This is going to sound really sick – and I don’t mean in the popular, current, slang sense of the word of "really good" –where did that come from, anyway? – it’s crazy! I mean it will sound warped, unhealthy and abnormal. So what else is new – right? Just business as usual – another day on the funny farm – status quo for all of us misfits.
I am really conflicted about getting “better.” I already posted about being afraid that I will change too much and not know myself or be myself or lose part of myself that is an important part of my identity. Not that it is an immediate danger – (LOL!!!) - but it does inhibit me from moving ahead as whole-heartedly as I would like to think that I might do otherwise.
I have always had a love-hate feeling towards the majority – feeling different and wanting to be like everybody else – but also a horror of being assimilated and indistinguishable from everybody else. I always knew I was alienated and wanted to be accepted – but also thought I was different in a special way and didn’t want to give up that distinction. Maybe it is a perverse sort of reverse pride – taking comfort in the very thing that makes me wounded, damaged and isolated. cherishing the very thing that is the source of the hurt – refusing to let the bullet be extracted or the poison purged or the cancer cut out. It seems like part of ME. So I cling to it desperately like a drowning man clutching at insubstantial flotsam. (terrible mixed metaphor!)
One of the reasons for this fear, I now am starting to realize – is that if I am “well” I will no longer have an excuse for the quirks and flaws and weaknesses that I have allowed myself to live with. I am afraid that I will be “expected” to behave and cope and carry on just like anybody else. It was easier to have that one-size-fits-all rationalization to let myself off the hook. (And I HATE expectations!) That tendency to make allowances for myself can sabotage my progress.
I think I am ready to admit that the fear is a false one. I will NEVER change that much. I have gone so far as to say – “If I didn’t have scars, I would not have a face!” The history of abuse is all a part of me – and cannot be so totally overcome that it will be reversed or undone or forgotten. I am who I am – scars and all. I can accept that – and try to do so without excuses or apologies or denial or overcompensation or pretense. That fear is no longer going to hold me back. I am going to keep pushing on. Not without anxiety, though… I am sure there will always be something to fear. That, too, is part of who I am.
As my life goes on I believe somehow something's changed
Something deep inside...
I've been searchin so long to find an answer
Now I know my life has meaning
Now I see myself as I am, feeling very free...
When my tears have come to an end I will understand
What I left behind: a part of me. Chicago