Long. Retrospective.

[wispfox]

Others have written of change, and growth. And it struck me that, 2 years ago, I was in the middle of what I now think of as a time when I was simply not sane.

I don't mean by this that I was dangerous, physically, to anyone. But I did not know who I was, at _all_. I was driving myself and the person I was living with and intensely emotionally attached to completely batty, both because of my lack of self-awareness and because I had just graduated from college (Spring '01).

I did not know who I was when I was out of school. School had been my major focus for my entire life, and once that focus was gone, I was lost. Badly, badly lost. I had also never lived on my own, even though I escaped my parents home when I was 17.

Things that had happened in my life up to that point, including learning things about my family that make me even more nervous about my minimal amount of childhood memories, and having had my trust betrayed _badly_ a few years before I graduated, were no longer things I could mostly ignore. They made themselves very... noticeable. All at once.

I didn't know what I wanted, even as far as things as small as what things I might enjoy doing with my free time. Everything I'd tended to do with my free time up till that point was, for the most part, things other people had suggested to do. I had also not _had_ much free time. My major focus for who I was had tended to be other people. Family, friends, lovers. Never myself. I didn't think it was as bad as that at the time - and indeed, it was not as bad as I've seen happen to those whose self relies largely upon other people. But that does not negate the fact that I did not know who I was or what I wanted.

I didn't know who I was. I knew myself within the context of school, and within the context of unbalanced relationships with other people. But not within the context of a relationship with _myself_. And I was not even very aware of this fact, or the fact that I did not know what I wanted.

Even though I was not hearing and understanding it, the one who I was with at the time was trying, very hard, to _show_ me what I did not know, and needed to know. To give me a place to start searching. And, though it took breaking up with me to finally get me to a point where I could start the process in any sort of useful way, I did finally begin to understand what had been said to me, time and time again. There were many very important things taught to me as a result of that relationship; sometimes very painful realizations about myself.

I have been living on my own, for the first time ever, for two years this coming August. I have had roommates during that time, but there was time at the beginning that I was truly on my own, if one does not include my cat. And none of the roommates I've had have been people I was seriously emotionally involved with. This makes a huge difference, I've found. Not family, and not intense emotional involvement.

I better learned who I was, on my own, without someone else around. I better learned what I need, both in terms of time to myself (this was the major time during which I learned how I process), and time with other people. I also better learned how to tell who would be _good_ for me, who would be enjoyable to spend time with, and who I could only spend time with when my energy level was high. (note: all of this is 'better' learned - I'm still learning, and this is still all pretty new and not fully assimilated yet)

I finally learned how to make winters, if not _good_, at least reasonably bearable - both for myself and for those who are close to me. And how to ask for the affectionate physical contact that I derive so much good from. Even though it bothers me significantly to be asking friends for things because a part of me needs it, and not simply because I _want_ to do something. I know too well how strongly other people's needs affect me, and suspect that this is why I'm so uncomfortable asking other people for things based on need.

I have been facing the various demons that have been haunting me, and although some of them are certainly not gone yet, many of them _are_. This has been with help, in many cases, since it's very important to me to have people that I can talk to. Even better when, as has tended to happen more often in the last year or so, they understand me very well. I think the first time I ran into this was the one who I was with 2 years ago, and suspect that may be why I became so strongly attached.

I don't currently have someone with whom there is easy and frequent mutual digging through psyches. For the most part, I still have too much of the 'but I might annoy them by saying the same damn thing over and over and over again', as well as needing, _very_ much, to have the investigative behaviors be _mutual_ - otherwise I won't feel as comfortable initiating such things.

Most of the people I know simply don't have that kind of time (myself included - which is another reason I prefer the written forum mentioned next), and I have a possibly annoying need to do a fair amount of this kind of investigation in a written forum (usually email). Preferably _not_ synchronously, so I have time to formulate my thoughts. I can (and do, now. I didn't used to be able to...) also do it in person, but it's much harder, and tends to need to be later in my verbalization process.

But, though some of my demons are gone, and others are weakened, this is not a journey I ever expect (or want!) to be done with. Successfully getting beyond my various major demons? Perhaps. Some day. Most of them have to do with fear, and letting go. But my self-exploration will not end there. Indeed, it should not. There's always more to find, and that is how it should be. I would probably be bored, otherwise. And doing that exploration with other people, now that I have enough of a sense of self that it's reasonable, and that I am no longer in major danger of trying to exist for someone else, is a very interesting, often pleasant, and sometimes painful (but healing) experience.

I begin to understand how my catalystic nature works. At least to some extent. I am not sure how long I've been aware of it, but I know it was only recently that I was able to see it as not a majorly problematic thing (due to the number of friends I've lost because of it). In fact, I begin to understand how it's a really useful thing.

I have a fascination with other people's psyches, a good ability to get a sense of people's core self if they are not really closed off (note: when I can't do this, I can't be comfortable with a person), and a possibly automatic sense of when something about a person is 'off' from my sense of their core self, and a drive to point it out to them. I also tend to be able to 'hear' what needs to happen, to be said, and similar. This can be a very powerful force for necessary change, if people are willing to let it happen. Took me a while to realize that I simply _could not_ let myself try to help those who were not active participants in that process - it's like throwing my energy into a black hole. But, more interestingly, even if I am _not_ actively delving into someone's mind, it seems that being around me enough can _still_ be an agent for needed change. I don't entirely know why this might be true.

I also begin to trust that people won't abandom me. This is a major victory in itself. But, being a relatively recent one, is still fragile.

Two years ago? I would never have been driving in Greater Boston, because I would have been too afraid of getting lost (I still dislike getting lost, but I can function through it now). I was terrified of the T. I would not have been traveling alone, or anywhere nearly as much as I have been and plan to continue doing this year - even if I had the money, I would have been too afraid. I would not have been willing to go to so many group social activities of people I did not know well.

I have more recently been able to know who I am in the context of energy work, and similar. And I have mostly stopped second-guessing myself and my perceptions, partly because of the group I am working with now, and partly because I have been blessed with getting to know other people whose views of such things are similar to my own. Neither ridiculously fluffy and impossible for me to place any faith in or follow, nor so strongly focused on the ability to prove things with current scientific technology that I feel like half of who I am is being labeled as fantasy. Balance. It is nice to stop questioning everything I'm experiencing, and to be able to simply accept that I have a somewhat hazy separation between concrete reality and what could, in my more cynical moments, simply be fantasy.

Indeed. I have changed. And I like the changes, because it feels like I am coming closer to who I actually _am_. There is less dissonance within me between who I _am_ and what I do. Which, I am quite sure, also makes winters easier than thay have been. Without something to get paranoid about, I cannot spiral as badly.

It is so strange to look back on who I was, know that who I was is still a part of who I am, and yet so very wildly different from who I am now. Strange, but wonderful. Beautiful, even. Being able to see myself becoming more whole is, indeed, a beautiful experience.