, chaos and peace. When we uncouple the two, experience the unconditional love of the people closest to our hearts, it can be overwhelming. We might freak out and count the ticking seconds till fear of our selves or the world creep their ugly mugs and distort our perception of the moment.

We often dissociate to keep ourselves safe of sabotage, especially self-sabotage. If we’re not 'in' we can’t mess up right? As though if we step far back into the parts of our mind that dip into oblivion, far away from the experience we’ve castrated ourselves from, then we’ll be safe. Safe in the comfort of a working mind, where I won’t be bothered or judged, where no words can reach me, where I am the master of my own world and no one could lay a claim to my heart.

Detachment does a similar thing, you gain inner autonomy, you become your own centre of gravity, except the catch is you can only detach yourself from the orbit of loved creation when you lay your heart bare to it. Not when you cut yourself out of it all together in some non-existant void.

Detachment, in a basic sense, is stepping outside a binary relationship and occupying a third seat, the seat of an observer to a dynamic and experienced story. Here neither of the components of this co-authored story is discarded, instead, both are preserved, and in our efforts to detach ourselves from either component’s exclusive interests, the singular outcome of their expressive force, we let go of the reigns of either one of these two fishes circling one another in a pond, and allow them to flow around each other in their most natural and untampered expression of harmonious being. When you try neither to re-write who you are in an effort to be accepted by the world, nor re-write the world and its people in order to cater to your insecurities or fears, you allow both parts of the story to simply Be, as they are, in-themselves. 

People don’t have to fuck with you, you don’t have to fuck with everyone, what’s important is that you fuck with you. That will only ever happen when you’re true and real with yourself, when you drop the faces or your appeasements of others at the expense of who you are. When you accept every face you’ve ever worn as it fits in the unity of who you presently are. As the Lord’s love sees you, as your loved one’s feel you, as you know you. 

P.S.: A passive character in a film with unreliable and unintentional direction vs. An active observer with an awareness of immediate experience.