Inspired by this brilliant article.
I completely broke down yesterday. Like, seriously. Completely. Totally. Overwhelmingly. Breakdown with a capital bloody B.
And although I think it happened for many reasons, it – as are most things in life – was focused on one central issue, one little crack in my confidence that had been slowly growing bigger and bigger until one day, yesterday, it gave way.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I felt like I had totally lost my identity. My sense of self had vanished. When I did something, I wasn’t sure if I was doing it because I wanted to, or because I wanted to make other people happy, I wanted to fit in, I wanted to just get along with everyone else. And I wasn’t sure what made me so special. There’s probably another guy exactly like me somewhere else in the world.
You see, there will always be people who don’t like you. That’s life. And perhaps in future if you’re struggling to come to terms with that I’ll write a post on that issue. But when you’re worried you’re not good enough for the people closest to you, the people you actually care about, whom you value and love, that’s when things start to get a bit shaky.
Recently I’ve been starting to question the values I’ve been brought up with, the values which my family have placed on me due to tradition, and I’ve come to a passionate but frankly unwelcome conclusion – I don’t agree with ‘em. And not knowing whether I, me, the actual being I call myself doesn’t agree with them or whether it’s just external influences, my friends, experiences and so on which have moulded this false perception into me is such a horrible feeling.
I don’t know what I should do.
Ditch my family in favour of something I truly believe in? Abandon them knowing they will be upset, forever angry, forever mournful of the one child who valued himself more than he valued his parents? The one child who was selfish in a selfless family?
Or do I sit tight, and make others happy? Lay back on my morals, settle for half as the playwright Arthur Miller would say, know that I’m not doing what I actually want but know that the happiness of my family is something I desire too, and if the two are conflicting, happiness is what I’ll go for?
Who knows.
All I do know is this.
I guess from the moment you were born a blank identity waiting to be filled and coloured and splattered with memories, emotions, values, opinions and the like is the ideal situation.
Well that ain’t the case.
We are a product of our genes. There are many things which we simply cannot choose.
Are you right-handed or left-handed? Ambidextrous? Who are your parents? What’s your eye colour? Where were you born? What’s your mother tongue? How many siblings do you have?
Those are a bit obvious. Now think about these.
What’s your favourite colour? What do you like doing? What’s your favourite sport? What type of music do you listen to, if any? What do you like to eat? What games do you enjoy playing?
Can we choose these?
If you’re expecting an answer from me, you’re probably going to be disappointed. I am neither a biologist nor a psychologist though I am interested in both of those respective fields.
What I can say, however, is that the answers to virtually all of the first group of questions were determined before you were born, whereas the second group of questions can only be answered by your existence. There is no way that if you asked a baby a minute old (provided it had the mental age of an adult) what it liked to do, it would reply ‘Ah, dudeeee, surfing is sick!! Come with me tomorrow night, yeah?!’ Because that opinion, that choice, that jigsaw piece in the personality puzzle needs experience to be answered.
So what is all this trying to say?
Yes, things in our lives are determined by factors outside are control. But many more things rely on us – our experiences, our interactions, our life choices. Now you could argue that these by their very nature are indeed determined for us; if they weren’t and we could control them then we could essentially predict the future.
The deterministic vs. free will debate is a whole other hugely interesting topic for another time, but that’s not the point I’m making – what I’m saying is the fact that I wish to go against the values I was brought up with because of someone I’ve met or something I’ve seen is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter where or how that opinion came about – as long as I truly believe in it, that opinion (along with those memories that cemented it in place) is a part of me.
Because if we were all carbon copies of our ancestors, then not only would life be very boring, but there would be no debate, no discussion, no meeting of minds, and moreover, our lives, ourselves, who we are would be determined centuries before we were actually born. That ain’t the way it is, folks! We can change things! It’s not your fault if you’ve experienced something and you think life would be easier without the experience – what matters is how you respond to it, how you adapt to it, and whether you’re ready to face your fears head on and tackle whatever it is you’re afraid to do.
