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kjpepperInteresting how an evening can turn out...
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sundart and I totally blew off making most of dinner (and a hearty apology again to beatgoddess and primitive_boy because we got into this conversation about writing which turned into this megadeep conversation about childhood traumas (mostly sundart's, but it did dredge up a few of mine as well).
During the course of the conversation it occurred to me how much I don't share, how much of my past I bury and hide from in untter unwillingness to deal. What's a little frightening is that I'm honestly not sure how much is buried up in here but there's quite a bit, as signalled by the very tight knot my stomach turned into when she said something about how it is liberating to take some painful aspect of your past and get it the hell out of your head - talk about it, write about it, anything - it was like a crowd of parts or something all rose up in this big ball of "Ack! Threat! Run Away! Run Away!" And then there was this very quickly flashed sequence of vignettes of bits of my childhood that went by too fast for me to hold on to any of them. Whoa.
Thinking about it later in the shower, I just found myself thinking about how much of myself I keep hidden from everybody, things I've never told a living soul, thoughts I've had that I've immediately squashed or suppressed or somehow kept myself from expressing, lest someone find out what or who I really am. And I wonder - what's so goddamned bad about me at my essential core that I have this unwavering conviction that everyone who peels back enough layers of masks that I wear will run screaming as far as possible in the other direction? Why am I so scared of other people hating me that my first instinct is to lie like hell? There is so much that I am and that I do and that I think that I refuse to own or be honest about becuase it would hurt someone elses feelings/make others despise me/because it would be "betraying the family"/nobody wants to hear about this/blah blah blah.
I think the writing exercisesundart and I have more or less agreed to get together and do every once in a while will help, but right now I'm a little boggled by how much work on me I have to do.
sundart and I totally blew off making most of dinner (and a hearty apology again to beatgoddess and primitive_boy because we got into this conversation about writing which turned into this megadeep conversation about childhood traumas (mostly sundart's, but it did dredge up a few of mine as well).During the course of the conversation it occurred to me how much I don't share, how much of my past I bury and hide from in untter unwillingness to deal. What's a little frightening is that I'm honestly not sure how much is buried up in here but there's quite a bit, as signalled by the very tight knot my stomach turned into when she said something about how it is liberating to take some painful aspect of your past and get it the hell out of your head - talk about it, write about it, anything - it was like a crowd of parts or something all rose up in this big ball of "Ack! Threat! Run Away! Run Away!" And then there was this very quickly flashed sequence of vignettes of bits of my childhood that went by too fast for me to hold on to any of them. Whoa.
Thinking about it later in the shower, I just found myself thinking about how much of myself I keep hidden from everybody, things I've never told a living soul, thoughts I've had that I've immediately squashed or suppressed or somehow kept myself from expressing, lest someone find out what or who I really am. And I wonder - what's so goddamned bad about me at my essential core that I have this unwavering conviction that everyone who peels back enough layers of masks that I wear will run screaming as far as possible in the other direction? Why am I so scared of other people hating me that my first instinct is to lie like hell? There is so much that I am and that I do and that I think that I refuse to own or be honest about becuase it would hurt someone elses feelings/make others despise me/because it would be "betraying the family"/nobody wants to hear about this/blah blah blah.
I think the writing exercise
sundart and I have more or less agreed to get together and do every once in a while will help, but right now I'm a little boggled by how much work on me I have to do.
