I had plans for a different kind of post today. But those plans were waylaid. I thought I would write last night, but last night's attempts at writing yielded nothing but a bunch of incoherent and self-indulgent twaddle. I had plans for today and already the plans have fallen apart and I want nothing more than to crawl into a hole (or perhaps my shoe closet) and hide from the world. And yet, I need to sort out the raging turmoil in my head. Self-indulgent I may be, but the words go on.
I had thought that I was finally growing up, that I was getting a grip on the world and who I was in that world. I thought I was finally accepting who I am, what I think, what I like, and why I like the things I like and think the thoughts I think. After a couple of really hard years I had decided that I made too many decisions in my life based on what other people wanted me to be, or what I perceived other people wanted me to be. In the midst of all the madness and upset and unhappiness that was the last few years I found that I didn’t know who I was, and I suspected that everything I thought was me was actually a mask, my trying to be something other than my full self to please someone else whom I wanted to please, to make peace, to bridge the differences, to avoid conflict.
Eventually I realized that I couldn’t be that person anymore, whoever that person was, and in that realization I started, just started mind you, realizing what I actually liked. I also realized that this “I” had always been there, but I hadn’t always let her out, keeping her locked up deep inside, protected from the world, so protected in fact, that there were times when I forgot where I put her. And I wondered why, as I approached 50, I was still coming to terms with adolescent angst and self-doubt. I guess I have always been a late bloomer.
So I have been rediscovering myself, and feeling stronger and more certain in that discovery. But there was something I forgot to take into consideration and that was how the people I love would react to my newfound strength and certainty. I assumed, obviously naively, that if I figured out who I was everything would be easier and happier. I did not consider fully. It is one of my faults, my avoidance of conflict, my wish to apologize or forgive bad behavior, my steadfast belief that if everyone tries we can all get along. Deep in my heart I continue to believe this even as I also feel that the world is a chaotic unpredictable place and that people are not all nice and you cannot predict how anyone will react to anything. I want the place called home to be a bubble of peace in a chaotic world. And this is where things fall apart.
What happens if that home is built on the shifting sands of doubt rather than the rock of conviction? If I spent so much of my life modifying my feelings and thoughts to please others, why did I think they would be happy with who or what I really am? And did I believe that being myself would avoid conflict, when for years I avoided conflict by modifying my own thoughts to fit in with those around me? For years I would never say if I really liked or disliked something because I was afraid someone would disagree. Well that was silly of me, and I recognize that it was silly. So I started writing about things I like or dislike here, starting with concerts, in a place cut-off from my physical life. But what I failed to consider is that once I became comfortable with having opinions, I might actually express these same opinions in my real life, not just here in the disconnected part of my life that is cyberspace.
Apparently, like everything else in my life, I jumped right in without considering the consequences and now the dye has been cast. I can’t go back to being the person I was (or wasn’t fully) but I am not sure I like all the consequences of being myself either. And so it appears I have backed myself into a corner. I want my opinions but I hate discord. It seems I can’t have one without the other.
My newfound independence of mind has come at a time of great personal turmoil. My partner found himself ill, retired, and unprepared for either. Before, his world was a simple place; there was Right and there was Wrong with precious little in between. He saw himself firmly on the side of Right: right beliefs, right thoughts, and right taste. He always thought I would grow up to join him in the wisdom of the Right, and he forgave my differences of opinion as youthful frivolities; and I, I continued to let him believe this, as I constantly readjusted my thoughts and feelings to better fit his expectations.
Where once I modified my opinions in the interest of peace, I found that I could no longer do so if so doing meant I had to sublimate who I am. I have always seen the world as mostly gray, and I am learning to accept that just because the world is gray does not mean that I am not allowed to have opinions about that world. Whether these opinions are right or wrong is not as important as the fact that they are mine.
And so occasionally we have a meeting of the waters of sorts, like the waters of the Amazon dumping into the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, swirling around each other, but not always coming together into one. I suppose I have to accept that a gray world sometimes has its share of thunderstorms. I love to sit out and watch a thunderstorm roll across the sky. I wonder why I abhor them in my personal life?
But after the thunder and the lightning comes the rain.
Comments
2 responses to “Self-indulgent twaddle”
What you call self indulgent twaddle I call a very compelling read and I would label it a “self reflective and honest introspection”. I so relate to your post and feel as if you said so many things that are true for me. The questions you pose and the discoveries you made in this, my favorite of your posts, has expanded the questions I am asking of myself. Thank you.
xo
I agree with La Belette entirely. I often wonder if I am a throwback to an earlier less ‘liberated’ generation of women when I see and hear other women, and especially younger women being very outspoken about their views, ideas, needs, etc. I find myself wondering if they’re happy, or if there’s a lot of conflict and unsettledness in their lives. Perhaps they’re happier and more secure if they’re not hiding parts of themselves. Or perhaps they’re creating conflict for themselves, which is not a bad thing I suppose if there’s a real purpose behind it. I don’t know, I don’t like confrontation, and perhaps I go too far to avoid it, but that’s part of me too I suppose. Very interesting read. Thank you.