Blog-style piece
I’ve been thinking.. self-awareness that I hide behind, feeling feelings (or not), films that had an impact, relating. Poetry and writing
Quite a few weeks ago, when Valentines excitement was in the air, I started thinking about my favourite rom coms, or meaningful, love-related moments in films:
That moment in The Wedding Singer when Adam Sandler’s character sings I Wanna Grow Old With You to Drew Barrymore’s Julia.
When Pacey and Joey dance together in Dawson’s Creek (*if you know, you know) and he tells her ‘I remember everything’. This is years before they, sensibly and rightfully, ‘ended up’ together!
(Although, I am also the cynic who wonders what really happens after the credits stop rolling!)
An Ally McBeal moment :
When Ally talks to her best friend, Renee, about her and ex Billy making love.
They had eye contact during.
Ally tells Renee that it feels dishonest looking someone in the eye whilst having sex if you don’t love them and that her and Billy were, almost, locked into each other.
Then, my mind (as it does) drifted to a Robin Williams film, with vivid colours and difficult dynamics. A film that is hard to watch.
(*Oh to be an overthinker of the nineties and early noughties)
What Dreams May Come
In the film, Cuba Gooding Jr. says something that could be a perfect analogy for therapy and for a relationship with yourself.
Robin Williams’ dream universe is formed in his own mind and these are the observations.
No windows.
What aren’t you ready to see, I wonder?
What Dreams May Come
I’ve also been thinking a lot about my writing and the importance of what feels true.
There’s a level of self-awareness that I hide behind
I feel shame.
In some ways how I was treated
In lots of others how I acted
Reacted.
My discomfort centres around
How I was feeling one thing
and presenting another way.
I hold back on feeling, dissociate, or intellectualise in therapy.
Maybe feelings are a muscle to be warmed. Reassured.
Used.
Grow more comfortable with.
I find it hard to be deeply and profoundly vulnerable, even when I think I want to be.
Then, I’ve shamed myself over this.
It’s a viscous cycle.
I want to unmask completely (when safe to do so) and be totally myself, evolving and changing, as we all do.
It feels like there is so much pressure on women to be whatever some deem ‘perfect’ to be. I resent this.
Overworking, never relaxing.
Not being present and allowing the compassion, space and time to work on healing from trauma.
We are deserving of happiness.
Or, calm. More settled cortisol levels.
Worthy of peace.
..
I choose to be loud, now
in my ADHD
Shall I just be, Tara, size?
Not cut myself off.
As society tells me to do.
I made a maze out of me
..
I’m a huge fan of Robbie Williams and recently watched ‘Better Man’.
I go on stage and pretend the whole world is lucky to see me
Robbie Williams Better Man
The movie shows a young Robbie craving acceptance and love. His father is an entertainer and he longs for applause himself. What matters is not performing, but ‘other people loving you doing it’.
The idea of putting on a persona.
Of feeling quiet self loathing, but ‘coming alive’ (or not, and feeling unsafe) on stage. I felt there was a real honesty and vulnerability shown in the film. And beautifully.
There is such value in truth and I love how powerfully, and naturally, Robbie Williams speaks about mental health, mental illness, trauma and addictions.
..
For so much of my life, I craved acceptance and being appreciated for who I truly am. This can be confusing, at times, when you’re not sure of this, and when you ruminate on questioning your own worth.
There’s also the inner knowing, though, that I wanted to create my own path.
That came from somewhere in the universe, or deep inside me.
Often I would hide, metaphorically, or isolate
I can hide away (sometimes when I need to and other times maybe not), for quite an openly extroverted (and reflective, introverted) person - I would withdraw.
(*at times, around certain people)
So badly, I wanted a life that felt as if it was away from the pressure of comparison and judgement. Always wanting my own little magic (and separate) spaces, that I could be in, without anyone bothering me.
But, I sought approval and looked for self-esteem in anything outside of my inner self. In all the things, I felt, I was ‘failing’ at.
Massive imposter syndrome.
I needed to just ‘fake it’.
