“I prefer to be true to myself, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false, and to incur my own abhorrence.” ~ Frederick Douglass
“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.” ~ Marilyn Monroe
Have you ever noticed how people can flip on a dime? I bet you have. Sweet, kind, “loving” when they’re getting what they want. You think you know them, patient, caring, honest. The test of time and conflict, always proving to be the truest. In times of conflict will they run away? Terrified. Ego. Fragile. Cowering. Over time will who you thought they were change as they grow weary and tired, exhausted beneath the façade they’ve been protecting? Unpredictable in the duration of its experience, but, inevitably, the test of time always reveals our true character. Highlighting the difference between love and manipulation. Whether we want it to or not. Clear. Relentless. Unforgiving. Pretenses are exhausting, our psyches were never meant to carry the weight of false identities. Fracturing. Splintered bone. We break. Suffocated in the chambers of our lies. Burning bodies. Smoke filled lungs. Choking on the truth. Trying to keep it. Buried. Not knowing how to be honest. How to be. free.
They are not mean. This is not intentional. It is not calculated. This is what happens when you do not visit your trauma. This is what happens when you lock your wounds in the basement and shout from the rooftops of your healing. Of your freedom. They do not intend to hurt you, but, broken hearts only know the breaking. Fragile minds live in the arena of defending. Fearful lives only know the life of selfish protecting. Their manipulation was learned, a tactic for survival, a side effect of their ineffectively dressed wounds. Blistering. They are not to blame. They are to be forgiven. This is not maddening. It is sorrowful. Broken children, seeking affirmation, lost in the external world. They hide behind convincing adult faces. Skipping through their life with made-up smiling faces, abandoning themselves in dark and empty places. This is not admirable, it is sorrowful. The pain. Overwhelming. To see the weakness of mind convince the courage of the heart to be silenced. This is not strong, it is heartbreaking.
“That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is. Most people love you for who you pretend to be. To keep their love, you keep pretending - performing. You get to love your pretense. It's true, we're locked in an image, an act - and the sad thing is, people get so used to their image, they grow attached to their masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it, they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession.” ~ Jim Morrison
To use the gift of words to poison, to hurt, to lie, to stick daggers in one another’s hearts. You are misusing the power. You are abusing a gift. You are trading pieces of gold and silver for rape and pillage. This is not noble. It is sorrowful, for you use these words to defend and hurt and justify your unconscious action. You deny your right to claim the throne of responsibility in your own heart, you deny your right to freedom from your own lies. This is sorrowful for you are lost like a child, terrified of the monsters of the world, unable to see that they are merely shadows, cast on the prison walls of your shackled mind. Poisoned. Spewing the anger and hate, the rage you feel inside and dressing them in flowery words. Convincing yourself as you try and convince me. My dear, lay down your weapons. Your heart and mine, we know the truth. For hearts don’t lie, they cannot be poisoned, it is the fragility of the mind that succumbs to such tactics. My love, let down the gates that guard your heart, she is strong, she does not need your protecting.
"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." ~ C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
This trouble that you feel, this unrest, it has been there, long before I stirred the depths of your resting waters. Long before I dared to dive into the stardust of your bones, long before you held me in the shallows of your soul. It has been there. You hide from the truth because you fear it will destroy you, the pain, the hurt, the anger. You create your own madness, you deny your own soul life. You’re manufacturing this reality and blaming iton your history. Imprisoned in this state of the perpetual, self-fulfilling prophecy. Sickened. Unable to process your emotions. Lost. My dear, can’t you see, the monsters you run from are merely shadows?
Rest. Are you not tired? Feel. Your heart breaks, confined, suffocated, buried in the coffin of your “safety.” My dear, don’t you see? Our hearts were always meant to be free.
We often fear what we desire, I will not pretend to know why this is true. You’ve told me of the distance, the manufactured solitude you pretend to love so much under the guise of “independence.” Don’t you know that the world needs your light? Don’t you see that you have value, inherently? My love, you hide your light and call it freedom. You fear dependence on love, you fear it leaving you, you forget that you were birthed from love and truth, we all were, it cannot be taken from you. You say you love this solitude so much you must protect it, you love the dragons of your past, the ghosts of your traumas too much to let them go. You fear that if you open your heart to me I shall see the graves you’ve clawed your way out of, you fear it may be too much, I may shield my eyes and run. You see, you do not know me. I have built my life upon the rotting coffins of my past, this life you see stands upon a graveyard. I have clawed my way from death to life, bloody, broken fingernails, dirt covered flesh. My eyes wide open. Seeing. You have misjudged me. Resiliency, grit, this is not weak, this does not scare me, to me that is brave, admirable, strong. You do not realize. For you to see this would be freeing, to come to terms with your own beauty, beheld in the eyes of another. We are but mirrors reflecting the essence of life for a time. But. You live in fear. Cowardly. Confined. And to the fearful heart, the comfort of misery and pain is more lovely than the question mark, the wonder, the curiosity, the unknown depths of vast and wild waters. “Safety” to the fearful heart is more valuable than freedom. Misery is more comfortable than love.
“The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.” ~ Carl G. Jung
My dear, lay down your weapons. You do not need them to prove that you are strong. The strong fear not destruction, the strong fear lack of passion, the death of their soul while their heart remains beating, loss of life with breath in their lungs. Your denial of your anger is not fooling anyone. Your lips drip with anger, your chest wreaks of her. Do not call this dying a life.
You think you are being strong, so weak you fear connection. So invulnerably vulnerable, so fearful you can’t see straight. My dear, lay down your weapons. Your closing of your heart will end up hurting you more than its opening. Trust me. Our ghosts unless dealt with always find us.You will hurt anyway, I promise. You will hurt more alone, in the comfort of your misery. This is not strong, this is not healing, this is sorrowful.
“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection” ~ Sharon Salzberg
What do you fear letting go of? What ghosts haunt you once you find yourself, all alone?
Lay down your weapons. Sit with me. Rest for a while. There is nothing to fear. Together we will dismantle the monsters of your mind until you are able to see quite clearly, they are but shadows.