My method of writing here on Substack over the past several years often broaches but does not really directly address my personal life. There are reasons for that (many, it dawns on me in the wee hours of the night, you’ll find enumerated in the forthcoming list—oh shit), in addition to just being a somewhat private person and having become more so over the years. Although I often use this space diaretically (ooh I made up another word! What I mean is in the fashion of a diary—but also, in a fun twist of fate—its sister-sounding term “diuretic” somewhat applies as well), it’s not very often (if I recall correctly) that I write here in a way in which I reveal much meat about the details of my life in terms of my own person small ‘s’ self. For one, I don’t often feel to, for another, I don’t often think it’s interesting or helpful to others, and thirdly, I don’t often surmise that it’s important in the scheme of things. Mostly, though, it’s because I don’t want to be found out. I want you to like me, think I’m cool and smart and well-adjusted or some bullshit. I want to protect myself, so I hide.
But, in the name of freedom from the addiction of approval, I’m about to expose myself—and it’s not going to pretty.
So this post might be a bit different from my usual, and I apologize if it’s too diaretical—but this is for me, and it might be one of the most necessary things I ever do to break out of this jail cell we all seem to have locked ourselves in; feel free to scroll on if it’s too…anything; no hard feelings.
But if you’re still here, buckle up, Buttercup. It’s about to get real.
The reason I’m writing this: I have an inclination at the moment to be brave in a way that I’m not always, because I think not revealing my small ‘s’ self sometimes blocks my small ‘s’ self from truly accessing what’s actually kind of great about me, and about life in general—reducing access to Large ‘S’ awareness. It also keeps me separated from other people, who, as a social introvert, I can sometimes find scary, as early on I surmised that I couldn’t always trust people who should be trustworthy, to have my best interests at heart. While I don’t always feel this way, the belief has just sort of permeated. So, fear. Additionally, these things on my list also just feel icky and waste a lot of precious time. I also understand on some level that not revealing true motives, at least to oneself, is not only dishonest, but cheating oneself out of living an authentic life.
I’m somewhat fearfully aware I’m about to find out even more about why I’m sitting here, banging out this post. And as they say in my totally and completely obsessively favorite film of all time, Revolver, (which I’m about 94% sure I have correct here):
“You don’t give because it’s good, you give because it hurts him.”
Meaning that the point, over anything else, is the unmasking of the ego (and that I’m not really doing this to help you, I’m doing it to reveal parts of my ego that don’t ever, under any circumstances, want to be revealed—and disappear). Inducing “head pain” (intense fear of vulnerability) is advised in order to reveal the ego and out it for what it IS—nothing at all—an illusory and imposter self.
The persona/identity, in many ways, is often scar tissue left over from early woundings.
And…
The way I see it, we have to deal with the identity (or at least deleterious aspects of it) in just this way: as scar tissue. We have to identify and isolate it, break it up, detaching it from surrounding tissues and allow it to be reabsorbed and reintegrated and thus, healed.
One of the ways we can do this is, as much as possible, to step out and away from the persona (which I find is quite doable) and look at it as this scar tissue—examine it in the clear light of day—step out of the defenses, the protection, the shell that we’ve built to keep us “safe”. This “protection” is likely not actually protecting us anymore and is more than likely limiting our experience in an unhealthy way. The “safety” we default to is nothing but a prison that prevents us from actually living and experiencing life authentically.
“No one lives, and this pleases Gold.”
—Revolver
Gold, in this mind-blowing film, is the ego.
We may have truly needed these defenses as dependent children, but as adults, we often continue to reenact the protections we no longer need, peeking out at life from behind a barbed wire fence that we think keeps others away and keeps us safe, but that actually just imprisons us.
I’m always interested in leaving the prison, but can easily identify where I throw away the key on the regular.
So.
This post.
What this is: a kind of meditation on “paper”—an observation of the identity in order to become more familiar with its tricks and to be able to drop them more easily and quickly (yes I know, the one “seeing” and “dropping” them is the ego. Still I think it can be helpful to thin the illusion, and perhaps the ego will fall for it under the guise of “self-improvement”. Perhaps).
Addressing personality issues, as Lisa Cairns has pointed out, makes life easier and more enjoyable and sure helps those around you. At the very least.
The problem is often that they’re blind spots. But only because we’re closing our eyes to them in yet another layer of “protection”.
I want to SEE.
What this is not: 1. A humble brag. 2. An attempt to “get to the root” of each of these characteristics. I think that can easily and quickly be done: fear. The root of each is fear. There. Done.
