** This one is tough to write, I may close comments to it… we’ll see, it cuts pretty close to home
After last week’s session with Morpheus, I was pretty upset with her. Misplaced, I’m know, but she made me realize something about myself that is very true. And it’s one of the “biggies” or so it seems to me.
It’s something that I’ve done to myself, a way of protecting myself much like my “why bother” attitude. Actually, it’s probably a result of that attitude. Why bother having friendships or relationships when I’m already supposed to be dead? But there are a multitude of other things that go along with admitting that fact. Actually, “admitting” is the wrong term, “addressing” that fact would be a better way of putting it.
Addressing it means that I need to try and rekindle some old friendships, enhance some existing ones and who knows, maybe even start some new ones. Setting myself out there as just another guy, warts and all, who is worth being friends with. ** You have no idea how hard it was to write that.
Realizing that I’m lonely is hard to deal with. Even harder is to admit that I do. not. like. it. It’s like stripping away the last layer of my defenses against the evil hordes of real life.
How much of the public face I show the rest of the world is real and how much of that real me will I allow myself to see? How much of what is truly me on the inside has never seen the light of day? Smothered like a sapling in a forest just trying to find a glimmer of sunlight? Do “I” even really exist yet or am “I” still being machined down this assembly line of therapy?
And that my be the crux of the whole damn thing, my image of “self” has been so damaged, so unflattering that it’s hard to see the real me. In fact, I may never have seen me. As the layers of guilt, shame, self-doubt, self-hate have been getting stripped away (and keep trying to claw their way back in) I wonder who the true me is. I have to find that true me and it’s hard to do.
And it’s even harder to admit is that it’s worth doing. That, you see, requires me to admit that I’m worth doing it for. To admit that I have worth. Not only to others; friends, family, loved ones but to myself.
I have worth. Now’s there’s some words I never really thought about typing.
Today’s snarky comment: There are days I wish my inner muse would kick me to the fucking curb.
© 2012 Scott Strange, Strangely Diabetic and http://StrangelyDiabetic.com