This is the second of the two blog posts I promised I would write. The first was about writer's block and, on a greater level, about self-sabotage. This post is mainly a reflection on how I choose the perspectives in view points that I do. Not only how I choose them, but also how I choose to respond to and share these perspectives. I actually started with an earlier draft, but amidst the business and distractions of my day, the post remained frozen and untouchable on my app. I cannot access it through the main site. Really, the post is a phantom and in some ways reflective of myself.
Like my phantom post, I tend to remain in an unedited and unpublished state when it comes to self-expression. The thoughts are there, at times they even escape my mouth. But only when no one is looking. Once the expectation of an audience is present, my thoughts return to the safety of my mind, and my actions resume their automatic programmed status. The automation of my actions are wired to the expectations of my environment. In the event thay I am either unsure or unaware of what is expected, I simply numb and quiet myself. Silently hoping that I am both seen and unnoticed.
I have dubbed myself a walking paradox. This label I gave myself at some point in high school. I accepted this label upon learning the definitions of "oxymoron" and "paradox". I knew even in my immature teenage years that my actions and my thoughts were often juxtapositioned. The words I say to myself and those I express out loud would be on either sides of the debate. I never was a stand for what I truly believed. Only for what I thought others believed of me.
I also labeled myself a myriad of obscenities as my age became more advanced. I was two-faced, fake, dishonest, disloyal, unworthy, untrustworthy, and a plethora of others that I either chose not to remember or am to ashamed to write on this public platform. This is probably the most intimate anyone will get.That last statement was a lie.
As far as perspectives go, I was either perceived to be a "good girl" by other adults or something else by my parents. I suppose I wanted my parents to approve me the same way outsiders did. That desire for approval was my driving force for the past 23 years of my life. As I grew older and less appealing, the stronger the desire to please grew. I lost myself in it. The more I wanted it, the less I received it. The easier it became to find reasons to foster a paradoxical relationship with them.
It appears that I may have strayed from the central point about my perspectives. The central point is I became a willing robot. An eager to please one. Whatever a person wanted me to be, I would pretend and be just that. My opinions were few(though in fact they were many) and my compliance was easy. As I advanced in my development however, this became an issue. This desire to please and be seen and liked and gain approval. It tore me apart in my friendships and romantic endeavors. It did nothing to repair or augment my relationship with my parents. If anything, acting on my growing desire to be the star jester only created room for hostility and resentment. Hence, the prior post on self-sabotage. Hence, why I find every excuse for failure(though I really cannot stand to fail).
With this unreciprocated desire to please everyone(including myself) without any clear commitment to actually forming solid relationships with anyone, I was bound to go mad. Really. Fortunately, I did find one safe space to pour out my most honest and raw perspectives on life. This was through my writing. I still have trouble actually vocalizing my opinions. It really baffles me. The thoughts are there, the words are there, and in front of an invisible audience, even the voice and projection are there. But when I am placed in front of live humans with advanced cognition, humans with opinions of their own, humans who are bold with their expressions and clear about their perspectives----when I am placed in front of such an audience, my brain goes back to the automatic. It becomes harder for me to say what I want, instead I merely become an echo. When I do say what it is that I think I want to say, it feels wrong somehow. The words used become the model of poor vocabulary. I suddenly realize that my volume has only one setting:low. My mouth cannot open wide enough to let the words out. I am almost mute.
Even as I write, when my writing is public, I find ways to bury myself in my words. My perspectives become my own illusions. Though I like to say that perspective shapes reality. It does. The perspective I hold of being inadequate unless an authority figure tells me that I am good enough has shaped the reality of my constant need for acknowledgement and approval. My perspective that my opinions sound way better in my mind have shaped the frustrating reality of my voice not being heard. The perspective that I must be punished for events that I experienced as a child(a sure sign that part of my psychological development is incomplete) has created the reality of a cycle of self-sabotage.
I know I am not the only person or creature on this planet who experiences bouts of inadequacy. I know I am not the only one who chooses to use self-talk as a mechanism to keep silent. I know I am not the only one who is aware of all this and still chooses the same unsupportive and backward behavior. I am probably not even the first to write about it from a personal perspective.
But these are my words. My thoughts. For once, I can safely publically expose myself for all to see. To that, I can almost say I am courageous. Almost, because I use written jargon to conceal my emotions. For me, the truest act of courage would be for me to share my songs, for they would require me to physically use my voice. For me, the truest act of courage would be for me to glimpse back at my past and rewrite my story so that it no longer haunts me. For me, the truest act of courage would be for me to not only admit that I am a scared little girl (everyone who knows me can see that it is my favorite act), but to allow myself to grow into the warrior goddess that is also me.
This is only a step in my journey. I will not overlook the layers I have peeled in my private to at least come here on a public platform and lay out the insecurities that I experience. I will not ignore the fact that although I put on a show and then try to hide, there are multiple teams of people who fight by my side until I show the real me. I will express gratitude for my amazing friends. The ones who have seen me at my worst and stuck around anyway. The ones who call me out whenever I put on one of my charades. The ones from whom I can never hide no matter how far I go or how hard I try.
My perspectives are not all destructive. I hold the view that every individual has the capacity to connect with their higher self. I hold the perspective that each individual has the power to create their reality and also shape the reality and perspectives others. I hold the perspective that underneath the identity labels and groups we create, we are all beautifully unique creatures with our own gifts to offer. It all sounds naive, but I am also a realist. I understand that as individuals, we at times need the collective identity to survive. I understand that although everyone has the CAPACITY to tap into their higher selves, not everyone will have the desire or motivation to do so. I understand that rules and laws keep societies strong. I also understand that attachment to these same rules and laws can lead to chaos and societal decay. This is especially true when adherence and enforcement comes without understanding.
