Though I did see grace, comfort, hope, I first had to see me.
It set me off inward, looking to myself – my past experiences, my internalized others, my own incapacities, insecurities, inner contradictions. What I came to was actually already an explosion. The spark that set it was the previous hurdle – I found it unsettling because I felt that I was being forced to be sure about something I wasn’t sure about.
Sure, I have hopes for the future. Some days my image of a future self inspires me. On most days though it gives me a picture of how much of a long way I’ve yet to go. On most days I forget the “yet” and rigidly settle with “I am not.” On most days I am overwhelmed by the seemingly abysmal gap between who I am now and who I want to be. On most days I am plagued by self-doubt – a healthy dose of self-doubt is needed as it helps anyone to be grounded and to be realistic and to grow, but my self-doubt seems to be the kind of self-suicide; the kind that paralyzes and brings all hopes and dreams to perish.
What if nothing comes out of all this hard work? What if I will never be ever good enough to be who I want to be? What if I don’t have what it takes? What if everything I’m doing are just attempts to prove something? To prove that I can, to prove that I do have what it takes, to prove that I’m worth something? Then if that’s the case, it’s all just a defense mechanism. It’s not all real.
What if they’re right in saying — their lips don’t say it but their eyes show it — that I’m wrong? That this is a mistake? A lost cause? A futile endeavor? A waste of time and energy and resources?
In the moment of this discovery though, it felt like you sat with me. You were beside me on the grass, looking out to where I was looking, listening as my heart spoke, and listened all the more even when my heart could no longer bear to speak. A friend who thought it best to simply sit with me in silence. To not offer any advice. To not say anything. Because it was only in so doing that I could feel accepted. Assured.
I was trying so hard to hear your voice, but what I actually needed to hear was your silence. A kind of silence that silenced all other voices. A silence that made me not do or be anything else. A silence that made me feel accepted for who I was, just as I was. A silence that reassured me of grace, comfort, and hope. Just when I thought I had lost much of it.
I am incarcerated, Imprisoned in the Fortress Of the False Self. I look inside, I don’t like what I see. Too much of this, Too little of that. I come up with all sorts of Pretensions, pretenses, defenses. I ask, Where do I go to escape from myself? You say, Come to Me. Come to Me. How beautiful it is to be able to Come to You just as I am When I cannot even Come to me just as I am.