I ventured into town today and survived. I sat in the sun, amongst the bustle and was overwhelmed by life. There was a man singing, I didn’t like his songs or even his voice, but he was so alive. I couldn’t stop myself from feeling; the people going past, the music, his voice ringing out. I almost cried. At what, I couldn’t tell you; all these people living their lives, the life I was watching day by day drift past, empty and meaningless.
I began thinking about all the people I am, have been and could be. All the different selves that these people passing by me are or could be. I feel like a million tiny fragments of myself, fragilely and desperately held together. I need to discover my real self and fuse me together from the scattered fragments and dust.
I have spent my life moulding into whatever person fits best into the environment around me. I adapt to play whatever role is required of me; in friendships, other relationships, at work. There have been times when I have ended up in a situation where I am trying to be two different people at the same time: the drunken, fun friend and the caring, sensible friend. It is difficult and confuses others as much as it confuses me. It usually leads to some kind of internal combustion and then I have to hide for a while. Try and get a little bit of isolation and sense of self back. Sometimes there seems to be so many roles to fulfil there is not enough of me, or enough sides of me, to go around.
In the past, far back in the past, it was not so bad. I had the best sense of self-identity in childhood. I knew who I was, what I stood for, what I wanted to fight for and how I wanted to change the world. I thought I could change the world. Simpler than that, I had likes and dislikes, opinions and views, I had enjoyment.
But I could see I was different. I moulded and adapted. A self-willed enculturation took place, on the outside. Inside I still knew who I was and resisted when I had to resist. But I began to step away from myself to make things easier. A coward’s way out. I appeared to care too much about things outside of myself, in a way that others didn’t I felt like I was always campaigning and fighting against the grain, even if it was only an inner battle. I was very passionate about inequality and animal rights. I tried to fight huge injustices alone and failed. Eventually, I began to close myself off.
That is how I have survived in life so far, by closing off my heart. Learning not to feel or at least not showing that I feel. For me, outward displays of emotions, feeling and a moral code had to be hidden, pushed deep down and locked away, kept at bay. I had to appear to be like everybody else, although I often wondered how many other people were doing the same. No one could really be this empty. Then I worried in case most people truly were.
Are most people conscious of who they are? I often hate myself and the way I am, but I must feel better about myself than some people do. I have no problem with being alone and, as I’ve often said, I am better alone and definitely more like my true self. I do not need or want others to define myself, but I cannot help adjusting to fit the required mould when I am not alone.
To be my true self I must hold what I think is important and right, over that of the crowd. I must stand strong.
I used to be strong, although I thought of myself as weak. I know now that feeling deeply and having compassion and empathy are not weaknesses. I need to find the courage to embrace that.
Positive Disintegration 