I once read a passage in which the writer stated "Know thyself". To me, this is one of the greatest truths that continually shape and reshape my overall perception on life and the story of my existence.
Like my phantom post, I tend to remain in an unedited and unpublished state when it comes to self-expression. The thoughts are there, at times they even escape my mouth. But only when no one is looking. Once the expectation of an audience is present, my thoughts return to the safety of my mind, and my actions resume their automatic programmed status. The automation of my actions are wired to the expectations of my environment. In the event thay I am either unsure or unaware of what is expected, I simply numb and quiet myself. Silently hoping that I am both seen and unnoticed.
I have dubbed myself a walking paradox. This label I gave myself at some point in high school. I accepted this label upon learning the definitions of "oxymoron" and "paradox". I knew even in my immature teenage years that my actions and my thoughts were often juxtapositioned. The words I say to myself and those I express out loud would be on either sides of the debate. I never was a stand for what I truly believed. Only for what I thought others believed of me.
I also labeled myself a myriad of obscenities as my age became more advanced. I was two-faced, fake, dishonest, disloyal, unworthy, untrustworthy, and a plethora of others that I either chose not to remember or am to ashamed to write on this public platform. This is probably the most intimate anyone will get.That last statement was a lie.
As far as perspectives go, I was either perceived to be a "good girl" by other adults or something else by my parents. I suppose I wanted my parents to approve me the same way outsiders did. That desire for approval was my driving force for the past 23 years of my life. As I grew older and less appealing, the stronger the desire to please grew. I lost myself in it. The more I wanted it, the less I received it. The easier it became to find reasons to foster a paradoxical relationship with them.
It appears that I may have strayed from the central point about my perspectives. The central point is I became a willing robot. An eager to please one. Whatever a person wanted me to be, I would pretend and be just that. My opinions were few(though in fact they were many) and my compliance was easy. As I advanced in my development however, this became an issue. This desire to please and be seen and liked and gain approval. It tore me apart in my friendships and romantic endeavors. It did nothing to repair or augment my relationship with my parents. If anything, acting on my growing desire to be the star jester only created room for hostility and resentment. Hence, the prior post on self-sabotage. Hence, why I find every excuse for failure(though I really cannot stand to fail).
With this unreciprocated desire to please everyone(including myself) without any clear commitment to actually forming solid relationships with anyone, I was bound to go mad. Really. Fortunately, I did find one safe space to pour out my most honest and raw perspectives on life. This was through my writing. I still have trouble actually vocalizing my opinions. It really baffles me. The thoughts are there, the words are there, and in front of an invisible audience, even the voice and projection are there. But when I am placed in front of live humans with advanced cognition, humans with opinions of their own, humans who are bold with their expressions and clear about their perspectives----when I am placed in front of such an audience, my brain goes back to the automatic. It becomes harder for me to say what I want, instead I merely become an echo. When I do say what it is that I think I want to say, it feels wrong somehow. The words used become the model of poor vocabulary. I suddenly realize that my volume has only one setting:low. My mouth cannot open wide enough to let the words out. I am almost mute.
Even as I write, when my writing is public, I find ways to bury myself in my words. My perspectives become my own illusions. Though I like to say that perspective shapes reality. It does. The perspective I hold of being inadequate unless an authority figure tells me that I am good enough has shaped the reality of my constant need for acknowledgement and approval. My perspective that my opinions sound way better in my mind have shaped the frustrating reality of my voice not being heard. The perspective that I must be punished for events that I experienced as a child(a sure sign that part of my psychological development is incomplete) has created the reality of a cycle of self-sabotage.
I know I am not the only person or creature on this planet who experiences bouts of inadequacy. I know I am not the only one who chooses to use self-talk as a mechanism to keep silent. I know I am not the only one who is aware of all this and still chooses the same unsupportive and backward behavior. I am probably not even the first to write about it from a personal perspective.
But these are my words. My thoughts. For once, I can safely publically expose myself for all to see. To that, I can almost say I am courageous. Almost, because I use written jargon to conceal my emotions. For me, the truest act of courage would be for me to share my songs, for they would require me to physically use my voice. For me, the truest act of courage would be for me to glimpse back at my past and rewrite my story so that it no longer haunts me. For me, the truest act of courage would be for me to not only admit that I am a scared little girl (everyone who knows me can see that it is my favorite act), but to allow myself to grow into the warrior goddess that is also me.
This is only a step in my journey. I will not overlook the layers I have peeled in my private to at least come here on a public platform and lay out the insecurities that I experience. I will not ignore the fact that although I put on a show and then try to hide, there are multiple teams of people who fight by my side until I show the real me. I will express gratitude for my amazing friends. The ones who have seen me at my worst and stuck around anyway. The ones who call me out whenever I put on one of my charades. The ones from whom I can never hide no matter how far I go or how hard I try.
My perspectives are not all destructive. I hold the view that every individual has the capacity to connect with their higher self. I hold the perspective that each individual has the power to create their reality and also shape the reality and perspectives others. I hold the perspective that underneath the identity labels and groups we create, we are all beautifully unique creatures with our own gifts to offer. It all sounds naive, but I am also a realist. I understand that as individuals, we at times need the collective identity to survive. I understand that although everyone has the CAPACITY to tap into their higher selves, not everyone will have the desire or motivation to do so. I understand that rules and laws keep societies strong. I also understand that attachment to these same rules and laws can lead to chaos and societal decay. This is especially true when adherence and enforcement comes without understanding.
I once read a passage in which the writer stated "Know thyself". To me, this is one of the greatest truths that continually shape and reshape my overall perception on life and the story of my existence.
