Through The Looking Glass

"Though you've been trying to find yourself for decades, you'll be dis­appointed to tears when you find yourself living in Flagstaff and working at a screen-door factory. "

***Disclaimer: The following post is comprised of multiple individual thoughts flooding my brain at the moment. There is no intended flow or charted course - just thoughts that I clearly felt needed to get out of my skull.***

As I went through the motions of painting a new personality upon my face this morning, I almost didn't recognize my own reflection. Though this could normally be attributed to misplacing one eyebrow or altogether forgetting to thickly line an eye, it was more unusual than that. I glanced down at the outfit I hastily chose to cover my frame. Everything seemed somehow foreign.



I have one of those personas that inexplicably draws strangers from the shadows to my doorstep. A dear friend of mine, who faces the same phenomenon, explained it far more eloquently as the crowd gathering on her blanket at the park. Never alone on that blanket. I often dismissed it as nothing more than the blissful, if not unintentionally friendly innocence I exude. With each passing year, I became more of an omnipresent sponge placed upon this planet for the sole purpose of absorbing the pain, stress and sorrows of others so they could be freed of those burdens. Many of the bosses I reported to over time took curious notice of the employees who would come from far and wide only to file into my office, one by one, and release.

I do not take my empathetic nature lightly. It is with absolutely zero distaste that I've welcomed the chance to be a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, or even a dummy to punch. When the crowds would thin, I would go searching for those with pain etched across their fragility. Eager and almost desperate to help in some way. It was undoubtedly with a sense of selfishness that I would venture out on these strange journeys as it gave me purpose. Achievement. Worth.


Precisely four times in my life to date, I have made one drastic change or another to lose the weight I've struggled with since childhood. Precisely four times, I was extreme in my actions yet failed to recognize any strides made or change accomplished. Sure, I could later look back and think "My god, I did it!", but only in the rear view mirror and from the depths of a now defeated existence. The funny thing that occurred to me this morning was that it was never at my "best" when so many were drawn to me. The most remarkable people to touch my life entered when I was low. An odd thing to think that at the times when I wasn't mentally tough enough to pull myself out of a rut let alone another, is the exact moment that task was placed before me. I must have done something right as I was and am still considered the duct tape holding it all together.

I've explained before that physical appearances mean little to me. When it's a natural trait to see right through the shells we inhabit in an effort to get from Point A to B, nothing else much matters. Through the eyes of someone who wishes to possess the skills of an artist, I marvel at human forms and the personas they fancy themselves with, thanks to accessories or style... props or expressions. I enjoy the uniqueness we each exhibit through our own perceived faults. The physical signs illustrating all the wild adventures along the way. And yet I am unforgiving of my own faults and inadequacies.

Seems to me I still find myself in a state of confusion when it comes to who or what I am. What I want to be when I grow up, or even WHERE. Such selfish thoughts prove difficult to work through when you have a family. I should no longer be allowed any real level of narcissism when I am responsible for the lives of others on a scale never before experienced. With a lifetime of exposure to being everything someone else needs me to be in a moment, I find myself ill prepared to be that for more than a moment.

I believe many of my struggles lie in the fact that, as a mental sponge, I never quite learned how to release all the negative glop intoxicating every pore. Many nights, I still watch the minutes tick away unable to erase the pain of another. I pace while interrogating myself on whether I did enough or if more could have been done. There is also a load of tumultuous guilt bubbling inside from those I eventually had to turn away. The ones hellbent on poisoning me for their own gain. The times it became a sort of cruel game.

Looking up at the stranger gazing back at me in this framed and reflective glass, there is still a spark in her greyed eyes. Some hope of making sense of it all and coming to terms with all that is. Back on the grass-lined hill by some sparkly duck pond in my head, my blanket is suddenly empty. Perhaps therein lies the problem?


2 comments:

  1. In my opinion, which I always preface my comments with since I don't like to sound lecturey, there is nothing wrong with introspection.

    I wish more people would stop and examine who they are, who they want to be, where they are now on that map.

    But, instead, they slap a bracelet on that says WWJD and look at that to remind them to be better, to be nicer, to do the right thing.

    So, you see, for me,,, keep on with the stream of consciousness, think about what stops you need your path to take.

