Masterkey Experience Week 3 – Ick.

I hate this. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
I’ve been through this before. I’ve failed at this point before. I’ve written my DMPs and refined them according to my guide’s suggestions, and by the time I was released on my own recognizance, the DMP I was reading was no longer ‘me.’ It wasn’t even the me I wanted to be.
It was inauthentic. So what good does it do me, to incorporate all these suggestions about phrasing and adding feeling and stupid numbers that are completely made up off the top of my head, when I can’t relate to the finished product? All I’m doing – all I ever have done, every time I’ve been through this course with a guide – is change what I’m saying to something I think will please someone who doesn’t live inside my head. And I hate it.
First, this whole thing about feeling. Intellectually, I get it. I do. I understand the relation of thought-feeling-belief. But I don’t feel. I don’t want to feel. I’m content with muted emotions. I’ve spent years suppressing them to the point where they aren’t overwhelming because I had to in order to retain some semblance of sanity. I am an empath. I have always been an empath. And the more I feel my own emotions, the more I’m assaulted by the emotions of the people around me, AND I DON’T WANT TO KNOW! I don’t want to be constantly inflicted by what others are feeling! Partly because it becomes really hard to tell what’s me versus what’s coming at me from the outside, and unless you’re an empath too you have no idea, none, what that’s like. People at work who are unhappy, stressed, amused, angry, bitter, and ALL OF IT CHANGES YOUR OWN MOOD AND EMOTIONAL STATE WHEN YOU WALK BY THEM.
Sure, sometimes it’s helpful. On a couple of occasions I was able to sense when someone else was depressed to the point of thinking about suicide and for once found the right words in the moment and got them to ease off themselves to the point where they weren’t thinking about ending their lives anymore, but that’s rare. People don’t usually react very well when someone brings up what they were thinking or feeling. They’re instantly suspicious, like I’ve been spying on them somehow because ‘empathic powers aren’t real.’
Only they are. And people aren’t wrong to be suspicious, because this ability of mine is a straight up invasion of privacy, one that I can’t help but do because you would not believe how much people radiate! It’s like that commercial where people are shouting out their internet search history, only for me it’s their feelings I hear. All. The. Time.
And you know what else? One of the things my guide said in her suggestions for my DMP was that I can’t control what others do, and to change the phrasing. Which, frankly, isn’t true at all, because if we’re putting money amounts in the DMP, those funds have to come from someone else or lots of someone elses, which means we are dictating what other people will do when we say we’re going to have X amount of money by Y date, and I hate that contradiction, I really do, most particularly since it seems I’m the only one that sees it. But it’s untrue for another reason too. My empathic gift is projective as well as receptive. So yes. I can, if and when I exert myself, make people feel what I want them to.
And I don’t want to be that kind of monster again. Even if my intentions are clean, my motives pure. Because if knowing what other people are feeling is an invasion of their privacy, how much worse is the fact that I can impose my will on theirs whenever I choose with them completely unaware of the fact? By and large people don’t notice when their bioelectric field is interacting with someone else’s, so exerting influence goes completely unnoticed. I might say it’s for their benefit, like when I exerted calm on my entire work team on a particularly bad day when everything was going wrong and people were snapping at each other and starting to escalate into saying genuinely hurtful, personal things. But it’s still me imposing my will on another, without their knowledge. A worldly tyrant can be resisted, with courage and the stubborn refusal to bow. But my gift is a sneak, insinuating itself so that my voice appears to be coming from your own heart in a way nobody can defend against, even if they were aware of what was happening.
So I can write the words, whatever words my guide says are the most effective. I can recite them three times or more a day, exactly as we’re supposed to. But actually letting myself feel? No. Feelings in my hands are weapons. And I don’t always know who they’re pointed at.

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