Losing Myself

I’ve never been a big sharer. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always preferred not being noticed or remembered by anyone. This isn’t the same thing as being introverted; it’s like my depressive mind seeks to devour and destroy all aspects of myself, including that which I create. As a result, I realize that there is very little about myself that I leave anywhere. If a person is what they leave behind, I don’t really exist.

The problem I have with this is that in my more lucid moments I feel like I have or will lose important parts of myself forever. Although some teachers encouraged me to keep journals when I was younger, any of those records I made got lost through calculated neglect on my part. Even fiction that I wrote – which always contains trace parts of myself – has been annihilated because it contained hints of my existence. This constant battle to save and destroy records of myself even makes me reluctant to have pictures taken of me or to be mentioned anywhere in any capacity.

It has only been recently that I’ve developed a desire to reflect on who I am as a person. I can’t do that fully without reflecting on who I was as a person. So much in my life has shaped me into the creature that types this, and most of my recollections contain negative impressions of myself. Any happy memories I have or positive developments are hard to bring forth. Just trying to dredge them out involves traveling across a horrific memory landscape. Although I want to remember what has got me here, I don’t want to just remember the fear and terror that drives me.

Does this mean that as a person, I am doomed to lose the best parts of myself? Or is it a product of my depressive thinking? What makes me give up trying to do anything for myself is this inescapable feeling that I am doing all of this in the most macabre sense of futility. Self reflection for me is like a bull fight. My memories are a bull that gets wounded until it cannot be too dangerous, and then the matador of my self-hatred comes out and does what he always does to rapturous applause.

And I don’t have tangible evidence to make any of it stop.

6 thoughts on “Losing Myself

  1. Thank you for telling us, SB; it’s a first step in becoming visible. Do know that we see you, and we appreciate what we see. I am certain that you are not the only one here who has been invisible. It takes courage to show ourselves, but when we find our tribe and we give them a glimpse of who we are, we find acceptance from them, which opens us up to accepting ourselves.

    When I express self-hatred for who I was, my therapist reminds me that that person fought hard to become who I am now. I owe her a debt of gratitude.

    The person I am now is fighting hard for the person I will become.

    The person you are now is fighting hard for the person you will become.

    It is an honor for us to witness your struggle, and to perhaps help you through it. Your writing has certainly helped me in mine, and I am grateful.

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  2. Very interesting. I can relate. When I was younger I fiercely guarded any information to do with me. Even completely useless information. Like at a restaurant my grandmother would ask what I was going to order, and I wouldn’t say, or I’d say something that wasn’t actually what I was going to order.
    This is no more and no less than a self-preservation mechanism. What you do not show cannot be judged. And if it can’t be judged, it can’t be used against you now or later.
    Have you considered keeping a private blog? I keep drafts that I’ll never publish- and sometimes never go back to, but the option is there.

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    • I can’t do private blogs because they’re easier to delete. The fear that someone will ask me if something is missing helps keep some of what I publish out and about. I’m not sure if that’s healthy or not.

      And I used to hate when people asked me what I was going to order at a restaurant. When I was younger, I’d bullshit them because I hated the fact people might base their order on what I was doing. I still dislike it, but I think it might have to do with just not wanting to accept the fact that people might value what I have to say.

      Liked by 1 person

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