Now, since it’s been a while, I’ve decided to make this quite a long post. The first half has been more about identity, personality and character. That’s one problem I’ve been having. The other one which will be tackled in this second half is my huge void of self-esteem.
Time to state the obvious.
Human beings aren’t perfect.
Well done, Sherlock.
But you’d be surprised how many times I’ve failed to recognise this plain fact.
As you know if you’ve read my previous blog posts, I hold Jules (my best friend) wholly responsible for saving my life. Without him, there’d be no me today.
And I can’t help stopping and looking at him, then looking at me and thinking, ‘What on earth were you thinking becoming friends with me? Me – the one always moaning, always crying, always emotional, not always happy like everyone else, the one who struggles with self-confidence, the one who has the pettiest of problems, the one who keeps dragging you down and down and down some more with his life, his pathetic little life. You’d be better off without me, mate. You really would.’
I’ve been plagued with the guilt that he doesn’t deserve me, me with all my faults, he deserves so much better.
But perhaps that’s wrong.
Perhaps that’s not the issue here.
Perhaps what I’m actually thinking is, ‘I don’t deserve him.’
Perhaps what I’m actually thinking is, ‘If you wouldn’t buy a house with a cracked foundation then why would you love someone like me?’*
Perhaps what I’m actually thinking is, ‘Me, with all my weaknesses, all my negatives, all my bad points, so far off of perfect that if I were to aim for bullseye I’d stab my foot, I am not worthy of someone like you.’
And that, ladies and gentle men, is a big fat lie.
Just because I don’t love myself doesn’t mean other people don’t too.
We give everything and ask nothing. We do amazing things but shoot down the appreciation that follows. We kill ourselves to prove our love and then distance ourselves from those who seek to love us. We explain away praise, recognition and compliments because it’s too uncomfortable to take in.*
I will go to the end of the earth to praise someone I deem worthy of praise, yet I will go to the other end to avoid someone else’s praise. You know why? Because no matter what I do, whomever I help, I don’t think I’m worthy of anything. I’m too bad, too evil, too unperfect to be awarded even the slightest commendation. I don’t deserve it.
Ok then, Mr Grumpy Boots. Suppose you are what you say you are. That would imply that you have some idea of what is good, what not to do in order to not be bad or evil or unperfect as you say. Suppose that someone were to walk up to you right here right now and forgive you for all the bad things you’ve done, and give you the opportunity to start afresh. What then?
Clara: You think they’ll let me go, after what I’ve done?
The Doctor: You’re all the same, you screaming kids. You know that? “Look at me, I’m unforgivable.” Well here’s the unforeseeable. I forgive you…after all you’ve done. I forgive you.
From the most recent Doctor Who episode – my favourite ever Capaldi scene (which contains the above dialogue) starts here. Such a moving and inspirational speech for someone like me.
And it doesn’t matter how many mistakes you end up making. Because humans aren’t perfect, and it doesn’t take Sherlock to figure that out. Life is a rocky road of ups and downs and potholes and trips and falls and stumbles and bruises and beatings and broken bones and blood and sweat and tears and failures and misery and emotion.
But you know what?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
What is success without failure?
What is happy without sad?
‘Well you don’t know what I am going through. I’d rather be eternally happy than be who I am right now!’
Don’t let your brain play tricks on you. You know you’ve got this. You know that when you emerge from the other side of whatever struggle you’re facing, you’ll look back bigger and better and stronger than ever before.
You know that when you tumble again you will be better prepared, better equipped, better able to break your fall and limit your wounds. I know it. And so do you.
If you’re ever having trouble finding your feet, not knowing what to do, how to do it, think of this: try and be good. Aim for good. Not fantastic, not brilliant, not outstandingly spectacular (and, by the same measure, not bad or evil or anything of the sort!) but good.
‘And what is good?’ I hear you ask.
That, my friend, is another story for another day.
Till next time 🙂
*from the article mentioned at the top of this post.
depressiondeconstructed 