maybe i should have told you long ago
it is not often that i have the courage to turn back and examine myself through my correspondance. that is, to flip back in my journal and read all of the things i have written so feverishly, to scroll down the page and confront the things that i have written and that so many of you have read and interpreted. to open the box where i keep all of your letters and turn them over in my hands, breathing you in like you are still there in my life, if only through this thing that you have sent me.
it is because i am filled with terror and expectation. it is because sometimes i cannot recognize myself when i look back. this is the ultimate fear of my life, this inability to define my own identity. how do i know who i am if i cannot remember being myself?
this, at least partly, is where my historically intense need for total companionship comes from. obviously it is not the only cause--there are many things in my culture which teach me to seek togetherness and ultimate fulfillment from another person. yet it is this other thing too, this dis/ability of mine to find myself only in others, to rely on the identification of myself through the perception of others. it is like that fascination of seeing a photo of yourself that you did not know was being taken, or glimpsing your reflection unexpectedly and that moment of recognizing yourself as others see you, unaware.
and so looking back at how i have expressed myself, at the written results of the experience of my life, i see my own true reflection. as true as i am able, i suppose, through the filters of memory and time.
and i see a lot of disrespect. i know that it is more useful to be gentle with myself, and so please don't see this as self-deprecation. it's not. and the perspective i have gained over the last year is no place to make judgements from. but i want to say that i am sorry to all of you who know me and read this. it can't have been very easy to be my friend when i have always been so bad at asking for help and so quick to express my depression. i know i have lost friends for this.
i can't go back and explain everything. i can't even explain what the past couple of years have been to me. it is all too much to say, too much for me to try to think about and swallow and spit out for you. but there are a few things that i want to say:
i am taking better care of myself. this includes both the physical me and the mental me, who are gradually getting to know one another. it is a crazy thing, this seperation i have developed between my mind and body. this seperation of perception, really. and confronting that has provided new pathways towards health and away from destructiveness. i am certainly not now, nor do i expect ever to be, free from the crushing debilitation of depression and anxiety which has wreaked so much havoc over my life and the people who have loved me. but i am finally able to take some responsibility over myself, to wake up in the morning and continue. to be alone without crying over it. to look back at myself, a year ago, swallowing tranquilizers with alcohol, and feel shock.
this is not an excuse. i just want to say to you, i'm sorry if i hurt you, if i pushed you away, if i was passive-aggressive and cold. i'm sorry if i took all of the hurt i felt inside of me out on you somehow. i am doing better now. better enough that i see these things coming and am able to examine and deal with my feelings without damaging myself or others. i don't feel the mania so much anymore. things are bumpy but i can handle the hills without making them into dead ends and cliffs and summit-less peaks. this is the goal. and i just wanted to tell you that.
thank you for being my friend. it is everything.
it is because i am filled with terror and expectation. it is because sometimes i cannot recognize myself when i look back. this is the ultimate fear of my life, this inability to define my own identity. how do i know who i am if i cannot remember being myself?
this, at least partly, is where my historically intense need for total companionship comes from. obviously it is not the only cause--there are many things in my culture which teach me to seek togetherness and ultimate fulfillment from another person. yet it is this other thing too, this dis/ability of mine to find myself only in others, to rely on the identification of myself through the perception of others. it is like that fascination of seeing a photo of yourself that you did not know was being taken, or glimpsing your reflection unexpectedly and that moment of recognizing yourself as others see you, unaware.
and so looking back at how i have expressed myself, at the written results of the experience of my life, i see my own true reflection. as true as i am able, i suppose, through the filters of memory and time.
and i see a lot of disrespect. i know that it is more useful to be gentle with myself, and so please don't see this as self-deprecation. it's not. and the perspective i have gained over the last year is no place to make judgements from. but i want to say that i am sorry to all of you who know me and read this. it can't have been very easy to be my friend when i have always been so bad at asking for help and so quick to express my depression. i know i have lost friends for this.
i can't go back and explain everything. i can't even explain what the past couple of years have been to me. it is all too much to say, too much for me to try to think about and swallow and spit out for you. but there are a few things that i want to say:
i am taking better care of myself. this includes both the physical me and the mental me, who are gradually getting to know one another. it is a crazy thing, this seperation i have developed between my mind and body. this seperation of perception, really. and confronting that has provided new pathways towards health and away from destructiveness. i am certainly not now, nor do i expect ever to be, free from the crushing debilitation of depression and anxiety which has wreaked so much havoc over my life and the people who have loved me. but i am finally able to take some responsibility over myself, to wake up in the morning and continue. to be alone without crying over it. to look back at myself, a year ago, swallowing tranquilizers with alcohol, and feel shock.
this is not an excuse. i just want to say to you, i'm sorry if i hurt you, if i pushed you away, if i was passive-aggressive and cold. i'm sorry if i took all of the hurt i felt inside of me out on you somehow. i am doing better now. better enough that i see these things coming and am able to examine and deal with my feelings without damaging myself or others. i don't feel the mania so much anymore. things are bumpy but i can handle the hills without making them into dead ends and cliffs and summit-less peaks. this is the goal. and i just wanted to tell you that.
thank you for being my friend. it is everything.