I suspect this will ramble a bit.
So this evening occasioned me to think about my emotional state.
I was chatting with one of my dear friends-and-relations and the conversation led around to honesty and hypocrisy. She asserted that whatever else, at least she had been honest (in a particular circumstance) and I thought about this and realised that rarely in life am I honest.
Not nicking stuff dishonest.
And not maliciously lying or anything like that.
But (in ways) quite hypocritical and duplicitous.
I think more to do with aspects of character I’d rather not admit to myself and certainly not to other people. So I act in ways I deem appropriate and if I see myself through other people’s eyes, all goes well. Looking through mine own eyes, though, is uncomfortable because there’s always an aspect or two being hidden away and covered up.
Is this some kind of weird repression? Not sure I’d want to un-repress, to be fair. These aspects are not things I’m proud of. There they are, though, ever-present and simmering below the surface. Tainting everyday life just by being there.
And sometimes they rear their ugly heads.
F’r’instance I’m notoriously unsympathetic. I’m always more comfortable offering a solution rather than comfort (much to Husby’s chagrin). I quickly react with sarcasm or nastiness when confronted with weakness or mistakes and it’s a great pity that so many people have occasion to take me to task for being so cold and try to teach me to be more empathetic/sympathetic/forgiving and I Just. Don’t. Learn.
Perhaps I don’t want to. It could be pride – I set great store in being strong and practical, even to the paradoxical point of finding strength in admitting my lost-ness publically to others. To the point where I baulk at recognising the weakness in this attitude. And weakness there surely is, for as surely as I build the walls around myself and panic that someone might find the chink in my castle, I keep people away.
Could be more pride, that – not considering that people’s advice is worth taking on board or applying to myself. And if pride cometh before a fall, what am I setting myself up for?
Or it could be fear.
Fear and lack of trust about what would happen if someone knew my vulnerabilities. Or, more fundamentally, fear about what it will mean to openly accept the vulnerabilities and character failings for myself – I would then need to work on changing them.
And there’s the crux – I don’t know that I want to want to change them.
It’s far more convenient to leave them unacknowledged, buried and left to be discovered and examined another time. More weakness, this time using avoidance and displacement to keep the ol’ issues hidden away.
Yet what about weakness am I so afraid of, since I am clearly quite enmeshed with it? Why do I have this need to be right? To be pragmatic? To be strong? To be admirable in admitting a difficulty?