My endeavor in this blog has always been to ask hard questions of myself, life, God, others. In that, I have tried my very best to be truthful. There have been times in the past when I was being truthful, but it didn’t feel like it. Some people bring that out of me more than others. It must be what gaslighting feels like. People who doubt you so wholly and readily that you start to doubt yourself. Truth that clashes with other parts of your truth. Memories that are deteriorating or colored. I’ve known people who make me doubt that. That make me wonder if I am lying. Maybe just maybe I was being malicious. Maybe just maybe I deceived them.
There have been many times that I have wondered why I have written something or what I meant by it. Many more that I have wondered why I’ve said something. Why did I say that? Did I mean that? Did they hear me correctly or did I say something else and they misheard? There are very few times that I believe myself in those cases. I value my husband deeply in this tangled web of what my reality is. He doesn’t try to guess what I’m thinking or what I meant (he’d say because he’d fail) but instead he asks me. It’s much harder to construct your pattern of thought from scratch when someone else can easily hand you a framework to work with and you can shape your thoughts around it. In the past, I’ve let people say whatever they wanted about me. The rumors of what I’d done were always easiest to disregard because I knew what I’d done and I didn’t care what anyone else said. But thoughts, thoughts are fleeting and wispy. Maybe I did think that. Maybe that was my motive. Maybe. When people begin to manipulate your whys, your reasons, they alter your perception of the world and your self. Your perception of self and perspective on the world is who you are. When people can convince you they are wrong, they erase you.
Some people are very clever at telling you who they want you to be and I fall into the trap of people pleasing far too often. If people insist I am selfish or unstable or disagreeable, I become those things. If people insist that I am malicious and jealous, I act that way. Perhaps my behavior doesn’t change, but my perception of it does. When someone loves you so completely they become mirror, silent and reflecting, you can see yourself and your thoughts clearly. You’re not in love with the reflection but truth of it. You’re not looking at yourself, but the clarity the mirror provides. There isn’t as much anxiety and you can try to be the best version of yourself- the real version. Most people are not like that. They are projectors or artists. Their presence lights you up with pictures that aren’t your own or reinvents you as an image with hollow eyes or crooked lips. It’s dangerous. If you’ve never seen a mirror how can you prove them wrong? If your self concept is based on other people’s renderings averaged into one, how will you know which parts are faithful?
Most of my life had been spent letting people create the mold my spirit would be poured in and taking its shape. It’s an easy life. Then someone like my husband comes along and frees my spirit like pulling playdoh from a mold and asking it what shape it wants to be. Who’s to know? It’s intimidating to have to build yourself. Exhausting. It’s much easier to be molded. Still, I am grateful for his way allowing me to be. His quiet question answers to my questions give me a chance to make decisions for myself. It’s everything. It’s a beautiful open kind of freedom, this love. I value it. Love you babers.