Understanding parts of who I am doesn’t mean changing who I am….. in more than one sentence:-}
There is something ultimately self arrogant and self-pitying for me in this whole process that defies me. I am a bit sick of, or rather from it. The desire to change is one thing, but my image of what I thought I wanted to ultimately ‘turn into’, makes me ill to discover. Do I really think I have to measure up to something? Something that is out there outside of me? Do I really think that just being a mortal and doing my best is not enough? Yes, I want to be the best "I", and I mean capital "I", can be. Not some image of perfection that I have assumed through socialization. So, I feel like telling myself, “Get over it, get real”. This is you woman so get on with it.
Be real! Fuck up, get up, and get on with it.
This is easily said, but some yucky truth embedded in this analysis is the whiny voice, ‘poor me, come please, Prince(ss) What-Ever, please save me for I try so hard!”. Pouff, back to the fairytale I am led… "Well, who makes me poorer than me?", I ask of this image I take on. I am weighted by this self-centered image and welcome ideas of empathy, support, caring, and compassion, community, or so I hope…
There goes the discovery of my mental models. They do not charm me, but yet I am attached. Without knowing, I somehow transformed my outward defensiveness towards inward defensiveness about maintaining those ugly things! Oh no, they are part of who I am – Hello Terry, gulp, and that is okay. Acceptance, I ask? Well, trying to murder or disassociate myself from them has not worked well in the past.
I guess, well [actually I] know, that I must give my lovely funky gifted, imperfect soul a break and say hurray for where I am and where I have come and cheers to all the hope, faith, hard work and compassion I can muster in the world on the rest of my journey with us.
Gosh, it is hard to see the ground or the sky from such a self-centered position.
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