Today Canada observes its National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, honoring the children who never returned home from residential schools, the Survivors, and their families and communities. Their stories deserve to be heard on their own terms. Here in the United States, the day has me thinking about the questions we sometimes silence in our own lives. That thought takes me back to an earlier entry:
I have long believed that the truth of just about anything can be found in all the questions you aren’t allowed to ask. A more sobering truth, however, is that often the person who is refusing to allow “the questions” we so desperately need the answers from is the one we face in the mirror. With that being said, I cannot encourage anyone who’s searching for the reasons they’re sinking to the abyss strongly enough to do that most important work of all, which is to sit with yourself in solitude and have what just may be the most important conversation of your life.
Might I suggest that you “get lost” until you “get found” by following the questions YOU “aren’t allowed to ask” all the way down to the truth? Just sayin’.
Much love to my spirit animal, Franz Kafka, for penning the words that I would eventually embody in such a paradoxical fashion! It is beyond my own comprehension that I became so lucky that I “GET” TO LOVE ME, “fuckin’ perfect flaws and all,” and almost alwaysdespite myself! Just sayin’!
Empaths go through two transformations: naïve innocence and awakened strength. At first, they love without limits, driven by the need to please and the fear of abandonment- making them easy targets for narcissists and manipulators. This cycle continues until a breaking point, where deep betrayal or emotional abuse shatters them entirely. But destruction leads to transformation. They rebuild with boundaries, self-respect, and emotional intelligence. No longer naive, they become empowered empaths-kind, but intentional. Compassionate, but no longer exploitable. They don’t lose their empathy-they learn how to wield it.
(Author Unknown)
Hey! You! EMPATH! It’s “World Empathy Day” once again, so don’t you even worry about those chaos-filled bullshit buses today! Just get in your even BETTER bus, turn that bitch around so you’re squared up, grill to grill, with those people, places, and things that come to drain your tank, then honk your horn back at them as loud as you possibly can! In the meantime, be sure to be continually healing yourself:
👉🏼 Just … Say … NO!
Keep on learning and learning and learning this! Saying NO is Rule No. 1 for an empath! Beware of all that people-pleasing, ’cause you WILL be taken advantage of, so: “Umm, NO thanks!” with ZERO guilt should be your holy grail!
Being able to identify and validate your OWN needs is crucial for your continual rebooting! How do YOU feel? What do YOU think? What are YOUR limitations and deal-breakers? KNOW and PROTECT THEM! You CANNOT fill anyone else’s cup if yours is fuckin’ EMPTY!
👉🏼 DISENGAGE and DISCONNECT!
Power down and recharge your grid when the world at large has tapped you out! Is it selfish to shut everyone out? YUP! You BETCHA! It’s selfish, selfish, SELFish (and allowed)!
Okay, kids! So, what have we learned today? Being an empath is one of THE greatest blessings AND curses! “To whom much is given?” Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! Now, who’s gonna GIVE back to YOU? TAG! Sometimes YOU’RE gonna have to be IT, my empath friend! So, grab those bus keys and DRIVE it! Or, take a nap in it. Just take care of YOU today!
And so, with that: “Bye everyone, it’s me, CAT (and my voices)!” Here’s hoping that you, too, are nourishing yourself with all the very best running commentaries and internal dialogues this magnificent collective has to offer! Please now enjoy this clip below of me and my voices in their most everyday state of ridiculousness, joy, laughter, and refusal to not just be ME …
I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I’d cry for a week.
Everyone was packing for the journey back home, but I was on pins and needles. Since my bags were ready, I’d decided to walk down to the water to clear my head once more before we left. On the way down the boulevard in Beaulieu-Sur-Mer, I ran into our tour guide, Adoram, who was heading back to the hotel after having been out with our driver, Pierre.
Adoram was a lovely Israeli man who everyone on tour fell in love with. I sensed that he was an empath who was deeply concerned with the human condition, and it was clear that he fervently loved not only France, but even more so his job sharing it. He didn’t work from a script; his musings came from a place of pure love and adoration as he described the things we saw. He’d even managed to capture the attention of the boys who were the reason for our trip, which of course was a feat. As you can imagine, your average teenager wants as much to do with the history of a foreign country as waking at 6:00 a.m. on a summer vacation in the first place. Adoram and I had spoken often while on tour, and on several occasions, he’d commented that I’d seemed even “farther away” than the trip itself. “How are you, Cat?” he asked me many times, but I would just change the subject, as I didn’t want to become too heavy and truly wanted to stay immersed in the experience.
