Here I sit, in some ways shattered, in others fully and completely self-actualized. I pace the kitchen - from the cupboard to the computer, from Facebook back to the cupboard as emotions and turmoil, despair and helplessness, eat at my insides. Somehow, being in constant motion helps me to not have to acknowledge the putrid wound still oozing deep and thick within me - wounds of anger, incredulity, sadness, exhaustion, weakness, abandonment. Wounds.
For I have come so far; I have found freedom of a kind. I know I've found peace, grace, identity, joy and laughter; I've forged friendships, navigated endless days and weeks of thickening, stifling discord, and found myself on the other side of indecision. I have discovered existential happiness of a kind I never knew existed.
Or have I? I no longer feel hopeless, but I am still empty; I no longer feel sadness, but I am lost in melancholy. I no longer see battles, but I feel like I've lost the war; and in many ways I feel ragged, aching and as though I've settled. Fragmented. Disjointed. Undone.
Knowing me, I will leap from incredible swells of wisdom back down into the depths of murky water until I release myself from such momentary bouts with darkness. For I do not stay down long; coded so strongly within the fiber of my being is a soul that thrives in echoes of laughter. Laughter is my drug, elixir, life-source. I was not made for sadness and though it seeps into the corners of my heart, the overwhelming complexity and desire to exist within joy wins the fight time and time again. Buoyant. Seeking. Delicious. Contagious.
Determined.
And so I realize with startling clarity some of the basis of this condition: Fraudulence. The truth of the matter is, the closer I come to fullness of self, soul and life, regardless of the current difficulties I find myself within, the more I come face to face with inner demons which taunt and sneer, suggesting otherwise. Crying fraud, denouncing my right to wholeness. And in so doing, welcome a twisted fear that just might prove I was damaged goods to begin with. And then the cycle begins in full swing toward the daunting challenge of continually endeavoring to redesign internal, authentic identity and substantiate otherwise. Full disclosure of a sort that simulates a full-body scan, every moment, every encounter so as to disprove and dispel any effort toward deceit.
Which then has this girl, whose propensity toward self-examination bordering the absurd, seriously considering the concept of fraud: Is it fraudulent to seek a better, stronger version of ourselves? Is it fraudulent to reach for something that we were told we could not be? Are we only ever proving our fraudulence when we succumb to the vices, the slide of thought, the sadness, the stasis - no matter how long we went without, moved on, or lived in peace?
Does one step backward completely eliminate any advancement of self and thus corroborate the initial assessment?
For those of us engaged in a concerted effort toward self-actualization, do we ultimately set ourselves up for failure? In mistakenly believing or accepting someone else's flawed perspective of who we are (or more importantly, their self-projections), do we inevitably court defeat since we approach life with every step focused toward proving otherwise? And therefore, when we fall short of a desire or goal, or feel as though that one person or persons we wish to acknowledge and love us the way we want to, simply don't - is this why we feel consigned to failure? Do we yet understand our worthiness was never ever up to anyone else to consider? Have we finally figured out that living a life of pleasing and approval is one that cannot, will not, ever, ever bring us peace?
And more, do we treat others in like manner? Do we confine them to a box we have built for ourselves? Are the labels and the angst of proving our identity only ever pounded into being by disallowing others their own growth?
I think we are taught from a multitude of sources - whether from our youth, comparisons within parenting styles, or evaluating and pursuing career potential - that we are inherently deficient. It is a common-place, social protocol to believe it ill-mannered to bask in whole space and enjoy our own achievements. We've all bought into and supported a standard that says that anyone who lives within every day expressions of happiness must either have it all, be hiding something, or be exceptionally self-centered and egotistical. That's certainly convoluted. And yet true. And disastrous in the results of personal esteem and the collective health of ourselves, marriages, children, connections and nation.
Family, community, media - even religion - all seem to have adopted a placard to that effect. It is little wonder that at any sign of indiscretion, imperfection or mistake, we feel compelled to point it out before others can, just to be certain that we show visible concern that we don't appear too self-righteous for fear of offending anyone else. Just to be certain that no one thinks us egocentric, too happy, or - gasp! Fake.
I am courting the darker side of self - the distended caricature that I have owned since high school; it's my go-to source when I cannot cope with adversity. This woman who appears to have beauty, intelligence and energy, walks within the mind of the fat, awkward girl at the age of fifteen - the girl her aunt labeled as only every having a "regal figure" while at the same time eager to borrow her clothes. Jealousy and yet belittling all at once. And this girl valiantly demands the rights to a new basis of self. The more society, fear, and internal language mocks and whispers otherwise, she battles an external slide in that direction.
And so the return to the definition of fraudulence. Although media, religion, community and family all teach similar themes of encouragement and worth, it remains unpopular to support vitality and wholeness past that. All concentration centers on flaws, discovery and correction to that end. So, I ask the question, what if it is fraudulent to undermine the perfectness of self?
When we reach for something that tears us apart or use language that would make ourselves small so as not to offend or intimidate others, what if that is the fraudulence? And if we lived life based on this reversal of definition, how many times a day would we catch ourselves in demeaning behavior? Would we finally realize how convoluted our society is and would our internal self find a sweet anarchy of freedom?
And so begins a conscious journey to live within the exercise of pure spirit; to bend the rules and allow for the possibility that not only living whole but living large is indeed acceptable. That it is not fraudulent to broadcast, applaud or champion others to do the same.
I say, Emerge.
Become. I know I will. I am force. I am Carman. I am grace, boldness, determination and strength. I am laughter and exuberance, soul and generosity. I am unconventional, prone to tell it like it is, and known for sharing way too much. And yet... I am Freedom.
Love this Life you live; live it fully and unapologetically. More than that - encourage others to do the same.
XO,
Bec
- Living Joy - This Carman Girl
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