I’d like to think that I’m an optimist, but in reality I probably am a pessimist. I find that my personal thoughts often turn to the worst case scenario, rather than consider that a non-bad outcome (not necessarily good – let’s not walk before we can run here) is possible. This tree of negativity has many branches; from a lack of self belief in my own ability and possibilities, to worry that my children may one day be abducted, or may be hurt or injured and me not being there to help them or protect them, to the abject fear of ever being though badly of. This last example is partly why I am so hard on myself when I make mistakes, and also why I strive so hard to please others. I have recognised that even this blog, and the poetry I write is simply me crying out to be loved. “Love me!!!” I scream – and yet, when people do I struggle to believe it. Give me a compliment and I will bat it away, or deflect it, or ignore it. Not out of arrogance or rudeness, but because I find it virtually impossible to like myself, and therefore equally impossible to believe that somebody else will. Recognising and accepting my own worth is a feat yet to be mastered. I guess I crave acceptance and love from others so much, because I don’t accept or love myself.
I’m 46 years old, earn less than £20,000 per year, do not own my own home, and do a basic administrative job. I have a very large “can’t be bothered” theme running through me – I am overweight, and should exercise. The only thing I do is walk a mile to work each morning, and although I know the long term risks of my sedentary life, I do nothing about it. I’m lazy – and have been all my life, and I don’t know how to change it. Or, if I do – I can’t be arsed to actually do it. I’m still waiting for life to bring the answers to me – a lottery win, a fantastic job offer out off the blue, the recipient of the bone marrow donation I did four years ago turning out to be the Sultan of Brunei’s cousin and him contacting me with a cheque for millions. I know life won’t do these things, but the hours I spend fantasising about winning the lottery is ridiculous. It’s an immature trait I have, I feel.
At our I house, we have an exterior light that has gone and we bought a new one but have no idea how to fit the new one (add “Should Know DIY” to the list of sticks with which I beat myself). I was able to ask a friend (I wanted to type then ‘a friend who I met through my Fiancée – he’s not my friend’ – because why would he want to be friends with me. This is the negativity I battle with) to come over and fit the new light, and while he was doing so I was so envious of his skill and talent in being able to do that. The best I could do, was to wash up and clean the work surfaces down whilst he was working – not the most manliest of tasks. I constantly have the feeling that I am not doing enough in any facet of life.
So why am I telling you all this? Firstly, because it feels good to do so. I am having counselling sessions at present in which much of this stuff is being worked on. I wasn’t sure what I would be writing about when I started this blog post, but then this stuff started coming out, and I didn’t want to stop it. My negative inner self is telling me that the only reason I wrote this is because I am seeking attention. Maybe he is right – although at the time of typing this sentence you are reading, this blog post is on a word document and hasn’t been copied onto my blog, so maybe you will never read it. However, the fact I just spoke to you probably means it will. I could go round and round like this for ages which – like the rest of my negativity – will get me nowhere.
The second reason I am telling you this stuff, is because I could never tell you this stuff – at least not face to face, without breaking down. Many of my friends, family, and work colleagues read my blog (be they’re regretting that tonight), and would not have been aware of some of the stuff I have spoken about. So I have taken the easy route and have bared all to them from a digital distance. As for the other readers and followers of my blog who live in various places across the globe, it is unlikely we shall ever meet face to face, so I divulge my innermost fears almost anonymously. You don’t know me, I don’t know you, and that’s okay.
The third reason for me revealing this stuff is that it gives it a tangibility; although documents can be deleted, and websites can crash, I feel this stuff is “out there” now. I’ve put my cards on the table where everyone (including me) can see them in the daylight. The inner voice that whispers how shit I am has now been heard by all of you, and it doesn’t like that, because as long as only I heard it, the voice was strong. Out in the open, where the wind blows the voice can be taken away on the breeze and disappear. If other people hear what the voice is saying to me, then it weakens it’s power because it’s not just me that hears it – and although I might let that happen, other people might not.
Writing this stuff here tonight does nothing to change the things I am struggling with. What it does do is bring them out of the shadows, out from the dark place where they are in control. I feel that I am showing them to the world and am saying ‘This is me; this is where I am right now”
I’m not asking for anything – please do not think that I am. If you know me, are my friend, or have had me in your life at one point or another, then you have/are doing enough already. I have felt like I have been hiding this stuff for a long time behind my façade of being jokey, funny Larry/Laurence/Laurie/Lazza/Lagrueski (Delete as appropriate based on personal knowledge of me), and I still will be the same crap joke telling, awesome poetry writing, hunky chap with a beard as I always was.
I’m just not prepared to continue hiding this stuff anymore.
Thank you for reading.