While browsing through Instagram, looking for cats videos, this image popped into my feed. Usually, 9gag offers fun pics, but this one hit too close to home.
I am in an endless self reflecting loop anyway for reasons that I would not write right now, but this kind of gave those thoughts an unneeded boost.
Its said by some people that a boy becomes a man when his world is ending and he realises that there is nobody out there to save him-he needs to do it himself.Although I can’t remember when it was the last time someone was there to “save me”, as I wrote on my safety net post, I don’t know why I don’t feel quite like a man either.
Is it too late for me to reenact these thoughts?
I always found it difficult to assess the appropiate moment reaction. So naturally, people’s intentions in emotionally challenged moments are a gamble for me, which I don’t always win. I am sure that there were people who wanted to be there for me but I could not get the message from everyone, just as I couldn’t make my message clear back to them. Sometimes they also needed help but I did not know how/when to provide it.
Just remembering some of these situations makes me realise that I died more than once, full of regret. And I managed to rebirth myself everytime and although some of the pain stayed behind, the regret followed me everywhere.
And while typing this I realise I do what I usually do, tip toe around the matter at hand and skilfully change the topic until it passess. I guess that is difficult to put trust in yourself and people after you get burned from a young age.
Sure, I am not all innocent myself-and this is something I need to accept living with. But oh God, how much I wished some things were different..
Doing things all by your lonesome ain’t too bad either sometimes. If you win or fail, is all on you, nobody to blame, nobody to take the credit for it either (although, we “clowns” have a tendency to not be good at giving ourselves credit either).
I know what I wrote in the beggining that part of being a man is saving yourself, but there was also a moment and time to do that. Maybe, as a child it wasn’t the appropiate one and this is how I dwelved into coping mechanisms which pretty much made a weirdo out of me, but helped me survive, if only.
Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t had been better if I offed myself long time ago, when I was flirting with death, and honestly..I don’t know. I wish I could 100% say no, but I am at somewhere 50-60%.
But embracing your trauma is part of becoming an adult. Everyone had their own and while some experienced bigger traumas than others, everyone coped with it in their own way. If it wasn’t for this, then me, this version of myself, would’ve never existed. And I might’ve ended up better, but might as well been worse-there’s not knowing and there’s no point knowing, either.
For now, I will just like to forget.
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