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I’m obsessive. My mother tells me so, far more frequently than I appreciate. I think it’s a trait I inherited from my father, but my mother was determined to push me past it. Surprise! I still struggle with it.

Intrusive thoughts are in my nature. I will likely struggle to find perspective repeatedly in the rest of my life, but I’m working to reframe things when I notice this happening. I’m seeking pause, calmness, and growth. Checking in with myself and finding another viewpoint for my situation. My brain rarely turns off. Rumination is nearly constant because I struggle to turn my brain off. I’m lucky, though. I can fall asleep most of the time, unlike most people that struggle with this.

What’s hard for people to realize is that this is how I am about everything. Yes, EVERYTHING. I will ruminate on the order of actions I took in loading the dishwasher, folks. Why, or when, would that ever matter? Why spend energy recounting the actions of loading the dishwasher? I mean, it’s done, I walked away from it. My subconscious is not currently providing the answer to such odd obsessions. Maybe it just really likes dishwashers?

Where this becomes a true problem is in my interactions with people. I can obsess on a topic in conversation that I should have let go. I can obsess about my feelings, or the specific words I chose, or the feelings I picked up off another person in the conversation. Some of this is a part of neurodivergence, some of it is anxiety, and I’m sure there’s more than those contributing. Neurotypicals often struggle with my forms of conversation, and I feel their sense of alienation and distance. Likely, this is due to my tendency to fixate on specific aspects of the conversation instead of flowing with the conversation from topic to topic. I bounce around like a laser pointer toy for a cat, and I’ve always struggled with letting go.

Hmmm. Why do I cling to things? Why do I ruminate? In short: a deep sense of loneliness. A lack of belonging. Again, it’s taken a long time to realize this. I have belonging now, in ways I didn’t dream was possible for me. 5 years ago, I would have said that belonging just wasn’t meant for me. I was meant to suffer; I didn’t deserve that kind of happiness. These are intrusive thoughts that stemmed directly from those feelings of insecurity and loneliness. They may never be fully gone, but they get better over time.

This is the first time in my life that I’ve really embraced myself, and loved myself intentionally. How did I get here? Short answer: therapy and friends. My friends loved me, even at my worst moments lacking love for myself. I realized that I used helping others as a way of lifting myself from my darkness. If I could brighten someone else’s world, maybe then I would be worthy of love. We know this is flawed (you, beautiful reader, and me.) This is a trauma response: thinking I am only as good as what I can give to others. If you’ve done any work on people pleasing, fawning, etc. then you know that this is not true. If you are not aware: you are worthy, regardless of your contributions externally.

It sucks to say this, but the biggest thing that helped me find and love myself intentionally… was removing the people who didn’t make the space for me. It’s the hardest part. As someone who sees the good in people, loves them, and supports them – removing them is the opposite of my instinct. We’ve heard the quote “you can’t pour from an empty cup.” Those people drain the cup. No matter how many people you have to fill your cup, if you keep those that drain your cup – your cup will always empty before you share it with all the people you want to. When I removed those that drained my cup in ways that could affect me for days after, I was overwhelmed by the support and fullness of the friends who filled my cup.

I was so immersed in a life full of people needing me to fill their cups that even with my vast friend base filling my cup – it wasn’t enough to balance. I love filling others’ cups, it’s one of the best parts of my job. I meet new students every semester, I teach them new things, I help them make decisions about their degrees and careers, and then I get to watch them go on to new things. My job drains my cup, but I wouldn’t change it because it fills my cup to see them succeed. That investment is worth it. Much like raising a child (but a lot less work!) the investment is not draining in the same way.

If there’s anyone in your life that turns your positives into negatives – this is the kind of drain on your resources that is not an investment. If there’s anyone in your life who constantly reminds you of your flaws – that’s another drain on your resources. If there’s anyone in your life asking you to live by their rules and standards instead of your own – that’s a drain on your resources. Full stop. These are drains we cannot sustain. Someone we see very rarely, perhaps we can weather it – but it wears on us. Consider the weight; the wear and tear on you.

While living through these things myself, I did find one tool that really helped me regain perspective and preserve some of my cup. Every night, I did a check in that was similar to rumination – but actually helpful. In my interactions with those that I recognized were draining my cup, I took time to review exactly what happened. In that review, I would recount things without emotional attachment (to the best of my ability), articulate where the drains occurred, then analyze why they occurred, and reframe the interaction with that context.

I will provide an example. A partner I once had, long ago, made a rule that was roughly “anything that doesn’t fit in the spaces I’ve provided for you will be thrown away.” This caused consistent turmoil for me because the spaces were a cubby and a drawer, and I was living there. I only earned the cubby after pleading for more space because a single drawer for me to live out of was not enough. This was a very controlling relationship with several other drains, but let’s just focus on the impact of the rule so I can break this down for you.

For this example I will use an instance of this partner throwing away something of mine that happened to be outside of the allotted spaces. That’s the action done by the person draining my cup. The drain emotionally comes from a loss of something that was mine, and that I cared about. I didn’t have much in my possession, so every possession held value to me. There was some amount of grief in the loss. The emotional toll was both that grief and an underlying sense of punishment for my actions. Why did this “partner” do the action that caused the drain? First, they made a rule, and they were following through on the promise (threat?) that came with that rule. To them it was essentially business, not emotion that drove their actions. They did not choose to throw things away to intentionally drain me. That knowledge helps, but it also hurts because it shows that they couldn’t understand their impact. The emotional response to this was to feel punished intentionally by the “partner.” The reframe is recognizing that, this “partner” is not acting from an emotional space, and that their actions do not define me or what I did as bad. There is far more context to these kinds of interactions, but taking the time to reinforce my center – my stability – went miles to withstanding the drain of my cup. Try it? Let me know how it goes. But, with the caveat that this is intended as a temporary tool for a transitional period or to assist in healing from past experiences. Don’t live like that, please. I’m begging you to consider the toll on you – it won’t fix the damage if you are unable to get away from the drain. Love.

OOH! Here’s a short, but funny story about my obsessive nature…

When I was quite young, I LOVED the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, maybe I still do… I didn’t have many of their toys, though. I had a happy meal toy that was a TMNT shell that slid open and I took it with me everywhere. There are no words to express the sincere, obsessive, love that I had for the TMNT as a kid. I was living on the West coast at this time, in a small town. We flew out to the East coast and I saw city streets and sewer grates… for the first time (at least, in my mind it was the first time.) The TMNT lived in the sewer, so I recognized the grates and became obsessed with looking for the TMNT in the sewer grates. I was carrying my shell, and I wanted to show it to them (adorable, right? Kids are so sweet!) If you’ve ever been to a city, you know how frequently you pass the sewer grates… I stopped at Every. Single. One. My parents and the rest of the family we were visiting quickly lost their amusement in my search for the TMNT and had to convince me to stop. “Maybe they don’t want to be found? Maybe they’re off fighting crime?” I don’t remember exactly what they said, but I was moved toward the center of the group and corralled to our destination. Believe me, I tried to escape. I was (and still am) more stubborn than anyone I know, and I wanted to meet the TMNT because I loved them.

Obsession and rumination can be cute when you’re a little kid… Turtle Power!

May your week bring you peace and love, -S.