Viewing: Notes » Rinse.
Rinse.
(6 minute read.)
One is all, and all is one?
'Well, I stand up next to a mountain, and I chop it down with the edge of my hand.'
Hhhmmmnnn… there'll be no chopping today chez-moi.
Yeah, you might've guessed—my right-now music is Hendrix.
The title of that particular track is a play on how I'm feeling this morning—except that instead of 'slight return' perhaps 'unrestrained onslaught' is more apropros… I feel like I've been sledgehammered in a force 10. It is not fun.
Mid-flow of another (it rarely settles and is never far away) bout of imposter syndrome, I feel crap. Deflated. Weak. Almost worthless. Oh well, another day in paradise—and things could always be much worse (I'm glad they're not).
I'm aware of how I should deal with it…self-love and forgiveness, quieten the inner chatter, reframe negative thoughts with positive affirmations, etcetera. But, whatever the experts suggest, 'identifying unhelpful thought patterns' is of limited value.
And focusing on the good work I've done in recent weeks is pointless. Waste of effort.
So yeah, I crumble. I cry. Weep.
I've learned that in such circumstances, resistance genuinely is futile. Preventative defence? I wish. Instead, with an open door I allow the visitor in.
Familiar to each other, while we don't exactly go for forest walks among the giant redwoods, or in the evening sit by the fire—wrapped in blankets, sipping bourbon and laughing about the old days—we are in some strange ways… 'friends'? No, not exactly.
We do though, share common experience… having been entwined so long now, neither able to say with certainty which of us is possessed or possessor, we've stopped fighting. Neither head, nor tail—just part of that dog.
Long-story-short… I don't struggle with despair; I surrender to it. Experience has taught me that it'd be a tussle I couldn't win, and so I don't waste the energy fighting. And this works for me.
'If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you just let the wind carry you.'
The gloom? It'll pass. Sunlight seeps in.
For much of my life I've had low self-confidence and -esteem. I don't suppose that's about to change anytime soon. And I've not lived well—too many bad decisions, many of 'em romantic… some catastrophic marriage choices, etcetera. I got hurt. My fault.
Sadness and regret, guilt too, are the dominant forces in my life. So I retreat within. Broken. Living with the truth rather than trying to shut it out. Emotionally isolated, I rarely bond anymore, and instead remember my part in a much larger whole. And with that, the music changes…
So yeah, that's this note. I've said what I wanted, not for attention and sympathy but simply healthy self-expression. Therapy.
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