NOTE: I think some of these may be very human errors, and by human I mean wired into our DNA, originating in evolutionary needs (stay with the group or get eaten, etc.). It might also be considered that at least some of these may have been passed down from previous generations. Lisa Cairns also describes a mouse or rat (I don’t remember which) study in which a traumatized rat —or mouse— passes the trauma down for SIX GENERATIONS without any re-traumatizing of the progeny. The implications, if the results can be extrapolated to humans, are vast—just think of the compounding of traumas! Or maybe it’s just me and my own dysfunction. I don’t know.
But let’s continue.
I feel a bit as if I am slowly walking to the gallows…
Alright. As always, this an unplanned discovery, and I’m using the page as my worksheet. I’m more interested in what’s to be discovered than to cover. And perhaps (hopefully, because I don’t want to be seen as overly self-focused—ooh, there’s one for the list!) a broader application might be here that extends beyond myself. Maybe. You let me know.
I can’t honestly tell if publicly publishing this is just something that should be on this list, or if it will actually be an effective way to help detox from the addiction. We’ll see. I consider not publishing it, or publishing it only for paid subscribers. But I see that all of the considering and reconsidering just comes down to fear and more of the desire to protect, to reduce risk, so I push forward.
In all fairness , I want to add (perhaps motivated by another layer of protection) that most of these I’m making significant progress with. Sometimes I just give in to the default-ness of them though, especially when I’m tired, hungry, overwhelmed or otherwise low gas-tanked. which obviously is an instruction in itself: take care of basic needs.
Okay, enough preamble, let’s actually get to the list.
I’m going to try not to go into a ton of explanation here, mainly just identifying.
THE LIST
Not wanting to be seen in a poor light.
Not staying connected to myself (in terms of awareness of myself including psychological or physical state, needs/preferences etc.) There is often an unconscious (and wrong) assumption that I can exclusively pay attention to me or them, not both. This, it seems to me, underlies many of the others.
Forgetting to trust my gut/intuition (see above).
Keeping people at arms length because I’m afraid of disconnecting from myself (which as noted in #2, I often still find I do when around other people). The fact is that if I’m really present, being disliked doesn’t phase me all that much anymore, and I have actually gotten quite good for the most part at boundaries, but the remnants of the fear of not feeling I can set boundaries effectively or express myself still seemingly persists at times.
Forgetting I can be okay with not being okay.
Holing up in my house past the point of needing recharging time because I still run on the MO that I don’t have enough time to recharge.
Thinking I’m not okay as I am and that I need to be more ( or much, much LESS!) A, B or C to be likable or respectable or good or enough or good enough or whatever. Usually originates in comparison.
Devaluing myself to others or myself. Throwing myself under the bus/rolling over and playing dead. Not being respectful of myself/making fun of myself too much etc.
Hearing, in my head, “don’t get too big for your britches!” Ugh. Making myself small as above.
Getting lost in thinking about past or future—lack of presence.
Throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Typically this comes with being discouraged or pissed off and not addressing my feelings or speaking up—or speaking up but out of defense or anger, rather than from curiosity after I’ve addressed my own feelings. May take the form of “F all of it I’m out”.
Forgetting that “this is just how I’m feeling in this moment. I’ll feel better soon.”
Forgetting it’s just joyful to be alive, period—getting wrapped up in my head about anything.
Tricking myself into feeling I am trapped.
Thinking, “I’m right, they’re wrong” and that’s it, rather than realizing everyone has some kind of a valid perspective, even if it’s just that they’re feeling something I’m not aware of and acting out rather than facing their painful feelings.
Acting out rather than facing my painful feelings—usually this comes in the form of distracting myself by going to an addiction such as trying to feel good again without acknowledging my passing but highly uncomfortable feelings, snapping at someone, eating chocolate (or whatever else is nearby), pushing people away etc.
Sometimes putting up with stuff that doesn’t feel okay to me because I’m afraid to make the other person feel uncomfortable which really comes down to me not wanting to feel the feelings of just being totally honest and letting the chips fall and maybe feeling something uncomfortable myself like that I’m unloving or intolerant or judgmental (while I mercilessly judge myself, lol). Which really just comes down to, at least in that instance, my unwillingness to value myself over risking losing some kind of superficial relationship that in my twisted filter probably equals a dysfunctional parental (not) love.
Defaulting to “No one can be trusted, I must do it all myself.”
Projecting myself onto others, whether that be positive or negative qualities—not being in Reality.
Getting stuck in a thinking rut such as, “How will I ever A, B, C????”
Overvaluing accomplishment as evidence of worth.
Thinking I should be “perfect” (meaning living up to some idea I have of how I see optimal performance, behavior, thinking etc.)
Thinking I should ESPECIALLY be a perfect parent. Example: performing nearly nightly post-mortem on my parenting, feeling despair and that I’ve failed and vowing to do better the next day. It should be noted that my “infractions” here are typically really stupidly very small, though I sometimes miss the mark for sure. I want to make it clear I do not berate, beat, spank or abuse my daughter in any way!!
