Non-Static Tomorrows

The more I try to put a magnifying glass to “who I am” and try to figure it out, the farther away I fall. The vaguer the answers get.

I know who I am. Even if that means, right now, I don’t have all the answers about myself or my motivations or my deep, dark, hidden secrets from myself.

The more I try to peg down who I am in specifics, the more I lose my ability to define my identity.

Who I am, is someone who changes.

Every day.

 

Today, I don’t have all the answers.

I’m the chick who cried in a room full of people who understand her, and didn’t want to get the headache that might turn to a migraine because she cried. The chick who doesn’t cry out loud often. But feels safe in that room.

Today, I’m the gal who prepared a small lesson to teach tomorrow about self-reliance and tied it in with how to fold an origami heart.

I’m the person who listened to her neighbors shriek at each other and wondered if I could put them in a story and fix them.

 

Today, I’m Daphne. I was Daphne yesterday. I’ll be her tomorrow.

But today, I’m not the same as yesterday and I won’t be the same tomorrow.

 

Today I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety and come out of it with a touch of serenity in my rib cage. I’ve been honest with myself, even though it hurt, and felt better for it.

I’ve felt a touch of hope. Hope that I’ve changed. Hope that I’ll continue to grow.

I’m the one who read this post and felt an immediate connection with her words.

Who laughs a real laugh, content, even though my insides are a mess.

The same Daphne who hasn’t taken all of her Halloween decorations down yet, because hey, bats and pumpkin-skeletons are part of Fall too!

The gal who took her dog out in the freezing cold and thought of all the homeless who must be shivering in old clothes, and wished she could save the world. The same gal who realized a lot of people don’t want to be saved. Not really.

The same Daphne who grinned at herself. California isn’t freezing, not compared to other places.

To me, it’s freezing.

I am the writer who watches Scooby-Doo reruns while writing about death, rebirth, pain, suffering, hope, and a woman who fights herself to freedom.

 

Yesterday… I don’t want to think about yesterday. It hurts. And the hurt slides back in so easily, just at the mere mental mention of it. It pervades.

But the Daphne I am today is okay with that.

Today I have choices, I’ve decided.

Today, I can be all of me. Vulnerable. Raw.

I keep telling you this. Because I know it’s true. I feel it from the soles of my feet to the hollows behind my eyes.

 

Meet Daphne Shadows. She takes a selfie about once a year. So she's terrible at it. Don't judge.

Meet Daphne Shadows. She takes a selfie about once a year. So she’s terrible at it. Don’t judge. And she’s been crying. Also, she’s upside down. Again.

 

I know where I’ve been, what I’ve been through, how I’ve coped, how I’ve survived. What I was thinking, what went on inside me even as I smiled and people bought, all the time, that I was doing fabulously. I know what’s brought me joy. What I’ve tried and failed to do. What mistakes I’ve made. I know how I’ve grown. What I’ve accomplished.

I know who I was yesterday. Last night. This morning. A few hours ago.

 

I know who I am.

Even if I don’t want to own up to it.

I am the Daphne who expels misery via the ink she types or pens, embedding it into pages.

I know who I am even if I focus on what I feel are my failings and can’t seem to find any successes until I talk to someone else who truly knows me.

Even if I hide who I am, from myself.

 

I know who I am. I am learning to be all of me, out loud.

Even if I don’t know a thing about my tomorrows.

 

Tomorrow I’ll be different. Tomorrow, I’ll be the same me.

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1 Comment

Filed under Stream of Consciousness

One response to “Non-Static Tomorrows

  1. From one random person in this universe to the next: you sound like you’ve been through and are going through a lot. As a fellow writer/aspiring artist/semi-pretentious self-obsessive, I emphasise. You sound confused (in this and some of the other self-reflective blog posts of yours I’ve read), full of anxiety and fear and uncertainty. I know the feeling(s) – I’ve experienced it/them all myself. Searching for meaning, searching for self-understanding, searching for answers to a problem you feel you have internally which hampers your existence in the external world.

    I called myself self-obsessive before, but perhaps I should have said ‘former self-obsessive’. Truth is though I am probably still self-obsessed; it just doesn’t matter as much anymore. The key is not change, the key is that there is no key, but you can’t think that there is no key! Well, that’s just absurd of course!…Absurd. Now that’s a word I can get behind.

    Sorry, I went off the deep end there; need to focus on something at least vaguely sensible. What’s “changed” for me (or rather simply is right now; curse the limits of language) is my awareness of self of the world, rather than my understanding of self in the world. Indeed, separating the two (the self and world) now seems quite absurd to me where before it was the most normal and natural thing imaginable. I used to be all about self-understanding, self-examination and working on self-improvement and self-fulfilment through writing for years, my thought process and perspective changing and seemingly ‘improving’, even as this new enlightened self-knowledge still didn’t provide any concrete or positive results in terms of my place in the world of society itself. There’s only so much the mind can take, spinning round and round like this, before it begins to at least recognise the futility of such an approach.

    That’s when I discovered the writing of Albert Camus which then led to the lectures of Alan Watts, both through happenstance incidentally (I suspect it was not so ‘incidental’ in reality). The two are very different, but also get at the same thing when you really boil it down, and I emphasise the ‘really’ here; there is a great deal of complexity and nuance to their ideas too, but also conversely incredible simplicity and clarity. Still, one of the basic ‘truths’ if you want to use that word might be this – self-discovery is a myth. That is perhaps why self-discovery is so ingrained within folklore, culture and mythology itself – because it is the quest for self-knowledge that humans can never fulfil, and hence the one they have been obsessed by for millennia.

    Neither of these men or their works offer ‘answers’ so much as simply an awareness of things, though again, the awareness is not an answer! It just is. It’s hard to explain obviously (if it was easy, there would be an answer and we would know it) and indeed, wrap your head around, but given a chance to gradually work its magic on you (as it did me) their ‘teachings’ (again, for want of a better, less ‘guru-infused’ term) can help tremendously. Of the two, Alan Watts is the more accessible – you can listen to literally hundreds of his lectures on YouTube and learn a great deal from these alone. If you want something more of a piece however, pick up a copy of his excellent introductory book simply called ‘The Book’ though I also highly recommend his ‘The Way of Zen’ book if his ideas (which are heavily Zen infused) do resonate at all with you. Camus is a bit trickier (he’s an older, more traditional philosopher after all) but his essay ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’ is the best place to start.

    Of course, both men’s work is only a guide (granted the most useful one I’ve ever found), and I would not recommend becoming as equally obsessed with what they have to say as one can be obsessed with what oneself has to say; it’s really down to how your mind perceives it that will determine what you get from it, neither of which is in your control, so I don’t even know why I brought it up. Maybe just to emphasise the absurdity of it all? Yeah, probably. The only thing you can control is your lack of control by not controlling anything, even control itself. Did I mention it’s absurd? It’s also wondrous in a mad kind of way.

    P.S. Apologies for the over-use of parentheses – I have a bit of a thing for them.

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