Naked Truths
A couple weeks ago this was gonna be a post about my need for control. Last week it was gonna be probably another validation thing, but that's old hat by now. It's just kind of this circular rehash that, perhaps by design, never really leads anywhere.
Instead, we're gonna go with the only thing that really moves the needle any more:
The Truth.
And you can go into your Absurdist gimmick and argue about the nature of Truth and all that, but you know full well that we're talking about the things that you hold true about yourself.
That I hold true about myself.
And the truth is that you don't break through that barrier you ran into this past weekend because you don't want to. Not really. Sure, you superficially want some of the things beyond the wall - productivity, expression, confidence, and the like - but you don't actually want to do the thing you need to in order to breach it.
No, I'm not talking about a lack of ambition. Clearly you have that in spades, including the ambition to just fuckin' live. I'm not talking about discipline, either. You know that you can get yourself to do the things you need to do, even if it takes you a bit to make it a habit. I'm not even talking about effort. You try hard every day of your life.
You have all these tools. You have the motivation. You have the strength. You even have the will.
The thing that you're missing, the absurdly thematic element that you've refused to include in all your grand designs, is acceptance.
Think back to all those clever words you wrote about yourself over the last seven months or so. Remember the thing about making love for yourself conditional? You actually do that for everything. You've set all these victory conditions for yourself, all these artificial benchmarks by which you gauge not just your worth, but the value of nearly every aspect of your life.
You're not social enough unless you talk to someone this many times. You're not kind unless you help that many people. You're not justifiably disabled unless you try to kill yourself more than that one time. You're not doing a good job running a game unless half or more of the people involved tell you they love it. You're not a good writer until literally everyone you know says you are. The list goes on.
Ultimately, the thing that keeps you on this side of the wall is the possibility that, when you get to the other side, you still won't hit these benchmarks. You might try your damnedest and fail, and then what'll you have? It's the part of you that thinks 'nothing' that's holding you back.
You have to accept that all those things you dream are behind that wall might not be real. You have to accept that you might not accomplish your loft goals, and in order to do that, you have to do the one thing you're so afraid to do: accept and love yourself as your are.
I get it. Being you, being me and us, is hard. Super hard. And I know there's that little voice that says that the moment you stop yearning to be more than you are is the moment you lose, but I think we all know that's bullshit. And if you don't, you will.
I love you. I love you so much - do you know? I love that you get out of bed most days. I love that even those times you don't, you get out of it the next day, or the day after that. I love that you only ever tried to kill yourself the once. I love the tenacity to believe that, despite daily evidence to the contrary, your life might get better, that you might still be able to accomplish your dreams.
Accept those things about you. Accept your strength, and your courage. Accept all those things that happened to you, and accept all the things you've done trying to fix it along the way. Accept that he took your pride away. Accept how it broke you, so wholly and completely. Accept all those nights spent crying in the darkness, mere feet away from a man who only knew how to express his love through rage, who would whip you with flyswatters and toy swords and his bare hands if an implement wasn't handy. Accept how he would hit you and throw you out of the trailer at the slightest provocation, and sometimes for no real reason at all.
Accept how you turned all of that, somehow, into this batshit insane sort of blessing. Accept how remarkable it is that you came through that and, right when it looked like you would perpetuate the cycle of abuse, you saw what he had made you, and you turned away. You didn't happen to become a good and empathetic person - you chose to be that! Accept the hell out of that shit!
Accept all those nights you spent alone, making war on your demons and shadows and other constructs, interpretations of the pain you dealt with that would ultimately give you that skill you cherish so much. Accept how remarkable it was that time and again you found a way to turn your negatives into positives.
Accept those demons that still counsel you through example. Accept all that pain and heartache that will almost certainly stay with you until you die.
Accept that you might die having never accomplished more than you've already accomplished, and sooner that you might want. Accept that you can never really rule out the possibility of suicide. Accept that you have already contributed kindness and love to the world, that you have been a light in the lives of others, and they didn't care whether you were traditionally successful.
Accept what you see when you look in the mirror. Accept that underneath all the superficial flaws, you still see the warrior, the badass within. Accept those battle scars hidden in the hints of sadness in your eyes. Accept those knowing smiles you built from the carcasses of despair that you have left on the battlefield. Accept that burgeoning queerness that tells you that you're beautiful, both because of and despite whatever meaningless flaws you have in your figure.
Accept that monster in your belly, born of that rage that you so finely honed into determination. Accept that colossus that now houses your heart, protecting it from all but the most insidious of shadows. Accept that all these little fragments are just pieces of an incredible whole that comprises 'you.'
Accept that frustration you feel, too. And accept all the difficulty to come, whether or not you ever really find out what's on the other side of the wall.
Because acceptance is love. Unconditional love. To accept you as you are is to love you as you are. To accept all that you were is to acknowledge all that you have done, and to love who you were all along the way, all your different permutations and successes and failures. To accept all that you may or may not become is to cast off your restraints, to live without pretense, and to love the journey, the mess, the story that you've yet to make.
Finally, you have to love all of it. All of it. And not in order to accomplish something specific, or to reach a milestone. Love it because it all helped to make such a magnificent creature as you.
