Running from ourselves

Tiny room

Imagine you’re in an enclosed room. So tiny it’s claustrophobic. There are no exits. The walls aren’t really walls, they’re reflectors. The floor and ceiling too are made of the same material. There’s no running out of it.

These reflectors show whatever is inside of you in the form of images.

Hopes. Wishes. Dreams. Goals.  All the good things everyone likes to think of. Your best triumphs. Hardest won victories. Favorite memories.

The pictures run together so quickly it’s like watching a movie.

But we aren’t one dimensional.

With the good comes the bad. More images come. Fears and regrets. Our worse insecurities. Heartbreaks and failures. Reliving your most horrific experiences. Your most painful and lonely days, recreated. Down to the very last terrifying detail you’ve spent so much accumulated time trying to forget.

But the mining doesn’t stop there. Because we aren’t two dimensional either.

The images change once again.

It’s your reflection. Perhaps not the one you’re accustomed to. You’re stripped of anything that isn’t the complete truth. Nothing made up. No lies. Or partial truths. They aren’t any walls to cover your vulnerabilities.  No secrets.

No running or hiding

The things you love and hate about yourself splayed out in plain view. A panorama of every inch and fiber of your being, being dissected, turned over, analyzed. You realize that burying your still beating feelings is not an option anymore. You have to face the best and worse parts of yourself. And then it dawns on you… You no longer can run from yourself.

Do you think you could handle an experience like that?

For me, the answer would be a resounding, “NO.”

Even with the positive side of things mixed in there it just doesn’t sound like something I could ever endure without developing a serious case of PTSD.

There’s so much about myself that I wish wasn’t me. So much about me that I hardly let anyone see. There’s so many hopes and dreams I tell myself to forget because the realist in me says they’ll never happen. And a lot of times it’s hard to remember my best days because I was always happy then but not anymore. And heck, whoever wants to relive their most horrific experiences?

Like a counterfeit

Shoving emotions is a huge problem of mine. Disconnect and isolation are my defense mechanisms. I hate facing my fears.

But of course, they are. Running is easier than facing. Walls are easier than being vulnerable. Why share how I’m feeling when bottling up inside means no one gets hurt and I won’t be ridiculed?

These bad habits aren’t solutions. Obviously. They leave me feeling alienated. Like a counterfeit. A hollow cut out of who I really am.

I know I’m not the only one who feels like this. And I know that I’m not the only one who likes to run from their self. We’re creating holes in ourselves by doing so. Digging up our essence to bury what we don’t want to face. Which creates landmines if you will. Because feelings buried alive never die.

Tired of running?

Our personal landmines can only be scattered so far between before we’re bound to step on one.

Maybe it’s time to improvise one of those tiny rooms. Maybe it’s time we force ourselves to deal with our landmines.

Remember that quote from the beginning of this post?

If you need a refresher here it is, “What you gaze upon you become.”

If we’re too busy trying to forget and bury who we really are inside instead of looking in the mirror and refining ourselves, how do we expect to become the best version of ourselves?

The answer is simple. You can’t.

So, I hope you’ll spend your time thinking about the best you can be. I hope when you gaze into your reflection you’ll see who you hope to become and have the courage to be that person. No matter how many landmines you have to remove before you get there.

I get that fear is crippling. Hope can be too.

But I’m tired of running. And if you are too, well it’s never too late to start facing what you’re running from.

-Kay