learning to unlearn (II)

a semi-list of all there is left to unlearn

Apologies for the late letter. This monday I had my very last exam, so I busied myself last week with studying to the point I forgot to dedicate some time and continue this.

Starting from where we left on, in the last letter I circled the idea that in life we should unlearn as much as we learn. Maybe it’s because I’m finishing a big part of my journey as a student, which is all I’ve ever been, maybe it is because, in the last few months, I became acutely aware of how much our surroundings, the people and the background, shape who we become, I somehow shifted my focus on things I want to unlearn, to stop being, to let go of, regarding habits, thought patterns, and details that are part of us. I’ll fill you on some of mine, to set up the scene. Many of these could fit into solo letters, and might be used if circumstance calls for such.

I want to unlearn to say ‘I told you so’. It’s an expression that somehow belittles the people we love, even if deep down we’d only like to help them. What do I gain from being right over this? Paramore have a pretty good song written in the pov of someone who’s been told that phrase once too many times.

I want to unlearn a certain saviour complex that sometimes gets the best of me, this tendency of mine to blame myself for every little thing and thus being bonded to solve all that goes wrong.

Picture this: someone you love comes home, sad, or angry, or any other state besides “happy” that is remotely “not good”. I’m trying to let go of that feeling that twists my gut into thinking it’s my responsibility to mend things, because it’s my undeniable and unavoidable fault. Even when, in retrospective, there is no obvious reason for such. No clues, no signs - but the voice in my head screeches, insists, in a twisted effort to make me believe I am a bad person.

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Believe it or not, we’re not the centres of the universe (in a good way!)…It might hurt, it will hurt, to understand we can’t always fix things. When people are upset, sometimes, all we can do is be besides them, ask if it’s our fault, offer help, a ear that listens, a shoulder to cry on; or not pester them too much but, always, reassure them that they’re not alone in this, and that our support sits in a corner, waiting to be picked, chosen. And that’s it. Looking back, we can actually do a lot, can’t we?

I want to unlearn a long-lasting habit of self-sacrifice for the greater good. Listen, I’m no saint (I’ve jaywalked a couple of times) yet, somehow, there’s almost this desperate and deeply unnatural impulse to throw myself into the fire in hopes I’ll warm someone up with the flame. It’s people pleasing, in its finest, because, would you guess it, I am terrified of disappointing people (so much it could be put into a letter).

I want to unlearn this leaning of mine to reflect my own insecurities and project them to other people. It’s a newfound discovery actually, but I tend to do it when I’m about to dive in the deep, dark pool of overthinking. As if they see my worst the way I see my worst, the lenses in front of my eyes change, tinted in a color that absolutely corrupts the entire view. I grow more insecure, and put words, reasons, justifications in my head that were never there, convincing myself that they might dislike me just a little, or are terribly good at hiding just how much they dislike me.

I want to unlearn many habits I picked from my parents, like snapping too quickly when I am angry, or cursing, or eating too quickly. To be less bitter, less of a time ticking bomb, more reliable without tarnishing my own health. In the midst of so much unlearning, I vouch for acceptance too. Because even through all the effort, there are traces of us that sometimes won’t change.

Throughout our lives, it’s an unconscious thing, us, taking from the world and making who we are, building ourselves from scratch. It is insanely hard to notice, pay attention to everything we wish we could change in ourselves as we acting in said ways. It’s always easy to point out our flaws when we’re sitting in our room after a hard, long day with no sunshine and only heavy gray clouds.

My idea is that we can try. No effort ever goes in vain. All this wanting and craving and wishing is hard work, hence why it might feel impossible or daunting. It’s not exactly a task where you can sit at your desk, open a book, repeat an exercise 20 times and call it a day. It’s persistent reminder, a second heartbeat, of how even if we will never know it all or possess everything... we don’t really need to. It’s a pedal for balance, the inner kind, I guess, not that I’m very spiritual. All in all, I want to unlearn, because I’ve learned that not everything is meant to be kept, that we have patterns that, maybe, just maybe, can be stopped. If it harms us, there is no shame or guilt in letting go.

Thank you for reading delicate, I hope you were able to listen to your favorite song today :)

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delicacies of the week

• Last week we had a national holiday, and at lunch we hung around the living room to watch ‘Cats’ (original title was Kedi) a documentary about Instabul and its many, many, many cats. They serve as guardians, walking around with the ease of a pedestrian, a local, like a smaller, much fluffier sibling or child. The people of the city tell us about their different personalities, their stories, their struggles, their importance to the city and what the future might bring for both humans and their “pets”. It was a hopeful, bittersweet and adorable piece.

  

  Screenshot from the film with a quote I liked.

• Cien hand cream. Can’t tell if it’s the alcohol we’ve been rubbing in our hands for 2 years, or if I just wash my hands in boiling water one too many times, but my skin is quite fragile. This cream however happens to be the best thing since sliced bread for my palms and fingers.

songs of this week : want me by baby queen, saturated by barrie, and means something by lizzie mcalpine| delicate’s playlist