You're already wonderful. You were wonderful all along, and nothing will ever take that from you. Nothing.
Instead, we're gonna go with the only thing that really moves the needle any more:
The Truth.
And you can go into your Absurdist gimmick and argue about the nature of Truth and all that, but you know full well that we're talking about the things that you hold true about yourself.
That I hold true about myself.
And the truth is that you don't break through that barrier you ran into this past weekend because you don't want to. Not really. Sure, you superficially want some of the things beyond the wall - productivity, expression, confidence, and the like - but you don't actually want to do the thing you need to in order to breach it.
No, I'm not talking about a lack of ambition. Clearly you have that in spades, including the ambition to just fuckin' live. I'm not talking about discipline, either. You know that you can get yourself to do the things you need to do, even if it takes you a bit to make it a habit. I'm not even talking about effort. You try hard every day of your life.
You have all these tools. You have the motivation. You have the strength. You even have the will.
The thing that you're missing, the absurdly thematic element that you've refused to include in all your grand designs, is acceptance.
Think back to all those clever words you wrote about yourself over the last seven months or so. Remember the thing about making love for yourself conditional? You actually do that for everything. You've set all these victory conditions for yourself, all these artificial benchmarks by which you gauge not just your worth, but the value of nearly every aspect of your life.
You're not social enough unless you talk to someone this many times. You're not kind unless you help that many people. You're not justifiably disabled unless you try to kill yourself more than that one time. You're not doing a good job running a game unless half or more of the people involved tell you they love it. You're not a good writer until literally everyone you know says you are. The list goes on.
Ultimately, the thing that keeps you on this side of the wall is the possibility that, when you get to the other side, you still won't hit these benchmarks. You might try your damnedest and fail, and then what'll you have? It's the part of you that thinks 'nothing' that's holding you back.
You have to accept that all those things you dream are behind that wall might not be real. You have to accept that you might not accomplish your loft goals, and in order to do that, you have to do the one thing you're so afraid to do: accept and love yourself as your are.
I get it. Being you, being me and us, is hard. Super hard. And I know there's that little voice that says that the moment you stop yearning to be more than you are is the moment you lose, but I think we all know that's bullshit. And if you don't, you will.
I love you. I love you so much - do you know? I love that you get out of bed most days. I love that even those times you don't, you get out of it the next day, or the day after that. I love that you only ever tried to kill yourself the once. I love the tenacity to believe that, despite daily evidence to the contrary, your life might get better, that you might still be able to accomplish your dreams.
Accept those things about you. Accept your strength, and your courage. Accept all those things that happened to you, and accept all the things you've done trying to fix it along the way. Accept that he took your pride away. Accept how it broke you, so wholly and completely. Accept all those nights spent crying in the darkness, mere feet away from a man who only knew how to express his love through rage, who would whip you with flyswatters and toy swords and his bare hands if an implement wasn't handy. Accept how he would hit you and throw you out of the trailer at the slightest provocation, and sometimes for no real reason at all.
Accept how you turned all of that, somehow, into this batshit insane sort of blessing. Accept how remarkable it is that you came through that and, right when it looked like you would perpetuate the cycle of abuse, you saw what he had made you, and you turned away. You didn't happen to become a good and empathetic person - you chose to be that! Accept the hell out of that shit!
Accept all those nights you spent alone, making war on your demons and shadows and other constructs, interpretations of the pain you dealt with that would ultimately give you that skill you cherish so much. Accept how remarkable it was that time and again you found a way to turn your negatives into positives.
Accept those demons that still counsel you through example. Accept all that pain and heartache that will almost certainly stay with you until you die.
Accept that you might die having never accomplished more than you've already accomplished, and sooner that you might want. Accept that you can never really rule out the possibility of suicide. Accept that you have already contributed kindness and love to the world, that you have been a light in the lives of others, and they didn't care whether you were traditionally successful.
Accept what you see when you look in the mirror. Accept that underneath all the superficial flaws, you still see the warrior, the badass within. Accept those battle scars hidden in the hints of sadness in your eyes. Accept those knowing smiles you built from the carcasses of despair that you have left on the battlefield. Accept that burgeoning queerness that tells you that you're beautiful, both because of and despite whatever meaningless flaws you have in your figure.
Accept that monster in your belly, born of that rage that you so finely honed into determination. Accept that colossus that now houses your heart, protecting it from all but the most insidious of shadows. Accept that all these little fragments are just pieces of an incredible whole that comprises 'you.'
Accept that frustration you feel, too. And accept all the difficulty to come, whether or not you ever really find out what's on the other side of the wall.
Because acceptance is love. Unconditional love. To accept you as you are is to love you as you are. To accept all that you were is to acknowledge all that you have done, and to love who you were all along the way, all your different permutations and successes and failures. To accept all that you may or may not become is to cast off your restraints, to live without pretense, and to love the journey, the mess, the story that you've yet to make.
Finally, you have to love all of it. All of it. And not in order to accomplish something specific, or to reach a milestone. Love it because it all helped to make such a magnificent creature as you.
You're already wonderful. You were wonderful all along, and nothing will ever take that from you. Nothing.
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