Self Reflection - Ugly Truth....

Photo - Oscar Keys/Unsplash

It was a Friday night.  Wintry, dark and cold.
Late.
The perfect time for melancholic examinations of self and purpose to commence.

Who the fuck am I?!?

The questions began to roll into her conscious mind.  Red wine, cheap red wine will advance this process and allow for the momentum required to get to the bottom of this matter.

Class yourself as a feminist?  What, because you read a bit of Simone de Beauvoir's "The Second Sex"?  And basically, it's just placed strategically upon a shelf on display in your living room?  That's keeping up (false) appearances my love, don't kid yourself!

So what, you know who Donna Harraway is.  Who gives a shit that you "think" you understand the concept of the Cyborg Manifesto?  You grasped it - barely - I use the term grasp in the lightest possible sense of the world.  

So she steals others thoughts.  An accumulation of theivery of other's ideas and constructing them into her own identity.  She's a basic mis-match of other's identities - masquerading them as her own.

Stealing thoughts and then proceeding to throw them around carelessly into conversations in an attempt to feel cultured and educated.  What a fucking delusion.  What a fraud!!

IMPOSTER!!!

Who the fuck am I?

How many coke binges does it take until you can class yourself as an addict?

How many men do you have to sleep with to class yourself a slut?

Why the need for categorization?
Is it even important?

If you don't know who the fuck you are, I assume it provides comfort to be able to place yourself somewhere.  In some way it helps you make some sense of it all?

She played the part of the broken girl for years.  Damaged.  Starving herself, inhaling shit up her pretty little nostrils in an attempt to appear more interesting, less dull.

Ironically (but not surprisingly), all that shit just made her dull.  It dimmed her light, and extinguished her soul.  And now she plays the victim card, complaining that she is lost.

But she wanted to be lost?  

The Universe is confused by the manifestations of this creature.  She gave her all that she wanted.

Play a part for long enough, and the pretense becomes the person.

She sat uncomfortably with her thoughts.

She had created this life for herself.

So she did what any sane person would choose to do in such circumstances, she vowed to never again drink a cheap red and contemplate herself at the same time, ever again!

She also decided that from this exact point she was primarily responsible for her life.

She was done playing the damaged card.

She was done with judgement and harsh self-criticism.

She was done with the pretense.

What is Love ~ Poem

Photo - Mario Azzi - Unsplash

A life 

In which she is scared to love

To be loved

For she does not know

What love really is.

Is love sex

Is it lust

Passion and pain

for her

One and the same

The mundane

The day to day

The minutiae...

Is that love?

Afraid

Afraid of allowing herself to be loved

Her imperfect self

Her completely human self

Afraid to give up autonomy

To be one part

Of another

"No Man is an Island"

Yet she keeps 

Surrounding herself with walls

Alone, Protected

Yet the desire for connection calls

Can you Walk your Talk?

Photo - Stas Svechnikov/Unsplash

Can you walk your talk?  Can you be brave enough to own who you are, unapologetically?

Seems simple, right?  Just be you.  Be authentic, be true to yourself and your values, and dance to the beat of your own drum.  And I believe it is that simple - once you've managed to rid yourself of the societal and parental conditioning which has molded you into a homogeneous identikit -conformist individual.  (If we are fortunate our parents embrace the cool individuals we are and nurture our uniqueness - but not always, and not out of malevolence, but simply because they themselves were raised to conform).

We want to be authentic, intentional and conscious beings.  The part that's the struggle is uncovering whom that person is beneath all of the shit that has been layered on top, and essentially embodied and internalized by us via the socialization process of growing up in modern Western society.

I had no fucking idea who I really was underneath all of the layers of whom I was supposed to be.  The inner me did a runner when she realised at a young age that who she was was definitely not going to be welcome round these parts. Therefore, I embarked on an ongoing mission throughout my early adult years, to either: become someone who does fit in, or attempting to imitate others in the vain hope no-one will realise I'm an impostor and kick me to the kerb of society where the tumbleweeds blow free and the wind whistles eerily.

Suffice to say, that didn't work out so well (fake it til you make it doesn't work with actual 'self' apparently- or I'm doing it wrong).  Nope, instead I most likely came across as unauthentic, lost, changeable, flaky and one hell of a social chameleon.  My friendships throughout my early childhood and adolescence had a rather high turn-over rate.  I decided I was simply anti-social, and likely didn't posses the social skills to maintain and nurture friendships the way others were able to do so effortlessly (all of which were not true).  As if being a teenager wasn't challenging enough, it's even more so when you're feeling like a misfit and you've no idea why you don't fit in the way others apparently seem to.

People-pleasing is one seriously damaging character trait.  But one which is adopted in an attempt to fit in and feel accepted.  But, in doing so we lose who we are in the process.  We crush our own souls and become filled with resentment and bitterness.  Why can't I just say no?  Why can I not say what I truly feel right now?  Because I need to fit in.  Because I need to feel accepted. But why do I need to fit in?  And why the hell do I not accept myself?  It's crazy, but not uncommon.  As Dr Suess quite rightly said, 'Those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter' (unfortunately I never read Dr Suess as a child - I reckon it could have been life-altering if I had!)

My son is one of my greatest teachers.  If that child does not want to say hello or smile then he just doesn't.  He say's what's on his mind, and he lacks any type of filter.  He doesn't give a toot if anyone thinks he's impolite.  He truly does please himself- and I bloody admire that in him so much.  This is not to say he's a difficult child, nor is he unfriendly - he is one gregarious little dude who absolutely loves human interaction, but he will not compromise himself in order to be liked or well thought of.  He knows who he is and he will not bend for anyone.

Earlier this year my son and I were returning from a trip away, and on the plane on the way back home we were seated next to a lovely women who I can only describe as Little Miss Sunshine incarnate.  She was full of beaming smiles every time you caught her eye.  My son asked her 'why do you smile all the time?' to which she responded, 'because it's nice to smile'.  My son agreed with this statement whilst adding, 'yeah, but not all the time - only if you truly mean it, and you can't mean it all the time'.  The dude's 6 years old and wiser than most grown up people I've ever encountered.  

Let's not do things to be 'nice', let's do stuff cause' we mean it.  Let's be sincere and authentic.  Let's drop the sha-backle of people-pleasing and show it's boundary-less ass to the door.  Let's let go of those in our lives who only accept us under condition.  Let's show up and be us.  Be you.  Embrace you.  And when we aren't too sure who that 'you' is, follow the gut feeling.  Respond instead of reacting, instead of playing out a part that's pre-rehearsed from our mental archive of how we think we should act in a given situation - respond from the heart.

My intention from this moment forward is to show up every-single-goddamn-day as me, and only me.....

Cause' who gives a flying pigeons foot about fitting into a shape that's well outdated?  I'd rather walk my talk and live like I mean it.