[Prescript: I wrote this around sometime late 2021 I believe..? Due to the ‘freestyle’ or ‘flow’ mode, per say, there are no paragraphs. Currently I feel a nudge more than in the past to put my thoughts into digital form. Day by day my self-expression will unfold and I will come here when I feel the spontaneous will arise from within and will transfer these conscious thoughts sporadically.]
How many times have I opened up to myself? What does it even mean to open up to thyself. Perhaps it is a static action in which I self-reflect on my entire being. The thoughts, emotions, actions, beliefs, ideas, desires, needs, wants, purpose, faith, circumstances, events, and countless other external and internal movements and forces that I am subject to within this existence. I cannot even begin to bring up a possible number of how many times I have been in a state of conscious self-reflection. I have had this self-awareness from as far back as elementary school. From being called “hard-headed” for wanting to know why I should act/think/feel in a certain way. For I was not questioning out of non-compliance but out of curiosity and reasoning. Perhaps my parent’s responses of “because I said so” or “don’t ask why just listen to me” were both ignorant yet valid in its own way. I believe they misunderstood my questioning as a sign of disobedience and looked at it in a rather negative and fragmented way. Instead of the opposite end of the pendulum which is my intrinsic nature of wander for truth and knowledge. I understand the necessity in their actions and while it is not entirely a deconstructive way of communication, it can become so if it is overused. For as a parent there are certain boundaries and limits one must place upon their child. And what may be right in one circumstance may not be so in the next circumstance. At the base and essence of relationships they are quite subjective and relative to each individual. As time went on I adapted to this idea that I should not question my parents and “do as I’m told” without questioning. For the most part I did obey, but there were times where I would backtalk and would get set in my place real quick. As I aged into the beginning of my teens I started to question my parents less and started to question myself more. Not only myself but at the time I would question myself within this confusing existence. I would ponder about the world, its meaning, its inception, its creator, its purpose, its origin, its ending. This would couple with the questions and a search for knowledge of myself and things that just didn’t make sense to me. I believe my experiences and happenings in my child hood also contributed to this need for attaining knowledge and trying to make sense of the falsehood-life that had a hold of me. My mind for most of my entire life had always been my worst enemy. If it wasn’t another person putting me down and myself allowing them to than it was I who would do it as well. Simply put, It is quite deconstructive and retrogressive to not believe in yourself. In other articles/journals I shall go more in depth with my struggles and wounds both within and without and how I reacted to them. For the reactions and attitude that is taken upon the self and the mind determines our reality and its possibilities within it greatly.