Who Am I Really?

What is said in this video always sets me to ‘verge of tears.’ I don’t usually cry when I listen to or read things like this,  because there is a wall up to the idea. My psyche doesn’t want to see or feel that I…that the human is me, doesn’t even know what that means. It (my psyche) knows that the work is hard to come to such an understanding of who I actually am. I don’t know, perhaps crying would mean admitting that I’d better get to work somehow. And the freeze response kicks in because I have no idea where to start with that.

I am lost and don’t remember when the last time was that I didn’t feel that way. It may have even still been in the womb where I lost who I am, which means that I actually never had the opportunity for a self identity.

This is dark. No wonder the world has been dark for so long.

I know only from a couple audio recordings from when I was about three that I did have some semblance of a self. My voice, it’s so happy. It’s so…well…it’s child like. I can tell that I’m not worried about anyone’s judgment of me. At the time the recordings were done, I would have still been an only child and had my parents to myself.

One part of the recording is me jumping around in the tub. Both parents are there. My dad is talking to me to get me to talk and it seems that I am standing up, as it is the end of the bath. My dad tells me (jokingly) that I’m a nitpicker, in response to something I’d said. And I apparently liked that word and I start to jump up and down in the tub repeating, “Nitpicker mommy, nitpicker.” Over and over again I repeat it.

I wasn’t thinking about whether my mom would be mad at me for splashing around. (She wasn’t and neither was my father.) I wasn’t thinking about how someday the baby that was in my mom’s belly would one day rage at me or that I would bully him for years. I wasn’t thinking about being bullied at school by a nasty nun/teacher or other students. I wasn’t even thinking about how my father had yelled at me on days prior to that.

I was simply doing what I felt.

I don’t have that in me anymore. It was a somewhat gradual loss but at the same time, my self stayed hidden in certain situations and circumstances as I grew up.

Now at 52 I still play small. I have no idea who I am and each day I wake up feeling like I’m living a nightmare. That happy little three year old is so buried, I barely feel her as part of me anymore.
Sure, my circumstances play a part in that. (But who got me here?)

I’m not satisfied in my main relationship. I’ve separated myself from people I used to call my friends. Most of them still live a lifestyle I don’t feel is a good idea for me. I can’t seem to do anything in moderation, let alone discipline myself.

I don’t work, I’m isolated and I breathe cigarette smoke from the apartment below. But all those things don’t contribute half as much to my loneliness and feelings of being trapped as the fact that I have no clue as to who I really am.

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