Journal Entry – 27APR2018

In several recent conversations this blog has come up, as has my enjoyment for the process of wordsmithing. I take great joy in turning a phrase I find especially meaningful or artful, but there is more underneath. In those conversations I’ve noticed that a part of the reason I write is to be understood.

This relates back to the emotional abuse I received from my father. To him, I was not a real person. No one was, actually, but as a child his narcissism was especially damaging to my development and sense of self.

My therapist and I often talk about the concept of being seen. This has nothing to do with photons entering the eyeballs and everything to do with being acknowledged and respected as a valid and real person. When we are seen the other person is aware of our needs and desires, they see who we are.

My father never saw me. I was merely a thing to him, a tool he used to try to feed his pathologically grandiose self-image. My needs did not matter, only his did. I grew up feeling like I wasn’t a real boy.

There is now, quite naturally, a sometimes desperate need for me to be seen. It makes itself known in healthy ways, like writing about my experiences, and some not so healthy ways. Today I had a rather childish reaction to a company event that had its roots in my always having to always do what he needed or wanted. I’m embarrassed over how easily I was triggered but I’ve also learned to forgive myself.

These writings are very important, more important than I realised at first. I’m putting myself out there, saying, “this is me, this is my life,” and I want you to understand me.
I’m also doing it with a spirit of defiance…no, defiance is the wrong word though there is still anger in the deep layers of my soul. I was never allowed my own opinion or to do or say anything he did not approve of, so risking disapproval and judgment is a big step for me.  What I’m feeling is self-confidence, something new in my life.

Writing about psychedelic-assisted therapy comes with a lot of baggage in a society that is still very far from accepting its healing potential. The risk of not being seen for who I am and being seen as something else based on assumptions and stereotypes is very real. I know there are those who will judge me and that is still a challenge for me.

And another part of me doesn’t care. This part is growing in strength and vigour. This is the healthy core that is growing inside of me, learning to have compassion and respect for myself.
This is my path. I would love for you to understand, and I have a circle of those who do. But if you don’t, I’m learning that that’s ok as well. I may need to be seen, but it’s not necessary for everyone to see me. This is pretty mature and advanced stuff for someone who was barely emotionally functional less than 4 years ago.

I need to be seen, to be understood, and I’m starting to meet that need for myself.  I have been feeling that even though my life is a million times better than it was just a short time ago, the fun part of the journey is just beginning.