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The Realest I've Been

By Sabrina SthayPublished 5 years ago 8 min read
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"The eyes are the windows to the soul"

A writer's life is always an interesting thing to research. Meaning, their writing always typically reflects emotions they feel in that moment, or how they want to feel—who they are, and who they want to be. Even in the craziest, most creative works there is an underlying subconscious communication within it.

A college professor of mine once shared with the class: "Writing is a very personal and intimate act that a person can ever do."

Initially, I didn't agree. Then again, I didn't take a moment to think about it. Writing means putting yourself, or something you feel on paper, knowing very few, or even countless people may read it. It makes you vulnerable. And the fact is, I haven't been very vulnerable, not for a while. I've been debating what to write, and what to say. But then it occurs to me that maybe I'm thinking too hard. So, it's time to say it how it is. It's time for me to be as personal and real as I can with the rest of the world, to build an intimate relationship between me, the writer, and my readers.

People have said that I changed the last year. Of course, I initially don't see what they're talking about. In fact, I think they're the ones who changed. It takes five months, and side effects of medication for me to realize I wasn't who I once was. So there begs the question: Who—better yet, what—am I now? Am I funny? Smart? Sneaky? Nice? Charming? Godly? These are things I find myself struggling to answer as I try to fit the mask I've grown on my face. When I say "mask," it's not that I am pretending to be something I'm not, but in my eyes, masks are interchangeable. They can be removed, or are constantly being replaced. Personalities can be the same when you're where I am in life.

My mother shared with me her walk with God. I'm happy for her. I'm proud to see her grow, and to watch her think for herself. But, then there arrives the obvious question in my mind, "Where am I?" Honestly, I still don't know, but I hope I'll end up answering my own question as I am left alone with my thoughts, and jot them down little by little. I do however know that I pray to God every night. I certainly try to. Some nights I fall asleep mid-prayer, but as horrible as that sounds, I've done that for years. And no, that's not an excuse on my part. It's just the way its always been for me. Then I reflect on all of the small things that have been, that I have been embarking on. It's funny, isn't it? How the small things are the things you need to pay the most attention to.

I'll be honest about it. I'm not one to hide anything, at least not anymore. But I started therapy recently in hopes of working on myself, and gaining a better understanding of what the world is like outside of the world I grew up in. After being on my own for a year, it didn't take long for the culture shock to set in. There wasn't as much toxicity, and if there was, it either came from me reliving it, or people in my life from before. See, I used to think therapy was for upper-class women with nothing better to do than talk, or that had the money to pay someone to "shut up and listen." At least that's what I told people. In reality, I actually envied them, and their ability to open up to a stranger, and admit they needed help with what they were dealing with. I was, and still am, far too prideful for that. I didn't want friends and loved ones who were willing to listen to my problems so I thought,

"Why the hell would I waste my money paying a stranger to?"

Fact is, I was in too deep. I was in too deep with the alcoholism of the people around me. I was too far gone, believing that I had every reason to defend them, to forgive them so easily, and then explain and justify to others why I forgave them, because, in reality, I hadn't. I was so saturated that my mind exaggerated stories from time to time to make me angrier, or feel more justified about the way I felt. Or, I would simplify it tremendously to make it easier not to be mad at them.

And was that right? No, no it wasn't—and that's on me.

I spent my life with chaos and clutter. Toxic people butting in, and trying to get involved in ways that I never asked them to. Or, if I did, I didn't understand what I was asking when I did go to them. Now, don't get me wrong, having people there for you is great. That's not what I mean. I mean, when these people get so involved in your life that they:

  1. Use your problem against you
  2. Use it to their advantage
  3. Use it in the future when you're better, simply to cause you pain
  4. Use it for other forms of manipulation

I'm un-trusting. I know that. I spent my life with walls up, knowingly or not. It's not an attractive trait at all. The way the picture is painted in today's society could not be more wrong. An un-trusting person isn't always shy or mean to keep people away—that person wants to love, and wants a shot at life. It's because of the walls that they struggle. They are always on the defense, even if they don't know it. When similar actions are seen to what they grew up with, or what broke their trust in the beginning, they will justify every reason why they can't trust that person unintentionally doing those actions.

For example, "Oh, you bought me a cookie? You must want me fat to keep me away from other men, because of your own insecurities!"

They're in a constant state of horror and exhaustion. They're horrified that one day you will wake up and see how they feel they are meant to be seen: crazy or not worth it. Or, they are exhausted from trying to behave and understand what reality truly is, they want to throw their hands in the air, and just have others accept it. To take it, or leave it. Just don't burden them anymore with the constant reminder that they're a little broken or scarred. At least, that's how it is for me. Then again, who knows—if all human minds were the same, the world would be a lot different.

So, do you remember how I said I don't know where I am with my walk with God? This is where it all ties in. When I went to therapy, the therapist suggested I join a support group filled with people like myself—ones who want to get better, but are a little lost. At first, I thought it would be a dead end, but what did I have to lose? I went. And in the craziness of our lives, they were devoted to God. Not so much in the worship service on Sunday way—more so acknowledging that you can't control it, you didn't cause it, and you definitely can't cure it. The only thing you can do is help yourself, because you matter just as much. And boy, what a foreign concept to me! I wanted to take care of myself as I got older, that much is true. Not knowing how to was a different issue. Luckily for me, I was already on my way when I left home—I just didn't know it yet.

There's one more thing you should know about me. I'm hard of hearing. Not too far from completely deaf. That's fine with me, I accept it, and embrace it. Although, there have been times looking back where people liked to feel more superior than me because of that. Specifically, I remember sitting in a very loud restaurant with some old friends long ago. I was unable to hear, and when I asked one person to speak up, or at least repeat themselves so I could read their lips... They covered their mouths, and proceeded the conversation. I'd been bullied my whole life over this one little thing about myself. I understand that kids can be mean, and it's easy to target something so odd, but frankly, my lack of hearing never made much of an emotional impact on me. I had far too much going on to even worry about it. So, when I returned home, and these specific types of people tried to return to similar habits, I saw the change in me. For once, I said what I needed to say. By all means, I wasn't rude; at least not intentionally. A feeling of both excitement and nervousness fell upon me. Not everybody would like me for the person I was shaping into, and I was excited, because, well, I was becoming a person worth being. The one He wants me to be, not anybody else. This is not the final outcome, but I like where it's going.

So, my last statement is this:

I am where I am. It is prone to change, and hopefully I will continue to change for the better. I act the ways I do for my own reasons, for my emotions, because unlike what others may think: they do matter. I may be considered selfish for looking out for myself. For not being afraid to go after what I want in life. For wanting to travel all around the world. To see different things, meet new people with similar and different stories. I'm sarcastic, but I try to be the most honest and genuine person in the room. I'm not going to hold back from the person I am, or will become. I owe it to myself after all this time, after all the back breaking and soul searching, to be fearless. I have wants, fears, and curiosities. And when it comes to following my dream—my dream to be completely happy, and at ease with my life—I will command the respect I need for it. I've already accepted the harsh reality that people will not like me for it. Some others will support me in it.

But I can assure you, I'm doing it. Alone or not.

humanity
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About the Creator

Sabrina Sthay

Day by day, I become more of the person I want to be. Day by day, I become more of the writer I will be.

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