This* invisible monster, and fraud of a human being, was my curse. And I wanted to fight against it.
The relationship with myself and lack of self esteem bled into every dream that I had. I saw my truths, and energy, through the eyes of those who, I felt, wouldn’t (and couldn’t) see them.
Me, this awful irritant (some sarcasm, here)
I never put my finger on one specific example or one ‘why’.
This was my overall sense.
(*perceived by me.
I could never ‘fix’ me and didn’t need, or want, to be fixed).
Separate and Never Enough
..
Wanting to be wanted and important to someone. Loved.
Maybe you know that they (a person or people), can’t offer you this in the way that you need.
It’s like breaking up with someone, who you care about or feel drawn back to, but you know it’s just not right. You see the person afterwards and it hurts just a little bit, but is also exquisitely, dramatically beautiful, well..
‘Used to’ the emotional hurt
(this does not make it good)
Maybe that’s similar to younger, more volatile, extreme, emotional and unhealthy relationships. You want calm, peace and unspoken acceptance, really.
But, it hurts when you keep hoping for love and acceptance from the same people, time after time.
Inaction is their action in some ways.
I have felt not listened to.
So, I repeat things.
I felt like my words went through them.
Ghost-like.
Sometimes I need to hear things repeated that are emotional truths, in particular. Absorption is the struggle.
In the way that, I felt, others couldn’t absorb me. (Or that I made for, uneasy, viewing).
I often give too repetitive explanations and phrases.
As a younger person, in particular, I was around others that were academically very intelligent and this was valued highly.
Those know this. It isn’t a secret.
There were comparisons made (I felt) and I wanted to create and carve my own routes, needing these to be separate.
Mine. For me.
..
poetry..
Swelling You freeze them, to relieve them These swollen feet My body fights me feeling In the pursuit of emptiness But, what does numb teach? What I think I don’t need to talk about and am dismissive of Then threatens me with a nightmare Reminding me to do the job My body working against me When these cells of skin and muscle are my house Years of conspiring To inflict numbness Rousing lines and bars of memories A chorus and a cacophony Needs, shut off and released in split seconds, of screaming The numbness is so loud ..
This picture
The Taker of the Photo after Donna Ashworth - no one ‘just has’ to have me in this one
At times, there’s been a sadness when I’m taking photos of others together. These magic snapshots of moments in time, that are precious.
I am happy to take them, often suggesting it.
I also love and appreciate these gorgeous time stamps, but there are multiple feelings (that can all be true) around this.
Deep down, a loneliness, from feeling I don’t ‘fit’ or didn’t belong.
This was my perception.
I’m not needed in a picture in the same way (as others might be).
I remember feeling like an afterthought, but also a noisy inconvenience. An intriguing or strange being.
There’s an uncomfortableness around the balance between both of these things.
In my head, I came out of most situations looking ‘bad’. Convenient, probably, for the intense, and self-critical, rollercoaster of loathing that I was on.
And I’m scared of rollercoasters!
..
The photo: It’s not ‘not the same’ without me.
There are friends I fit and belong with.
I make sepia and classic snapshot recordings in my head, of internal squealing joy sound bites. Is there a full visual? Not really, no.
A vibe, yes.
Fleeting and poignant. I, both, forget and romanticise life, seeing so much beauty in relaxation, being present (in snippets) and in human connection.
..
I wrote all about ‘The Taker of the Photo’ after
and posted it on Instagram. My life being beautiful in different ways.Meeting people who I matter to (and ending up taking photos of people with families, partners and children. Understandably.)
I wrote an After poem:
..
Feel
..
You smell of safety
and warmth
Foot clap in my mind
leaving the house
I dance in drizzle
Which feels like sparkle
Just being me
and not needing to
show my worth
when I open my mouth
...
Images with poetry: Image credits Canva
People I value so much and what they mean to me..
MAGIC MOMENTS
Was I a superficial poser, who was awful at everything I did. All the worst things you can think about anyone, I either thought them or questioned them, about myself