I’m really thinking about all the ways in which I let other people pressure and form me into something I wasn’t. My mom, my dad, teachers, friends and all the dudes.
I wasn’t ready for any of it. It wasn’t at my pace, it wasn’t what I wanted, it wasn’t on my terms. It was from pressure, from wanting to be loved, from wanting to keep them around and to secure my place in their life. I wanted praise, I wanted to be liked, I wanted to be successful in gaining their approval, so I did whatever I had to do to ensure that. And that includes pursuing a major in school that didn’t resonate with me, among other things.
I’m staring at myself in the mirror and I have no idea who that person really is. Because I am an amalgamation of THEM. What they wanted, what they mirrored back to me.
That’s shadow work in a nutshell. You need to identify and remove all the masks that you stapled to your face so you felt like you belonged. You need to sandblast them off and become who you were before you allowed them to change you, you twisted your heart and soul in to pretzels, lost your values, your essence. My whole being feels like a Nascar vehicle. Covered in logos and slogans that are covering my personality, who I am, my true self.
I was sponsored by things I don’t respect anymore. That’s what I’m trying to say. I was so consumed by finding people I wanted accolades from that I tattooed their logo on my being while pretending I was totally into it.
I did all the things they wanted with a smile on my face while my soul was SCREAMING no.
And that screaming was happening a lot. Like the bulk of my life. And I shut that voice off and tied her in the basement only to reemerge in the last few years. And boy did she have a lot to say to me.
Most rigid thinkers won’t understand this or believe me. “Changing who you are to feel loved, safe and accepted? There’s no way, who would do this??”
I mean, in a way, society has conditioned every last one of us to do something that would be totally odd via passed down traditions that we don’t think much about. But we rarely question it. Wearing a tie? A ceremonial hat? Shake hands upon meeting? Hanging ornaments on a tree with lights in December? Get married? All questionable. George Carlin talked about this often with reckless abandon.
Anyway, you don’t have to understand or relate or respect what I am saying. I’m just saying it happened and I need to address it and undo it. But I honestly think there are many of you out there who are having the same revelation. Maybe it’s a midlife crisis? Maybe it’s a new wave of spirituality, an evolution, rejecting societal boundaries or gender roles or just pure, simple anarchy.
I accepted breadcrumbs, I accepted NOTHING and gave them all of me wrapped up in their packaging. Gross. And it’s pathetic and sad and I see it now.
But as I let who I am actually emerge, I think she’s kind of cool (every other day). And funny. And perceptive and intuitive and very, very sensitive. Point is, I like who she is and I like who I am becoming. And I promised this person that I won’t accept breadcrumbs or the pressure of changing for anyone ever again.
I lived in a fantasy world for so long. I took the lemons people gave me and added copious amounts of sugar, but they were always lemons, the way I was treated was always sour. I just made it work and absorbed it. I poured into people hoping they’d see me and pour back. And for whatever reason, they didn’t… and I felt disposable and invisible.
I’m finally learning that me giving has to come from a place of stillness and reverence, like a well. I was a frantic faucet pouring into anyone I wanted attention to. I need to sit back, be calm, be confident in myself and only pour into those who appreciate it.
I’m finally seeing that giving and giving and giving isn’t going to guarantee that I will be chosen or loved. Time to absorb the reality of it.
In keeping with the GnR theme, I listened to November Rain and it resonates with this post. Lame, I know… but it’s been an Axl sort of few days. (ChatGPT is still down and my fun images are on hold for now… just enjoy this THIRTY year old picture of Axl & Stephanie’s fake wedding)
p.s… I’m tapering off that Lexapro and feel like myself more every day. Yes, there are zings of anxiety, but I can feel my motivation coming back. Courage to be in public without wanting to cry or bitch about what I’m going through. My desire to want to work on my life and my body etc. All the passive energy is now more active, if that makes sense. I want to do, I want to exercise again and I’m starting to wonder what going on a date would be like (mostly if I could spot an authentic dude from a non-authentic one). It hit me today… I’ve never actually dated. AND I’ve never actually dated a you know, full blown adult male. Do they even exist or is that an oxymoron?
