new year, new page ...
I’ve spent a large part of my life trying to be nice ... placating people, soothing situations, the peacekeeper and the one who keeps her mouth shut.
I’ve bitten my lip so often over the course of my existence that there are, I think, permanent indentations in my full lower lip (just mentioning my lip because while I have a (in today’s world, an unpopular) small mouth, I think my lower lip is sorta pouty and sexy, just saying).
I have spent a very large part of my waking moments NOT saying what I think, not expressing my perspective nor venturing my opinion; in large part, I think, because I knew full well my opinion doesn’t count for a whole lot in the scheme of things to the people who purport to care about me.
And there truly is nothing quite so devastating as opening your mouth and hearing the words come out and the ears for which they are meant are not hearing them....
My emancipation from the shackles of my own prison is ongoing and a work in progress.
I think too a lot of individuals who “know” me would laugh at the thought I am reticent or in any way, a peacekeeper - as fighting battles is something I do extremely well - but then, if they really looked at things, they would realize, those battles I fight are inevitably for OTHER people.
The reality is, I cannot STAND to be helpless nor can I tolerate being helped.
I literally go into a frenzy at the thought of needing something from someone and find it almost impossible to accept even the most simplistic offer of assistance.
I am fiercely independent in just about any way you might imagine – financially, physically, mentally ... and have been for as long as I can remember.
It is one reason I obsess over staying healthy. As I am a type 2 diabetic, I am fanatical (or have been in the past) about dealing with the disease in a way which will retard its progress as much as possible. Only recently, I recognized some very bad choices I made over the past year which seriously impacted the course of the disease were fuelled by rage and a despair so implacable it was almost suicidal in nature.
And the result is I have now spilled over the line into serious territory insofar as my blood sugar is concerned.
I’m now committed to trying to undo – or at least slow down – the damage I’ve inflicted on my body over the past year of hell. Which means back to the gym, back to healthy eating, back to testing. I don’t fool myself that the path will be smooth or in any way easy – I’ve been down this path before and there is a certain part of me that scoffs at the thought of doing it yet again and doubts my ability to complete the course.
When I watched my father die from complications of Type 2 diabetes 6 years ago, I swore I would NEVER be in a position of helplessness like him – EVER – and my will has never wavered for ONE second in that regard – I would far rather be dead. So I need to refocus and ensure I don’t end up in the position of seeing if I really mean that (and I know I do).
But in my life anyway, the ties between the physical, the emotional, the spiritual and yes, the mental balance are so entwined and co-dependent that one thread can’t be pulled without a resulting vibration along the tenuous lines of other self .. (god, now I sound like I hear voices – hell, I do, all day, every day, but I’m really usually very good about drowning them out (NOTE: THAT IS SARCASM incidentally)).
The bottom line is I have a lot of reassessing to do ... a lot of naval-gazing and decision-making to tackle ... because terrible experiences from the past five years have left an indelible and profound impact on who I thought selkie was ... have changed to the core my awareness of self and shaken to pieces what I thought was a solid and very real foundation of belief.
and one of the changes is I’m not biting my lip anymore.
And another change is I’m working damn hard at accepting I don’t believe in a damn thing anymore, not in god, not in memories I thought real, not in truths I thought unwavering and I know now were lies.
And seeing where that takes me from here...