I learned a very important lesson today. I have been told by a reliable source that my writing is "pastel leaves". It is flowery and not straight forward. This is true. I have been harboring some deep anger and chaotic sadness. These emotions were not only hidden in my writing, but I have hid them from myself. Until today, I have not acknowledged these feelings for years. The truth is, I'm confused, angry and lost. I have not forgiven myself for running away from an intimate relationship and a responsibility. I have a fear of intimacy mainly because I use negative expectations to shield myself from scary social situations. This is a big step for me. It isn't that I haven't been honest on my blog. It is more the fact that not even I wanted to deal with these emotions and that showed in my writing. Currently, I'm grateful for what I have. While driving home today, I really thought about the decisions I have made and what I have done to deal with myself. The truth is, I haven't been willing to deal with myself. Unfortunately, this frustration can be projected on the people I am around. I find myself jealous of the type of person who walks through life with a happy perspective. Not only that, but I envy those who pursue their dreams and live them currently. I also become quite frustrated that I have not achieved any of this. Sure, by going to college I am working toward my dreams to become an author, but I'm still not doing things that make me happy. Mainly, I'm talking about singing. I miss singing so much that I build up negative criticisms of my singing voice. This horrible habit is a coping mechanism I have used for years.
I used to tell myself that having these issues was a sign of failure. By not being able to deal with situations, I had no right to live them. A boyfriend, for example, or a career involved in singing. Here's the trick though, I love reading about relationships and I admire characters who pursue their dreams. (AKA My love of Disney is based on this exact practice of observing life). So the bottom line of me not dealing with myself is actually simple. I have hidden behind a wall of negativity. This wall has been mentioned before and can be viewed as yet another bad coping mechanism.
The point is, I build all the negative outcomes of one situation in my head, and these outcomes are either proven to be true, or I am shocked by something positive happening to me. So I had a long talk with my mother on the phone today about why I do this. There are many answers to this question. Fear is a big motivator, but pain can also be an important tool. I mix these two elements together and completely warp the actual events or even the real world. So, this is the truth. Just by writing this down I feel like I have achieved a small step in the right direction. So the truth is, when I'm smiling or laughing and it doesn't reach my eyes, or if I look away when I'm in a situation, I am afraid and defensive. I'm also possibly angry and maybe even jealous of the people around me.
Years ago I would have never been able to admit this. You could say it's negative, but I also have a different perspective. Usually when someone is jealous, they can see themselves in whatever situation they are jealous of. So even if I told myself I don't deserve a boyfriend or a singing career, a small part of me does believe that I can achieve it. That alone gives me hope. A vicious cycle of negativity is incredibly hard to break, especially when you are your own source of misery. But, with the right attitude and an open mind, maybe I could make that small part of me, who sees this as a possibility, grow stronger and more powerful until I actually get what I truly want. Once that part gets stronger, I will be able to deal with who I am and the decisions I have made. So, there's the truth. It's not pretty, but it is useful. Do I accept this? Yes and no. I acknowledge these issues, but I still can't forgive myself. I write this, hoping that one day, I will. And more importantly, by doing so I will finally feel like I am living and not just surviving.
