I’ve barely slept for the last three nights. Here’s what’s eating at me right now:
What if my fear of disappointing others, of being the subject of ostracism, of being anything other than what was moral and socially expected kept me from acknowledging who I am?
20-30 years ago was a different time. Still, I’m kicking myself so hard for not being able to acknowledge it and enjoy it and for not being able to tell people how I feel about them. It is important to love all of yourself, not just the convenient parts.
I recognize what I did to myself as repression. And as I sit with the memories and exposed truths it is shocking to me how much I forced away and refused to ever examine. How is it possible to disregard an aspect of yourself so completely? With evidence pushed in my face. With desires present. I’m baffled.
It makes me want to scream. Wish I could just get it out.
Writing my previous post brought to light how much resistance affects how we perceive ourselves and how we behave. Of course it affects different people differently. I’m clearly a super sensitive person and apparently very susceptible to it. I used to think of resistance as a spiritual only concept. Like, “You’re resisting this connection to the universe and it is holding you back.” And now… Now I see resistance as a “real life” issue. It is the precursor to repression. It is a warning sign. If you’re stifling emotions, fighting to not deal with them, that should be a clue that something is fucking wrong in your life. I’m so angry that I let myself do that. I don’t want you to, either.
Maybe if I keep putting my own turmoil out there for you to read, you’ll be more compassionate towards yourself and towards others. That’s a good hope, right? It helps me to write it down, anyways.
I should make these heavy posts more fun to read. Fuckballs. By the way, remember how I bashed psychoanalysis? Repression is a concept based on psychoanalytic theory. Oops.