Midnight Pub

Dismissing Dismissing


Do you think you're the type to dismiss? Dismiss... thoughts, feelings, hobbies, people, work, education. Literally anything. The Problems. I would say I came to that realization recently, but it wasn't *new* information... It never was, when you're too self aware for your own good! But that's the problem too. You *think* you're self aware, but still don't even realize... you've dismissed that you're dismissing SO much, so much that you got it locked in the subconscious. Behind some foggy wall you cant even bear to swim through after over two decades of living.

This isn't a personal detailed post (like, real real details). But there is something very different, something strange when you're reminded you are not as aware as you think. I try not to feel overly confident- not to think "oh, I know myself so well, I don't need help"- thats not what I do (and of course I'm getting help, I see three therapists for Christ's sake). But you think you're smart in your own body, you own it after all. You grew it.

You made that body. It is odd. You make the brain do what it does. You imagine the mind inside it. Whatever it looks like, you'd want to think you go in there enough to make some sense of it. It almost feel like betrayal to get hit with that realization. Even worse, when you're told you have a problem, that *this* is the way you act... What more can you think than being so aware that you are put off by every action you make going forward?

You're doing what the paper says. Stop doing what the paper says! You shouldn't do that, you know its a problem now. But no, no. This sucks, I shouldn't think too hard about it, I need to move away and ignore this horrible anxiety, I can't face it. No, wait, there it is again. Textbook. A stupid tangled web with string so strong you couldn't cut them years and years later.

But it is a miracle to be sitting in my shape no matter where it is. I don't hate it, I never hate myself. I live in the body I have and I do want to fix it. I might fight the words set out for me, ones left open and undecided and unsolved, but I know I can finish sentences. I love writing after all.