Tug

I guess I'm learning to accept that this is who I am: this flaky, inconsistent, depressive mess of a human being.   There's no anger in this acceptance, unlike the pretend acceptance that's really a comic observation of  my bad behavior with subtexts of genuine self-hate and self-disgust.

And by accept I don't mean I accept that this is all I'll ever be. I'm not blind, I've got several good things going on about my life, so there's no ingratitude there. All I've ever had was an impossibly demanding measuring stick, unlike the measuring stick I use for other people. I don't really know who taught me that it was okay to be this cruel to yourself.

By accept I mean to know my self apart from the me doing the knowing. Thandie Newton did this TED Talk some time ago, all about getting over yourself and how important you think you are and how important you REALLY are or can be, if you can only realize that you are not a discrete unit, separate from others, but something that breathes through the universe as part of a beautiful, boundless cosmic performance: as real and as eternal and as impenetrable as every single moment in this specific rendering of time.

I feel so new. I just wanted you to know. To come to this after a week that could have broken my spirit, is really why it's so amazing to be living in these times. I'm still a version of myself that I like, and this is why pain is worth it.