I’ve very recently come to realize that I really don’t know who I am. I don’t think I’ve ever known. I’m not really my own person. Do I even know how to discover who I am? Is it too late for me?
Here are some things I do know about myself.
First and foremost, I’m a follower. I always have been. But for the record, I’m not a sheep. Extremists will get that reference. Sadly, being a follower (among other things) has shaped who I am today. Therefore, many of my opinions and beliefs have been largely based on that fact.
Why? I’m guessing it’s because I want to please people, because I can’t stand when someone doesn’t like me for an unpopular opinion or question. Which brings me to my next statement.
I was verbally bullied as a child. Mind you it was mild compared to today’s bullying. But name calling and constant rejection leave lasting marks. As does a strict, mistrusting German mother, who made me the submissive paranoid cynic that I am today.
I don’t know why I picked this gif, but it’s scary, and my mother was scary. She had spies.
Whenever I was grounded, lectured, or yelled at, it literally felt like I was being emotionally beaten, and I would always retreat to my room for a tearful breakdown.
I swore up and down I would never become my mother. But lately, I find myself saying things that remind me of the things she used to say. I’m probably going to hell for freaking out my children so that they’ll behave when they’re not around me. I do my best not to do that crap, because I know it could damage them in the long run, like it damaged me.
As a good friend just recently said to me, “But we NEED to do these things to protect our kids. Especially today, and with today’s technology.”
Should parents maybe just let children make mistakes, so that they’ll actually learn what consequences are?
“If you get a tattoo, I’m writing you out of my will” or how about “Don’t come running to me if you get pregnant. You’re on your own and out of my house if you do” or “Don’t cry to me about your open heart surgery. You insisted on smoking and eating bad food” or “If you ever get arrested, you WILL sit in jail, and learn your lesson” . . .
Or is that too evil?
Don’t play mind games with your kids. It could have lasting negative effects.
I’ve never gotten arrested, FYI. I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket, which bloody amazes me, considering how many mirrors I’ve broken in my 47 and a half years.
My mother might be proud for trying to raise my kids right, but I’m sure she constantly rolls in her grave, because I’m definitely not the good Roman Catholic school girl I was raised to be.
Quite the contrary.
I am not a …
Anyway, my children clearly see this in my day-to-day behaviors. And I’m certain I’ve been accused of being an inappropriate, unconventional parent many times.
Also for the record, even though I’ve stopped going to church does not mean I don’t pray anymore. I still believe in and follow many church teachings. Don’t bother trying to convince me God doesn’t exist. My feet are solidly planted.
I may question my faith quite often, and throw a daily “why me?” at God, but I still believe there’s a supreme being out there, watching all of its creations. It’s just easier to call Him God, rather than torture myself with more miserable what-ifs than necessary, which is another one of my huge life-long problems. The what-ifs. I’m still unsure of why I hone in on the what-ifs all the time.
Kevin said something yesterday that made me think, and I think I’ve realized why it’s the truth. Whenever I don’t like something, and/or I don’t want to do something, I resist. Yesterday, when I bitched about being required to provide proof to my son’s school that he requires glasses, I insisted I was acting that way because I don’t trust the system.
Another thing about me: I’m a believer in many conspiracy theories. When I find out about any little discrepancies, I run wild with them. But I won’t expand on that right now, or preach about how it’s important for people to open their eyes in this new millennium.
So, when something seems a little too strict, or I feel like I’m under a microscope, I go bonkers. Especially where censorship is concerned. But that stems from my elementary school days, when I tried to ‘educate’ my friends (IN CATHOLIC GRADE SCHOOL!) by bringing in an unapproved medical book.
BOY were my parents and teacher pissed! And of course the book was confiscated. “You’re too young to know that stuff!” I was 13 and ridiculously curious. SHEESH!
I couldn’t resist! And, it’s better than the first gif I was considering using.
I’m definitely going to hell.
Kevin is right though. What he doesn’t know is that I’ve realized why I resist. But he can probably guess, because he has seen my mother in action with her psychologically harmful words. But this isn’t an attack on my deceased mother either. Let’s just say I think I know why she prayed the way she did the last few years of her life. Guilt.
I’m a damaged person. I’m emotionally needy, therefore distancing myself from the big bad world so that I don’t get hurt. And when I say hurt, I mean criticized, disappointed, or anything similar. Because when those things happen to me, I curl into a ball for days, wallowing in self pity, hating myself for even succumbing to self pity in the first place.
On a more positive note, based on these few basic self-discovery statements, I can say that I have always loved writing, music, and travel.
With writing, there is self-expression through experience and emotion. Anyone who truly knows me knows what a passionate and emotional person I am – another reason I distance myself from the world. People often mistake me for an insane menopausal mess. Also with writing is learning, and unlike my school days, I actually appreciate and enjoy learning in my middle-age years. It helps me feel like I’m worth something.
Music, well, I don’t believe it’s necessary to expand much on that, except to say it’s the single constant in life which I can count on being there until my last day. Even if the horrible day were to come where I either lose my hearing, or music is somehow (God forbid) outlawed, music will always be in my heart and soul. That can never be stripped from me. Listening to music (and occasionally playing my violin when my neck isn’t giving me grief) are the only times I can truly let myself be happy without worry.
Freaking long paragraphs…
Travel is something I experienced at a young age, and a lot of it. I’m truly grateful to have seen so much early in life. Those are memories I cherish, and rely on in dark times.
Everything else about me, I’m still searching for. Hopefully it comes to me sooner than later, because that means major progress with defeating depression and anxiety.
I bid all of my readers an excellent day with a huge thank you for reading, and leave with something different from the musical world. Why? Because everyone needs something different now and then, when mainstream music gets to be redundant, and many songs start to sound identical.
I sure wish the creators of Animusic would make more! And how ironic that it is all digitally created, given my above statement about technology.
And finally, holy crap, this was a long post.
PS: In no way was I ever physically or mentally abused. The above statements about the things my mother used to say were NEVER meant to imply that. My statements simply mean that she would say things that made me paranoid and constantly guilty for even stepping one toe out of line.
THANKS BRO! Jk, bro. JK! Love ya!
Otherwise, I had an awesome childhood. I was spoiled, and got to travel a lot early in life, and after high school. I’m still spoiled, by my husband and older brothers (who still look after me whenever possible). I’ve just never reacted well to things like being yelled at, or confrontation of any type. I still don’t to this day – hence why I keep to my house most of the time.
My former doctor nailed it when he said I have a fragile ego, and that I’m a person who puts on a smile and giggles for the sake of seeming like I’m OK to concerned loved ones. He reduced me to tears with those statements alone. What I don’t think he realized is how my mother’s sneaky parental mental tactics might have had something to do with it. That, and the crap I endured in school. It wasn’t really Mom’s fault. She was just parenting the way she saw fit, according to her upbringing and experiences.
FAR from abused. I just have permanent issues.
PPS: Ooops. I made this entry even longer. I can’t help it. Another fucked up thing about me: I constantly feel the need to explain myself.