GOT TO BE REAL

"God has given you one face."

"And you give yourself another."

William Shakespeare

I hear a lot about "being real," about being "your authentic self."  Is it really possible? Maybe it is to a certain point but I'm not sure anyone can be truly real. In my own mind I just don't think its really possible.

I don't think it's realistic to think that anyone can get through this life without their psychological skin being burned at some point. For some, it's a scarring that means major therapy and for others it's the place we start the construction of walls. I don't think I've met anyone who doesn't have some point at which public knowledge ends and privacy begins. 

So what is meant by "being real?" How much of ourselves do we have to show the real world before we're considered fake? If we don't choose to show it all are we living a lie?

I went to my reunion a few weeks ago and after I left I felt like I was living that proverbial lie. I was smiling like everything in my life was fine but nothing could be farther from the truth. Every bone in my body hurt. The car accident and this subsequent illness has wreaked havoc in every way possible; physically, emotionally, spiritually, in my career and financially. Did I want to appear weak and out of control to my former classmates? Not only no, but hell no! So, am I not being real? Do we need to expose our vulnerabilities to be real? Is this I'm okay, you're okay stuff going too far?

Where does being real begin? 

What does it mean?

I know I have walls up. Only my closest friends get past most of them but there are still those that are ingrained so deeply no one will ever pass them.  I do know that one of the deepest has to do with abandonment. I'm equally as sure my adoption has a great deal to do with it. There are pieces to the puzzle of me that only I can fit to make the puzzle whole. I'm not sure I even want to put the puzzle together. What would be the benefit at this point?

So the face we put to the world is the self that we want others to see at face value, so to speak. The rest has to be earned. Chronic pain is the proverbial icing on the cake. Yes, it makes you introspective but it also brings the false face to the forefront. Invisible illness is just that. It is a false face that we present to the world so they don't see the physical pain that lies underneath the surface. Physical pain, emotional pain: pain is pain, no matter how you cut it. 

So what is "knowing our authentic self?" I think that most of us know who we are. We know what brings us pleasure and what brings pain. We might not know what we want to do with that knowledge but that has no bearing on the knowledge. We present to the world that which insulates our psyche. It's not a false self, it's a safe self. We've been conditioned to believe that if we don't bear all we're not being "real" and I don't think that is the case at all. 


I just don't think we have to tell all. 


I think there is such a thing as too much information.

BY THE CHOICES WE MAKE

By the choices we make we create the life that we have.

Years ago a dear friend said this to me. We were discussing one of his girlfriends and she, in my opinion, had made a stupid decision not to marry him. Her life was in shambles and she just left. He said this about her. Carry forward and now this quote is still haunting me. I've never forgotten it.

When you really examine it you start to look at the choices you could have made and didn't. You also look at the choices you made to go forward but, in reality, they were choices to cover up the past. Is it a desire to move forward or a result of childhood baggage we still carry? Is it baggage that we don't even know we still carry?

Is the "me" that I see unworthy or unlovable? Where did this come from? Was the wound in childhood so severe that my choices based on this fear perpetuated it?  If it was a wound from childhood, why can't I remember it? Usually it's based on a trauma and the only one I can remember is the loss of my parents. Both sets. Somehow, there is a nagging feeling that  something is still in there that I can't quite put my finger on.

I think age matters.


As we get older I think it's only natural to look back. Hindsight and maturity bring a different perspective to life decisions. I think needs change also. What was important to me in my 20's and 30's is not where I am now. Basic needs never change but emotional needs do change.


What are my emotional needs? Even now, I'm not quite sure. Knowing requires getting through all the muck and walls I've created over the years to keep the imperfect and vulnerable from showing. I don't think many of us enjoy being open and vulnerable. To us "intimacy-phobes" it's the silver bullet. 


On the other hand, is there a possibility of too much truth about yourself? Why do I feel like I have to have all the answers? Maybe it is really a case of "if it's not broke, don't fix it." If we are living life without too many problems......who cares? Why do I have to be open and vulnerable? Do I really want to know?


Yes, I do.

Being vulnerable is a HUGE pile of leaves. If we would just rake them once in a while; all those emotional leaves would be nicely piled up, put in a garbage bag and thrown out. The problem is we let the leaves pile up and then when you try to have fun and jump in you find that they've been there so long the ones at the bottom are all yucky and icky. It's like trying to jump into a giant compost heap.


I'm wading into the pile of leaves that I raked.  It feels very icky at the bottom and I haven't even begun to get through it all. As I look around I take a big sigh. On top of all that I haven't even begun to start pulling the weeds.