06 July 2009

One Size Fits Most

The web of lies a person will weave for protection can sometimes become their very undoing.

There comes a point where the truth can no longer be denied, no matter what you tell yourself. You can look in the mirror and not recognize the person you see. And that's the day where you think "I can't do this anymore, I can't live a lie, I have to be myself for my own sake and sanity." And that's like flipping a switch. You can see that there is truth glimmering from beyond the things you've tangled yourself in, and even if it's not what you thought it would be, it's better than being trapped. Moving towards it is really an easy choice.

You experience a little freedom. You can move again. You find that maybe there is some joy left in life, and it comes from knowing and being who you are. You can breathe again. And this is wonderful!

But then, you're around friends and family who have been trained to see the threads that you've carefully created for them, and that's all they see. They don't know your truth. They don't know that you want to stand in it and live in it and be the person who has been trapped underneath all this time. How could they?

Suddenly you find that you have shrugged right back into those lies.

Someone says "you really need to find a guy." It feels like they're handing you that new pair of shoes from the first day of eighth grade, which were great at the time and let you fit in with the crowd, but now you've outgrown them. They give them to you and want you to wear them because it looks good to them, it looks normal, it looks...

...exactly how you wanted it to look.

And you don't know how to tell them that it's uncomfortable and painful to not be able to walk or run or dance. It's killing you to stand still, but that's all you can do. You can't move.

And you want to scream because it feels like it's your fault. You were the one who created that tapestry of lies that looks so good. And now, you want something different, but you don't know how to find it. You want someone to listen and really hear you, because then they might see that they can help you be closer to yourself. You want someone to listen so they might understand that it's better for you to be free of those lies. You want someone to really see you, so they might say that it's okay to wear adidas shoes in the right size.

It turns out that there's a vast difference between knowing who you are and being who you are.

One is a size 7 1/2 and is starting to feel very comfortable.

The other is a size 5. But I guess it sure looks nice.


Jenz said...

i know exactly what you mean. great post. I do not miss this type of situation at all. You have the power, and you'll get there.

HappyOrganist said...

isn't guilt great? you have hit on a universal theme there.. we ALL struggle with that (in our own various and sundry places). that thought "it's my fault, so I'm stuck or gotta suck it up (and so on)"
gotta love guilt

just think, we didn't KNOW what it (guilt) felt like eons ago. I find it fascinating to mull over that possibility in my head.

ControllerOne said...

Your post was wonderful. Even though my close friends know who I am, and know that are not comfortable with the idea of me being who I am. To borrow from you, they know I'm a size 8 1/2, but honestly think I look so much better (and really believe I would be happier) if I could just make myself like, wear and get used to size 7s.

Thank you for the wonderful thoughts.

ControllerOne said...

Sheesh. Sorry about the grammar! The second sentence was supposed to read "Even though my close friends know who I am, they are not comfortable with me being who I am."

drakames said...

Jenz: I hope you're right. Thanks.

H.O.: Not such a fan of guilt. I know it serves a purpose, but I don't think I'm doing anything wrong by wanting to be who I am in every second of every day with everyone. I just am unsure of how to get there at this point.

ControllerOne: Welcome! Thanks for letting me know that you get where I'm coming from. It's nice to hear. No worries about the grammer...it happens to all of us.