Letter to self #6

It's the first letter in 2013. Should I say I'm off to a start? It's a little rumination this time, without a sense of depression, that I suppose makes the difference in this particular letter. I make certain observations about myself most times, but I also do think I'm good at ignoring observations I don't want to see or be aware of. Someone recently asked me, "When reflecting about yourself, what makes you feel restless? Is your real self really that boring?"

I don't think it is, so I tried to go beyond that point where I start to want to wander off. Do things instead of think, instead of ruminate. I noted to myself today that if seasons were temperaments, what would I be? I think a lot of people would say I'm summer-ish. I thought I was summer-ish too. Full of activity and buzz, never quieting down...passionate, but sometimes brash and impulsive. I have a hot temper to boot, though no one seems to believe me.

But the times I really sit down and be with myself, and look into myself, this image isn't the one that comes up. Many people say I'm interesting or funny. I don't think I am. I'm actually quite serious, especially at work. I have certain beliefs and principles I want to uphold, sometimes no matter the cost. I take my work seriously, and I'm hard on myself when I fail to meet expectations, be they my own or others'. Most times, I take others seriously, but not in the humourless way. By seriously, I mean I believe what people say and do. I think this is partly tied to my naiveté. Some people may think it's foolish. Some may tell me it's outright stupid. But I choose to believe and trust others. I don't see how people can gain by tricking or deceiving me (this is excluding dangerous/threatening situations of course) except for the occasional entertainment value. If someone gets a kick from playing tricks on me...well, nothing 'cept my ego is harmed, and well, my ego can take a battering or two. This also means I take their words for more than their face value, so a lot of times, I found myself getting more than slightly pricked when they say certain things regarding my self. After enough pricks, I developed something of a guard regarding people's words, and turn their words into jokes, and bat myself over the head with it. This way, it becomes less of what they say about me than how I poke fun of myself. Since then, I've found that I'm more or less able to take whatever people have to throw at me. Not that a lot of people do that.

A true measure of how serious I originally am (in my head anyway) is in the way I see myself. I know I just said I portrayed myself as a joke sometimes to other people, and I appear positive (I AM positive) in many ways. I do however take myself quite seriously. Whenever I sit down to myself, I find my thoughts wandering to the mistakes I've made, the things I've said or done wrong, or things I thought I could have done better. No, this is not a typical beat-myself-up...rather, in the darkness of it all, I'm more able to find myself. I struggle a lot of course. One's self-esteem isn't exactly made to take regular beatings like this without a scratch. More often than not, I find myself sinking into the negative thoughts faster than I can dig myself up. And yes, it has filled me with doubt, despair...sometimes an intense dislike for myself. And yes, there are times where I wondered if a more useless or pathetic person could ever exist. I ponder about the things I say, wondering if I really meant to say them (most of the time, I do, simply on the basis I can't process my thoughts fast enough to lie). I often joke a lot, but I do it seriously, often slipping real feelings and thoughts into the jokes. I have a lot of fun, but I do it seriously, in the sense that I make sure nothing is interfering with my fun time. In a lot of ways, I do everything at 100% if I can help it.

So when I ponder about myself, many times, I started seeing myself in a light I didn't like. The parts I didn't want to admit to, fears I didn't want to say existed, insecurities I tried to ignore. I brush them aside, turn away from myself and look outwards. When I do that, I can run away from myself. By immersing myself with other people, I can look away from inside of me. I can take a lot of hurt, but it isn't because I'm strong. I think I take a lot of hurt, because sometimes I feel that I'm not that much of a worthwhile person, so taking some hurt shouldn't matter as much to me. It's a distorted way of thinking about oneself, yes...and I was made to realise it. Remember that time when someone told me "You really don't like yourself, do you?"? That was a real eye-opener.

It made me think deeply. I ask myself over and over again, "What do I really want?" While I haven't been able to separate thinking for others from thinking about my own needs, I like to think that there is a slight difference now. I used to be afraid of what people say about me. I think I still am. I used to really, really want people to like me. I still do, of course. It's only natural. But I've started thinking less about how to carry myself and just...carry myself, if that explains anything.

When I'm with people, I act like an overcharged battery. I'm bursting with energy and excitement and laughter. For some people, it's energising. For some people, as I so readily know, it can be terribly exhausting. It's a little complicated, but inherently, I try to avoid being alone, because a part of me is afraid that when I am alone, I would become the total opposite - sad, depressed, without energy or passion for anything. But certain circumstances in the last few months have forced me to be alone, or moved me away from surrounding myself with external sources of energy. And I had to look inside. A little digression at this point. Have you had the feeling that looking at the moon gives you this strange, sad feeling, but at the same time, it's very beautiful and serene? I get that every time I look at the moon. Like the autumn season, the moon has a special meaning to me, because every time I look up and stare at the moon, a very specific feeling wells up in me. It's a feeling of wonder, and beauty and mystery...but there is also a little solitude and sublime sadness. I get a sense of emptiness when I stare at the moon, but I also feel very content with that emptiness. When I look at the moon, I sometimes get the feeling that I am alone, but I feel all right to be alone in that moment.

Lately, when I look inside, I see the moon inside. I can see the parts of me that make me miserable, that make me sad, and make me want to run away. Then I stop, and I think about the moon. What is it about myself that makes me miserable and sad? What don't I like about myself? Why can't I be content with that part of myself? I've started asking those questions...and to my surprise, I sometimes find that I can actually be content with having certain parts of myself. I know that certain parts of myself fill me with a sense of solitude, perhaps even a little emptiness...but there are times I am able to accept that solitude. I've come to be able to admit to myself that yes, I feel lonely, and it's all right to feel lonely. I've come to be able to say to myself that I don't like this person, or I was really hurt by something that was said or done to me in the past. It doesn't always work, and I usually feel bad the first few times I try. But I've been practicing, so here's to hoping for a deeper self-reflection.

So really, at my core, I really do think I'm more autumn, because the point where I feel most connected to myself is when I sink into the growing darkness. It's at that time, when I feel the creeping cold, that I feel most deeply, spiritually connected with who I am, and I find that with every step I take into the darkness, the closer I move to the light of who I am. I am at my most contemplative, most vulnerable...and I have the most potential for transformation in those moments, to find ways to better understand myself, and be a better person. I have my fair share of trial by fire, and I do think I do quite well in those trials, but I think I forget that there are different kinds of trials, and these moments of lingering between the light and the dark are important reminders of the things I have yet to face within.