I’m still having trouble sitting down to write. I have so much I want to say, but all the words I type feel blocky, obtuse - just not me. I’ve been sitting with this for weeks now, and I figure the best thing to do is write about not writing. Very Dao of me, eh?
It’s tough to pinpoint exactly what it is that’s creating this block. I work a more demanding job and train like a psychopath every day, and that makes me tired by day’s end, but not that tired. I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t have the time. It’s just this subtle, weird thing. It’s a mix between procrastination and apathy. My heart is at peace (somewhat) for the first time in a long time, and I feel myself using that as an excuse. It’s almost like if I’m happy, I don’t believe what I have to say holds as much weight (at least that’s what it feels like), so I might as well say nothing at all. Only when I’m in the throes of despair and darkness will my words resonate and pack the “right” punch. The question I have for myself is, why do I only feel worthy when I’m in pain? I guess Batman would be proud.
What I do know is that this is a golden opportunity for me to break through narratives I’ve held since childhood - that I must struggle for love, that I must bear the unbearable in order to be of value, that I must conquer my demons alone before anyone else can love me. It’s difficult to admit this, but I’ve been trying to “earn” love since I was a young boy. Whether it was through perfect grades, perfect athletic performance or a perfect physique, there has always been a voice in the back of my head prodding me to prove I’m not worthless. It doesn’t matter where this voice came from, only that it exists and it has driven so much of my life. Granted, there have been many positives that have come from this, but now in my adulthood I’m reaching the point where that voice no longer serves any useful purpose. Out with old, in with the new.
What if the best I have to offer isn’t on the other side of suffering? It’s almost comical how frightening that thought is. I’ve always thought that saying “love me for me” was painfully cringe, but I now see that I need to allow the world to love me. There’s nothing more to prove - no - there was never anything to prove to begin with. I am worthy - just like each and every one of you.
Even writing this now, there’s a voice in my head that’s seething. I think that voice is my ego, constantly wanting me to prove how great I am, how I can overcome any obstacle, how I’m bulletproof. In the end, it’s all for the desire to simply be loved. If I put down the sword and take off the armor, I can look around and see how much love there already is. A wonderful family, the best friends a man can ask for, and lovers who have truly loved me. The blessings abound, yet I sit here fighting this battle. Problem is, it’s already been won.
I didn’t know what was going to come out tonight, but this sure feels right. I will continue to write from a place of peace and serenity, and I’ll see what I become. I do hope you join me for the ride.
-D
You just dropped a couple lines that would have taken thousands of dollars in therapy to get to. Great piece!