You are my mirror

Narcissus by Caravaggio

I can see that some people think I am strange. Some of those who knew me before, and met me later, look like they wonder something dramatic happened to me. Questions, of course, would not arise to everyone. Most people do not have time to process them. My blog is for those that have. Only someone like me, an explorer, would end up here.

Being strange only means others do not know you. When they know, you stop being strange. Then you are just different or not so different at all. My mirrors have always been right about me. Something did happen.

In childhood I had to deal with high expectations. My mother taught me to read before I went to school, so I could later on focus on more important things. Unfortunately, it turned out I was not the next Ludwig van she so badly wanted me to be, so her narcissistic world shattered.

To prevent my mind from shattering as well I had to develop a mechanism to deal with my feelings. I tried to explain every feeling and vibration I had to myself, so I could work on them. I saw my mother was acting well, so I had no one to talk about her. None of my relatives would take it seriously. I had to be my own shrink.

My mother had phone conversations with my school friend’s mom. My friend’s mom started joking about my mother. I guess she found it ridiculous how my mother was so proud of her behavior psychology knowledge she used to apply on me. The jokes had earned their place for sure, but for me they were not really jokes. I was an experiment.

My parents did their duty, and took care of me until I was 18 years old. We were fine as long as I remembered to show a happy face during birthdays and Christmases. After that I was free to go. Luckily, they had another child that would have the crown in case the other fails. Today there is no space for me in their idyllic family album.

At some point I belonged to a wolfpack. It had all elements of it: a burly alpha, beta, omega, and so on. When I left home, I had no one else. I was afraid, that without my pack, I would become a lonely wolf. The wolfpack offered me security, but in exchange I had to be in line with it. That was not what I really am, but I did not recognise it back then.

Everything I did was to satisfy my need to strictly follow the social norms. I did so called normal things, like drinking heavily on weekends, to avoid disapproval. That need originated during my childhood. I was a clockwork version of me.

One evening when I was out with the wolfpack, I met a very clever fox. With that fox I felt I could deeply connect and I had my first platonic conversation. The discussions later on led me to what I am today. As I changed, I did not have many things in common with the wolfpack anymore, and I was sorry to leave. The members of the wolfpack were my mirrors in my small world, and I am thankful for each one of them.

When I managed to turn off the survival mode, I found out that there was a small human inside of me. I could feed him with nutritious thoughts, and let him grow mentally. Today that human is about the size of me. It can approach the whole fraction, but there will always be something on its way. Our circumstances can never be free of some infinitesimal uncertainty.

I know that many families have their problems. It is common that stoic Finnish fathers move their traumas to their children, usually with alcohol. Each individual has their own scale for their experiences, so I cannot compare whether my situation was better or worse than what someone else had to deal with.

It is also important to note that a typical defense mechanism is to question: who would not have problems, others’ problems must be worse than mine. In other words, we have to knowledge that whatever the problem was, it is never too small for you to have the right to make noise of it.

My father would find me weak after hearing soft talk like that. Focusing on emotions leads to feminine characteristics, or worst case, homosexuality. It is a father’s duty to guide his son into the right direction during the strategic moments of identity formation. He used to accept my mother’s methods simply saying “you will thank us when you are a little older”. Back then I knew I would never thank them.

Thankfully, my personality is far from my mother’s. I and my father instead were made of same ingredients, but stirred different ways. He is forced to ignore his monsters. They have grown eating joy from him. I can see that those monsters will continue until there is nothing else left than bitterness, and it has gone far already. My mother gets great satisfaction from the power she gains in the situation.

By writing this blog I am fulfilling the purpose of my human. I hope someone who is in a similar situation I used to be in, finds courage to leave toxic people behind and a key to open his or her locks. Opening our locks is a difficult thing to do as our subconscious is trying to protect us from finding them in the first place. They are there to help us cope with our current situation. Once opened, it is surprising to see how much they actually affected our relationships, cognitive capability, and everything in daily life.

I have now planted an idea in your mind. It will grow if it has a purpose for you. Or perhaps that was just my subconscious attempt to give me value. I will never know.

I guess that’s enough of stream of consciousness for some time. Thank you for being my mirror, and please come again!