Re-examination
Recently–both in the near-recent and the far-recent–I’ve missed the feeling of self discovery I once found through writing. Occasionally I’ll ‘pick up the keyboard’ (as the phrase may go) and try to discover something about myself. Mostly it doesn’t work. Tonight I may have discovered something, but even if I didn’t it felt good to write. It spurred a searching of old emails and a re-reading of a long dialog I had with an old ex.
Interestingly enough the dialog begin because she had stumbled upon my original ‘blog,’ (produced wholly within a self-created php blog engine!) found herself mentioned numerous times, and taken issue with the light in which I had portrayed her. It was a fair complaint. But, then, so were my lighting decisions.
Nothing came of this dialog. It was clear then, as it had been clear fresh out of that relationship, that we were different. And what I did was place a lot of blame on the hardship of that relationship upon her.
You see, at a young age I had come to the habit of presenting myself as wise beyond my years. Being a frequenter of MMOs at the time (and, indeed, this being the original meeting place of myself and this ex) I had ample opportunity to hone this habit. And it affected our relationship greatly. For in my ongoing attempts to appear mature I managed to convince her that I was. She, being my senior, treated the relationship as any other. And so when I saw faults in her or in us, instead of handling them maturely I buried them. So handy at this was I that I managed to stretch what should’ve been over within a matter of months to a gruelling period of almost 2 years (such a number I merely guess at). Impressive, no?
And then, tragically, it ended! Acting the part of a mature person, I did my best to make up reasons for the relationship’s failure. I think my repeated stabs at pinning down the ‘culprit’ came close to the truth a number of times, but I was so caught up in not letting such a failed relationship ruin me that I ignored its effect on me. No, it wasn’t like this one single event changed my life, but the shell I had been in my entire life (growing up as a shy person, that is)–a hole out of which I mislabeled this relationship–remained and I was so trying to claim myself unaffected and unchanged that I let it harden, let it scar up. A mistake I believe I took with me through the years, and may still be making today.
To call it ’shyness’ isn’t to explore it fully, but my own perspective it will serve the purpose. Perhaps writing again, assuming it keep it up (which I never do), will define it further and deliver me from it.