Self-Centered (But With the Emphasis on Centered)

When Rosie said Existential Kink is about recognizing that the things we’ve buried in our subconscious — not just the shadowy stuff we label as “bad,” but even the gifts we were born with — might be what's actually turning us on... I dropped my proverbial embroidery.

Wait — what?
Only Don’t Know. (I have the pillow.)

“What on earth are you suggesting, Rhett? That I get off on something buried in my Pandora’s box?”
— Said in my best fake southern accent, obviously.

This morning, as I found myself wondering what’s the deal with tears, I came across a TikTok — a woman (scientist? therapist?) explaining that the body literally transforms emotion into water. Tears. That our feelings, instead of combusting or calcifying, leak out of our faces.

Honestly? That’s magic.
Actual transmutation.
Emotion to liquid. Rage to salt.
Grief to rain.

And here’s the definition of “emotionally available” I’ve decided to adopt:
Can laugh and cry easily.
That’s it.
That's good enough for me.

Since I want to be an emotionally available human, I practice letting the tears come. I also engage — gleefully — in what I call “cartooning” whenever the opportunity arises. It’s my favorite fast track to connection with another human. Nothing else gives me that hit like a moment of shared, silly humanity.

But then — on the heels of my tear investigation — in pops a thought. A connection. A dot to dot to Existential Kink and the subconscious... sub-conscience? (Don’t ask me the difference. I don’t know. I don’t care.)

Suddenly, a bright alert pops up on the monitor of my brain:

"One of your buried gifts, Diane... is your self-centeredness."

Gabriel’s horn sounds.
Wait — what?!

You mean the same “self-centered” that was named (poorly) by my father through the lens of his own wounds? The one who said:

• You’re selfish.

• You’re overanalytical.

• You ask too many questions.

Turns out he wasn’t entirely wrong.
He just didn’t have the right framing.

Yes, I am self-absorbed — in the most devoted, curious, conscious way.
Yes, I am a relentless question-asker.
Yes, I am a Questioner and an Upholder (Gretchen Rubin would be proud).

And get this: the retreat I just signed up for is called...

“Full of Yourself.”

Yes, ma’am.
A whole weekend with women exploring what it means to take up space, drop the shrinking, and become centered in the truth of who they are.

I’ll be journeying alongside them, not in spite of my self-centeredness — but because of it. With a loud, joyful, defiant cry:
“You go, girl!”

Let’s be honest — the phrase self-centered has had the emphasis on the wrong syllable this whole time.

It’s not “selfish.”
It’s centered in self.
And that, my friends, is the battle cry.