(Refer to: Intro)
Well, here goes. I think the thing I'm going to talk about that I hate about myself is my inability to fully feel things. The inability to completely immerse myself in things, and just let my feelings go. No matter how well things are going, and how much I'm enjoying something, I can't let completely loose and feel the sheer joy/exhiliration/pleasure. No matter how sad something is, I can't just let loose and really cry, or really mourn/grieve/whatever other word you want. There is ALWAYS a little piece of me that is completely closed off.
Now, you might think that sounds fantastic, because Hey, you feel less pain and such, right? Well, nope. I feel it ALL. I just can't... feel it. I'm failing to explain this adequately. It's like there is this box in my head, and no matter what, it will never be opened. I'll never be truly ME if I can't open it, but I don't have the key. I can't fully trust anybody, I can't be completely real, I'm never totally in the moment. I have to keep a tight rein on everything somehow, although I'm really good at faking that I'm right here, right now. I have tried so many things over the years to work my way out of that box, but it eludes me.
It's not that I can't enjoy things, because I can. The laughter of my children, the exuberance of the dogs when they get to cut loose in the dog park, The Mate's smile; all those things are wonderful, and so many more. It's not that I can't cry, because I certainly do my share of that. More than I'd like to admit, actually. It's not that I never get angry, or disappointed, or feel empathy, or contentment, but it's never complete. I feel all of those things and so much more. But no matter what I'm feeling, there is always part of me that is hiding in that box, watching, waiting, but never emerging.
This is actually sounding a bit ridiculous even to me, and I'm certain that I'm not even close to describing what I mean. And that is another facet of what I'm talking about. I just can't totally let the words flow to really paint the picture I see in my head, in part because I know that it's somehow wrong, and I'm somehow wrong, and it doesn't matter what I say, because nobody will understand, and if I ever did let that box get opened, so much would come pouring out that I would never stop crying/laughing/screaming or maybe some odd combination of all of these. So to make sure that never happens, I never ever let my brain stop. Even when I'm falling asleep I need some kind of noise, the tv, a radio, my DS games, books, anything to make sure that I have that bit of me hidden. Even from myself.
All of this would be so much easier if I were just to write something superficial, like how much I hate it when I can't get motivated like I should, or when I get impatient with others who don't deserve it and so on, but this isn't called 30 Days Of Truth to make up something that sounds like it's true, and maybe is true on a superficial level. It's hard, because I'm baring pieces of me that haven't seen the light of day before, and it's definitely allowing others a chance to take advantage of my vulnerability. But you know what? Screw it. I'm going to be vulnerable, and that's that. I'm even being honest with myself, and I think that's the hardest thing of all.
So, Day One is done (or as done as I can get, because I'm not a great writer), and tomorrow I'll move on to "Something you love about yourself". I don't know if that will be harder or easier than this was. Regardless, I'm committed to this 30 Days thing, and I'm going to bare my soul here, for all the world to see (even if only a few people really see it). No, that probably doesn't make me brave (maybe stupid), but I guess in a way it does show some courage.