I am a microscopic peon obsessed with the grains of sand in the details. I have a myriad of mental and emotional instabilities. I fixate on things outside of my control (which is nearly everything). If you haven’t seen me in a bit there is a sure fire chance that I am isolating myself away from everyone developing new reaches of psychosis.
When left to my own devices I will starve before I trust anyone or anything. Given the choice between enjoying a picnic and staring into the absolute obsidian of the abyss I tend to choose the latter.
This is an admission. I hear that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. So from this point forward I consider myself a recovering……..person. I am a recovering human being.
I know for certain that hoping these traits of mine will eventually vanish within the quicksand of my interior wilderness is a lost cause. Ignoring the ways and inclinations of my personality only hastens the occurrences of these imbalances rearing their ugly heads.
This human condition can weigh heavily about our shoulders in a multitude of fashions. Some of us are naturally dead set and blessed with positive mindsets towards life as skin covered molecule conventions. Others of us (ME, for instance) take up our condition as a burden that must be carried, without help, until relieved by forever.
I have tried to romanticize the way I internalize existence by claiming that I am philosophical or a poet or a realist or an over thinker or Paul Thomas Anderson’s long lost brother. This rationale simply runs out of gas. The mind and spirit exhaust when used as a diesel engine for a sin filled mechanism.
I don’t know exactly why I am the things I am admitting to you. Maybe it’s part history and genetics. Maybe it’s the time we live in. Maybe it is one hundred percent my choosing because I think it is what I deserve.
This is the embrace part.
The measure of the affects my design flaws have on me is equal to how much I have not allowed myself to be known or loved. I wish it were more complex than this but I am learning that there is more dignity in vulnerability than in pride (see first paragraph).
It is not up to my own strength alone to fix my extremities. I am broken. My mind is severely crooked and my heart has evil tendencies. That is what “my strength” has gotten me.
I must embrace in love what I can not fix. I must surrender the tools of my hatred and be a friend to the disturbed factions within me.
Recognition of myself in my most vulnerable human state and looking on what I see with love is how I learn to live with myself in acceptance that I may grow into health.
When I focus on my flaws and issues without hope or love I withdraw to isolation. The weight of my soul’s predicament crushes me.
This is why I am striving to learn to recognize my predicament within my person but not dwell on the weight of the implications.
I must use this recognition as a call to engage in more community and release myself from the obsession of details. The inner workings of our souls and this world are important but when I zoom in and stare for too long I lose perspective on reality.
When I share my journey with others and encourage those around me it balances and focuses my awareness in the right direction.
This openness pulls me out of the trenches of the traits that I can allow to befall me. The traits I have recognized and admitted I possess can become points of strength when I bring them into the light of community. I must know myself and allow myself to be know by others in community.
My fixation can be turned to giving of my energy to those who need to be reminded of their worth. My obsession can become loving the down trodden.
My feelings of instability can become grounds for me to relate in connection to others who may feel the same. My propensity to isolate can become a revelation of just how much I need community. My mistrust can be surrendered knowing that pain is inevitable but love is a sacrifice that must be made.
Changing the worst things about me start with embracing the hurting parts of my life that produce them. The worst things can now become healed and new.
My name is Rhett and I am a recovering person. I don’t want to admit it but I need you. I need help. I think we all might. I vow to live in this admission and embrace and hope we get the chance to cross paths as recovering humans one day.