That night, Adoram and Pierre caught me heading down to the waterfront around 9 p.m. as they were heading back up. He wanted to know where I was going and didn’t want me wandering alone in the dark. So, he turned to Pierre, uttered something in French, then turned to follow me back down the hill.
Well Cat, I’m not thrilled with you out here alone in the dark like this, so you can go and sit by the water as long as you like, but I’m afraid I’ll be joining you.
After much resistance on my part, but insistence on his, and having repeatedly said my stroll was for sightseeing only, we finally began talking about life in general and then about “what had me staring so far out the windows of the bus each day.” He was such a good listener, never once interrupting my thoughts, and in fact was quite easy to talk to. “What’s really bothering you, Cat?” is what he wanted to know. With that, I talked, then cried, then drank Sambuca, then cried and talked some more, then breathed … then finished.
When I was done telling him all “the things,” he fixed his gaze upon the shoreline like a deer caught in the headlights as we sat quietly staring into the abyss for what seemed like eternity. “Okay,” I said, “THIS is where you pat me on the back and tell me how beautiful my life is NOW!” Still, no response. “… AND” I continued, “THIS is where everyone else usually tells me, ‘Everything’s gonna be okay and everything happens for a reason.’” Then he turned to me and spoke the words I never knew I’d needed to hear:
No, Catherine! NONE of this is okay, and none of this may EVER be okay! You have had some HUGELY rotten shit happen to you, and I can hardly believe that you’re still here to talk about it!
Adoram Schneidleder … my beautiful Israeli tour guide … the first of any to validate my broken feelings and help me begin to shed my skin on the coast of France in the wee hours of dawn. I’d begun to find my voice!
As we walked back to the hotel, I felt lighter than I had in what felt like a century, a sensation I couldn’t quite relate to. Yet, somehow, it felt SO good! He hugged me so tight before I headed to my room. I thanked him profusely and said I felt as though I was about to have a truly restful sleepfor what was left of the morning. And? I DID! I laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes for the first time in years and drifted peacefully to sleep! No drugs. No alcohol. No food. No anesthesia. Nothing to medicate my slumber! I fell asleep on my own and awoke feeling reborn.
The lobby was abuzz that morning with the clamor of travelers and their suitcases. Adoram was busy answering questions, directing traffic, and saying his goodbyes. I felt a little uneasy with him at that point, as I wasn’t exactly sure how he may have received and digested our conversation just hours earlier, and I was a bit uneasy to approach him. It had only been a couple of hours since he had brazenly walked through the gauntlet of my mind, and he had to have thought I was insane. When we got to the airport, though, immediately after he hugged me goodbye, he handed me an envelope with this note inside:
Dear Cat,
Since on tour there are not many moments for communication, and tomorrow we probably won’t get the chance, I decided to write you a note. Your story – that you shared with me last night – is huge. I did not at any point feel that you were being either inconsiderate, selfish or just “needy” by sharing it with me. And, if having “unloaded” some weight with me has helped you see things clearer, then I actually feel honored to have been able to help. No fears whatsoever. And I hope you will sleep as well tonight as you did last night and that you will continue this way forever. I understand that it was important to unload – and probably being in a foreign country and doing with a stranger who would listen was the best way. I’m happy to have been that person for you. You have gone through some real heavy shit. Don’t ever forget it! And, don’t lose to consciousness of your inner strength. You have it – it’s there! Don’t forget to take care of yourself – of your needs and desires – while you give everything you have to your family. If you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to take care of them. I am sure they love and need you. I know Christian does. I can see it in his eyes and in the way that he looks at you. Take care of yourself girl! You’re a wonderful woman and you’ve got lots to give others and to yourself! It was a pleasure meeting you!
~ Adoram
SHED MY SKIN
I am not alone. I live with the memories; regret is my home. This is my true freedom. Express all the feelings of what I’ve become. I watch the rising sun. I hope I find some peace today. It seems I’ve gone away. It seems I’ve lost myself; it seems I’ve really lost my way. It seems I’ve lost myself; it seems I’ve shed my skin. Are you ready for me to purge my love? Are you ready for me? A bitter sinking feeling. Awake to the fact there’s no going back to this world in which I was living. I’m searching for something but found less than nothing.