I’m certain there are more. In fact I could probably go on all night and continue to detail ever more subtle forms of all these and more. But that would be just an example of 9, and exhausting for all of us. I’m already unsure if this list is useful or merely self-flagellation and indeed, simply #9. You know what fear comes up? Don’t reveal your weaknesses, people will use them to manipulate you. It’s starting—the head pain is being induced.
**At this point I leave this post for the morning because my eyes are burning and tired, but most of all because I am beginning to indeed feel a terrifying sense of dread. “Best maybe not to push publish for reals” I begin to think.**
Then I wake up in the middle of the night (hot flash!) and really begin to feel it: head pain. Not an actual headache, but this feeling of OMG I’m way too vulnerable here. SHUT IT DOWN. I am in a state of abject fear exactly resembling the one Jake Green experiences (in Revolver), standing over Dorothy’s bed. I realize that underneath everything is a sense of intense shame.
Intense shame.
What if people don’t think I’m special?? What if I look either insane, disordered, too normal or boring?
Not wanting to be pitied or seen as victimy or less-than and give people a reason to feel superior over me—often avoiding real vulnerability like the plague.
Wanting to feel special.
Protecting the investment.
Which, I begin to realize, is exactly the point of this post—to risk it all and divest by divulging.
There is something about yourself that you don't know. Something that you will deny even exists until it's too late to do anything about it. It's the only reason you get up in the morning, the only reason you suffer the shitty boss, the blood, the sweat and the tears. This is because you want people to know how good, attractive, generous, funny, wild and clever you really are. "Fear or revere me, but please think I'm special." We share an addiction. We're approval junkies. We're all in it for the slap on the back and the gold watch. The "hip, hip, hoo-fucking-rah." Look at the clever boy with the badge, polishing his trophy. Shine on, you crazy diamond. Cuz we're just monkeys wrapped in suits, begging for the approval of others.
—Revolver
THIS is the why of this post—it’s why I’m up at 3:30 am, sweating in fear. And I realize suddenly that what I’m experiencing are detox symptoms. Painful as it is, I’m hell-bent on getting this monkey off my back.
And it’s working.
Oh, I know you're still there... cause I can feel you dying. I can hear you tapping me... for a little nutrition. Now who's looking for a fix? It gets a little tight in here, do you? Well, you're not wrong... cause the walls are moving in. No food here. Not today, sunshine. My eyes are open and the restaurant's closed. Jog on. Slide off. Find someone else to fill your pipe. Someone, who won't see you coming... or know, when you're there.
—Revolver
It’s at this point that the everything begins to settle down inside of me. I can SEE it, this THING, struggling, twisting and turning, squirming under the microscope. And at least right now, it’s not running me and I feel a glassy calm. Which doesn’t last. A wave of medium panic hits me as I sit peeing on the toilet. I decide not to hit publish, that this list is just for me, and not necessary or even beneficial in any way to anyone else. I’ll just keep it to myself.
I go back to bed, read awhile (synchronistically and completely unplanned, a short story about a woman conquering fear). I feel better. Her willingness to reveal her fear and insecurity makes me see that this is all more okay somehow. I turn off the light, still thinking that perhaps I really don’t need to hit publish, but that hopefully I’ll go back to sleep and see how I feel in the morning.
But as I lay there I realize something profound: that for all my fear of people not being trustworthy, which underlies most of my dysfunction and desire to hide and protect myself, by not revealing myself, I am actually making MYSELF the untrustworthy one, both for myself and others!
I suddenly remember I’ve forgotten to turn off the wifi, and this is the perfect opportunity to get up, walk to my laptop, and pull the trigger.
WeLLLLL...
WisHeS🐚
(~&~ ; )
WhimSY🎈
WhATeVeR
WhiSP~ersSs🎋
~&~
C0L0UrsSs🎨
my PAL~eTTe🖌️
DAnDeLi0nsSs
D0LPhinsSs🐬
DeAr💖'sSs
PHAnTASMiC
FL0W🌺ersSs
SH0W~ersSs
BuTTer🦋FLiesSs
TrEEsSs🌳
M00nsSs🌕
STArsSs💫
WATeRY~WAYsSs🌊
S000✨MANY✨ThANGS!!!
: ) : ) : ) : ) : ) : )~
PS
i *D0N'T* D0 DrUGS...
i SiMPLY
💟L0000000Ve
***P0eTiC***
🔥FLARe🔥
+
Y0U FeeL
LiKe A SeLKE
T0 mE
ChRiSTY❣️
SmiLinG,
~wiLL0wEE~
PS~ssT...
Y0Ur *LiST💥
iS B00K📚W0rThY‼️
TrULY🍀
🧝~wiLL0w~🎈
(JUST SAYin' : )