This was me 10 years ago. A journal entry from July 2, 2010 to be exact.This was how I perceived things, how I dealt with the emotional baggage that unfortunately was borne out of childhood trauma. But by the grace of God, I was changed.
When I woke up this morning, I found myself dragging my body up to face the world. It was a beautiful Thursday morning. Not too sunny compared to the previous days of humidity, just a gentle breeze softly playing the curtains in the room. I asked myself, wherever did my enthusiasm for life gone? Where was that longing to start the day and step out of the house to chase my dreams? Did life itself drain that passion from me? Am I the only one responsible of pushing myself to exhaustion? Is this just a phase, or am I really at the crevice of hopelessness?
As I live my life everyday, I am faced with the realities of the world, I meet different people, I work with diverse groups. I am confronted with personalities, some difficult to accept, some I am comfortable with. When I was young, I never imagined myself having the courage to put up a mask to cope with different situations. I was stubborn and consistent. I bathe myself with the familiar. And so I never ever thought of changing what I was already used to. I did not care whether other people would get offended by my silence, or by the few cynical and sarcastic thoughts that I sometimes share. As I grow older, I learned to put up a mask. I have come to accept that I cannot please everyone, but I can make them feel that I am pleased with them. And so this whole process of disguise I have lived for so many years. To a person who is naive, I am blunt. To a person who is blunt, I am indignant. To a friend who is pained, I am a shoulder to cry on. To a foe, I am ruthless.
I cannot say that I am a chameleon, because I don’t belong to anything, nothing belongs to me. I was never a part of a group, I am comfortable standing at the edge of the norms that people put up. Just lingering around the corner, not really belonging but just watching. I guess this masks that I put on have their own expiration dates. They don’t really last long. Soon as I am discovered, I change.
But one cannot put up with this charade for so long. It’s mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting. I envy the schizophrenics, or that person with a multiple personality disorder. They have the ability to ward off things that is painful, or too hard to endure. They can change and do what they want and they can get away with it. Now, I feel that my resistance from my true self is finally resigning. If I am on a fugue state, I am finally waking up. All that’s left of me now is a depleted version of my persona.