Whoever comes up with these daily prompts clearly relishes making me think too hard about hypothetical questions. I wish they would appreciate that I have a DVD of The Greatest Speeches of All-Time that’s due back at the library tomorrow, so I have to watch it in its entirety before bedtime. However I must get a quick blog in, or I just won’t feel right about going to bed having not written something today:
When the full moon happens, you turn into a person who’s the opposite of who you normally are. Describe this new you.
For me, looking at the night sky evokes awe; I always think about the unfathomable enormity of this universe, how infinitesimally tiny I am in comparison, and how strangely comforting it is to know that. In some ways it would seem my life is insignificant based on comparative size alone, but insignificance has a way of making the idea of potential and possibilities all the more enticing. At the risk of dancing around my answer to the daily prompt, I’ll explain myself.
As recently as a few months ago – and for a lot of my adult life – I wished I could be someone else. There probably were times that I wanted it so badly, I would have gladly turned into a different person during a full moon if that were a possibility. I had a list of personal flaws I could mentally conjure on a whim, and I did. When my poor eyesight became an issue about three years ago, I became even more convinced that I was inferior. Whatever I thought I was, I wanted to be the opposite. I thought I was too weird for people to understand, and I wanted to be normal, so I stifled myself in social situations and isolated. Not surprisingly, I didn’t get the desired effect and became even more unhappy with myself, convinced that I had no identity because I never let anyone get to know me, and I didn’t want to get to know myself either. Every time I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to like who I saw.
I was in trouble. It took all the good sense I had to start talking to a counselor, and when I did, it was the first time I shared with anybody exactly how flawed my thinking was. While finally saying my thoughts aloud to him was cathartic, it was also enlightening. I realized my mind was playing a lot of tricks on me because I had spent so long training it to do so. My counselor had me tell him weekly three things I was good at and three things I like to do. At first, it was really difficult to answer either of those questions, but it eventually became easier, and soon I was seeing my “insignificance” as a gateway to new possibilities for my life. Suddenly the notion of being small in a great big universe just meant there was more ground to be covered and endless paths I could take.
I decided to continue my therapy in the time since then, and today I really do feel like a completely different person, but not in the way the “old” me had dreamed of. The person I am now can be present in the moment. She can appreciate her strengths and forgive herself for her weaknesses. She can laugh and have a good time with friends without the aide of substances. She believes there is purpose to continuing to live this life. No full moon required.