    Never stop questioning who you were born being, and how to get that person back

    Awesome work here. Exhausting, as it should be. Mental labor is so much more intensive than physical.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You are absolutely right - all around. I am one of those characters who tends to spend my nights thinking, overthinking, analyzing and overanalyzing. I always strive to be something better than I was the day before. Even when I continually fall short of my goals, I feel there is no option aside from dusting myself off and getting back on that horse. Thank you so much for your feedback as it truly means the world to me! XOXO

    ReplyDelete

Kitty

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Through The Looking Glass

"Though you've been trying to find yourself for decades, you'll be dis­appointed to tears when you find yourself living in Flagstaff and working at a screen-door factory. "

***Disclaimer: The following post is comprised of multiple individual thoughts flooding my brain at the moment. There is no intended flow or charted course - just thoughts that I clearly felt needed to get out of my skull.***

As I went through the motions of painting a new personality upon my face this morning, I almost didn't recognize my own reflection. Though this could normally be attributed to misplacing one eyebrow or altogether forgetting to thickly line an eye, it was more unusual than that. I glanced down at the outfit I hastily chose to cover my frame. Everything seemed somehow foreign.



I have one of those personas that inexplicably draws strangers from the shadows to my doorstep. A dear friend of mine, who faces the same phenomenon, explained it far more eloquently as the crowd gathering on her blanket at the park. Never alone on that blanket. I often dismissed it as nothing more than the blissful, if not unintentionally friendly innocence I exude. With each passing year, I became more of an omnipresent sponge placed upon this planet for the sole purpose of absorbing the pain, stress and sorrows of others so they could be freed of those burdens. Many of the bosses I reported to over time took curious notice of the employees who would come from far and wide only to file into my office, one by one, and release.

I do not take my empathetic nature lightly. It is with absolutely zero distaste that I've welcomed the chance to be a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, or even a dummy to punch. When the crowds would thin, I would go searching for those with pain etched across their fragility. Eager and almost desperate to help in some way. It was undoubtedly with a sense of selfishness that I would venture out on these strange journeys as it gave me purpose. Achievement. Worth.


Precisely four times in my life to date, I have made one drastic change or another to lose the weight I've struggled with since childhood. Precisely four times, I was extreme in my actions yet failed to recognize any strides made or change accomplished. Sure, I could later look back and think "My god, I did it!", but only in the rear view mirror and from the depths of a now defeated existence. The funny thing that occurred to me this morning was that it was never at my "best" when so many were drawn to me. The most remarkable people to touch my life entered when I was low. An odd thing to think that at the times when I wasn't mentally tough enough to pull myself out of a rut let alone another, is the exact moment that task was placed before me. I must have done something right as I was and am still considered the duct tape holding it all together.

I've explained before that physical appearances mean little to me. When it's a natural trait to see right through the shells we inhabit in an effort to get from Point A to B, nothing else much matters. Through the eyes of someone who wishes to possess the skills of an artist, I marvel at human forms and the personas they fancy themselves with, thanks to accessories or style... props or expressions. I enjoy the uniqueness we each exhibit through our own perceived faults. The physical signs illustrating all the wild adventures along the way. And yet I am unforgiving of my own faults and inadequacies.

Seems to me I still find myself in a state of confusion when it comes to who or what I am. What I want to be when I grow up, or even WHERE. Such selfish thoughts prove difficult to work through when you have a family. I should no longer be allowed any real level of narcissism when I am responsible for the lives of others on a scale never before experienced. With a lifetime of exposure to being everything someone else needs me to be in a moment, I find myself ill prepared to be that for more than a moment.

I believe many of my struggles lie in the fact that, as a mental sponge, I never quite learned how to release all the negative glop intoxicating every pore. Many nights, I still watch the minutes tick away unable to erase the pain of another. I pace while interrogating myself on whether I did enough or if more could have been done. There is also a load of tumultuous guilt bubbling inside from those I eventually had to turn away. The ones hellbent on poisoning me for their own gain. The times it became a sort of cruel game.

Looking up at the stranger gazing back at me in this framed and reflective glass, there is still a spark in her greyed eyes. Some hope of making sense of it all and coming to terms with all that is. Back on the grass-lined hill by some sparkly duck pond in my head, my blanket is suddenly empty. Perhaps therein lies the problem?


2 comments:

  1. In my opinion, which I always preface my comments with since I don't like to sound lecturey, there is nothing wrong with introspection.

    I wish more people would stop and examine who they are, who they want to be, where they are now on that map.

    But, instead, they slap a bracelet on that says WWJD and look at that to remind them to be better, to be nicer, to do the right thing.

    So, you see, for me,,, keep on with the stream of consciousness, think about what stops you need your path to take.

    Never stop questioning who you were born being, and how to get that person back

    Awesome work here. Exhausting, as it should be. Mental labor is so much more intensive than physical.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You are absolutely right - all around. I am one of those characters who tends to spend my nights thinking, overthinking, analyzing and overanalyzing. I always strive to be something better than I was the day before. Even when I continually fall short of my goals, I feel there is no option aside from dusting myself off and getting back on that horse. Thank you so much for your feedback as it truly means the world to me! XOXO

    ReplyDelete