|The Problem with Being Peeled
||[Mar. 7th, 2010|11:39 pm]
Some people are Masters of Themselves. They are composed and in control, they feel by and large what they choose to allow themselves to feel. Whether by talent learnt throughout a lifetime or a gift bestowed from a kind fairy at birth, these people are within reason, emotionally solid and safe. The self-possessed are often successful, in part because they have managed to navigate the world without spearing themselves on a foolish spike along the way; they remain committed to a fixed goal. It is a trait to be admired.
I will never be amongst these dignified people. Sometimes I feel the exclusion like an acrid wound in the chest. Inexplicably I am open to sensation, experience and feeling and unable to efficiently cap them off. Most of the time I find it a mixed blessing; I may never feel truly satiated but I am quite an effervescent person and the people around me seem to love that energy. I’m grateful to be able to make others happy. Despite my belief that the more composed amongst us will find success easier to realize, I absolutely intend to arrive at the destination I have chosen; in that respect I am quite terrifyingly steadfast.
I am not Mistress of Myself in all ways. I control my life as well as many other people do; I control my reactions and actions adequately. When I differ from other people I have usually made a conscious decision to allow that difference, rather than swim upstream against my own current. The complication comes when something triggers a strong interest or feeling in me. It could be anything, big or small; I’ve had this issue with ideas, people and places. It is as if a certain something or someone has above it a pinpoint precise blinking light that says “attend to me” and I find it a distraction until I have seen the task through. I want to protest that I’m not crazy, obsessed or hallucinating but of course the more you do such a thing the more you sound all of the above. It’s a smarting catch-22; the disability of the 6th sense, speak of it and you shall be diagnosed. In our time different abilities and disabilities are thankfully being shown the respect that they merit. However it is still taboo to say that you know or worse, feel something without factual evidence. Once you tread down that road you’ve lost credibility for all else. Well, as a matter of fact I can manage that road and the road of logic simultaneously; I’m marvellously talented.
I have occasionally tried to use willpower to overcome the urge to trail after that bright light like its slave; I’ve even managed it for an arduous year or more. But as time goes on it begins to invade so much of my waking and sleeping thought that I unwillingly become preoccupied with it. It’s like having the combination to a lock but not the right pattern to enter the numbers in, and for that information you need the cooperation of others. Pursuing intuition is not so much an option as a necessity for peace of mind.
In most cases the overall result of these flashing lights has been beneficial, which has provided enough reason for me to carry on. The most pivotal and rewarding relationships and achievements in my life have been a direct result of this fierce push, and indeed I literally have the flashing light to thank for my life. However I don’t know if I could stop even if each instance of pursuit was a total failure, the feeling is that compelling. Sometimes I hate it, when it becomes a conflagration, when it veers beyond the limits and I realise that once again I have crept beyond the pale.
This is one of my great flaws; I am too raw and unable to self-censor in the times that I am driven by a persistent blinking light, sometimes it is unfair to those who it also affects. I could never be unfailingly sweet and patient like Melly. I’ve got all of Scarlett’s boxes ticked, for better or worse.