After dinner a few nights ago I had a moment of crippling paranoia.
Perhaps I should not have eaten so much cheese at the Mercantile? My grandmother Margie who died last year often warned me that too much cheese before bedtime causes nightmares.
My chest tightened. My heart beat faster. My mouth dried. I tried to sleep. I could not sleep. I could no longer employ any one of the very many coping skills I had learned during the past 13 years when the panic comes. I lay down in fear. I woke at dawn with the dawn chorus. Not birds in the palm trees outside my window but to a miserable conference of those self hating voices that used to wake me every day of my life. These episodes are so rare nowadays that when they come upon me I get very scared..terrified.
These are the lies I tell myself:
“Being in love tends to make one feel vulnerable and foolish…and, as we all know, there’s no fool like an old fool.”
“I know that I am loved. I believe it. I know that I can love. But, when more is required-what then? You got to give the man hope.”
I suddenly felt, I suddenly knew, I was being lied to. I was convinced.
I said, “I became aware. More was revealed. You can’t con a conman.”
I felt violently sick, I began to dry heave: I said out loud, “My desire for authenticity isn’t being honored.”
The voice I heard was a child’s voice. He said,
“I understand that it takes a very long time to acquaint yourself with the truth; when a lie comes so easily to your lips. When a lie is easier than the truth, when deception is in your nature then rigorous honesty is something to be feared.”
I said, “But I had had to train myself to be honest.”
When I tried to defend myself the child impersonated my very own voice.
“I am sick of making excuses. I am sick of trying to see it from the other side when my side of things is simply ignored. I am tired of supporting and encouraging and making excuses when it turns out-I am the object of deception and not affection.”
I said, “When the other changes before your very eyes?”
The child laughed out loud and wanted to know who exactly I was kidding.
“I don’t take drugs, I don’t drink, I try and tell the truth, I don’t act out sexually…therefore I never have a day off from myself. I am always here, present, in my own body. I never have an excuse for bad behavior. Ever.”
I could hear other children, laughing..at me.
“When you drink and you take drugs and you look at pornography you are taking time off from yourself. I would love to do that-take time off from myself.”
By being present 24 hours of every day for nearly 13 years I thought that I had evolved.
Remember that stuff I wrote about self-love? That the choices I made had to reflect the respect I had for myself?
The first gay men I ever saw in film were Farnsworth and his boy friend being thrown out of their high rise apartment windows, begging for their lives, by the FBI in The Man who Fell to earth. I must have been 13 years old. I watched it with Linda my house mother from school, Canterbury. She vomited on me after seeing the film.
That’s what’s going on.
So, what’s it all about?
4 replies on “The Lies We Tell Ourselves”
I’m sorry that he didn’t feel as though you were good enough for the truth, or that he even had to lie to you or about you to others. I wish that being gay was more accepted, I wish that people didn’t feel the need to hide.
For a long time I thought I was never good enough for the truth. I remember people asking me about bruises and scars, I’d just shrug them off and tell them it was from skateboarding or karate. I was terrified of them knowing the truth. Now I feel this…urge (if that’s even the right word) to tell people the truth about my past, about the scars, everything.
Perhaps you were protecting yourself until you were strong enough, had peeled enough layers away, to have this revelation and to understand it.
Is it always all about romantic love?
What’s it all about? That’s a good question. I think it’s all about what you want it to be. Our life is our perception. The good news that I gleaned from your entry today was that your panic attacks are getting less and less. When we begin on our healing journey, some of us believe that our goal is to never have a bad day again. That would be wonderful, but to me, true healing is when bad days or moments don’t stay with me as long. My recovery time is shorter. My perception of the situation is different. True recovery for me is when I don’t take things personally. That’s a blue ribbon day — when I don’t take things personally.
I also make it a practice, that if I’m telling myself a lie or a fantasy, it might as well be a positive one. Most of the time when I go into negative self talk, it isn’t true, so why not force myself to tell myself a wonderful story. Both aren’t true. But if I’m going to tell myself a lie, it might as well be positive, uplifting lie. It’s a fun game to play…and it keeps me, most of the time, from going into a dark place…or from beating myself up.
Adib. First of all, with permission, *Metal Rabbit gives Duncan a bear hug & a Peep . 😉 * In truth, I can’t know exactly what’s going on with you, but I suspect that despite all appearances to the contrary, that you’re getting better. You’re stronger and all the old crap that needs to be healed, all the old frozen pain that needs to be walked through — emotion is energy in motion — is coming up because you are in a place where you can deal with it. All your fears are coming up so you can shine the Light on them and watch them dissolve. Yeah, I bet you feel REALLY lucky about now… but hang in there. It gets better. My subconscious waited a couple of years to serve up the coffins in the pool scene from “Poltergeist” to me when I was going through a healing spurt. I had a string of lovely nightmares and I was one happy camper but I got through it and you will too.
“When you walk let your heart lead the way…” You have such a great heart. Believe in yourself. I’m sending you rainbows & playing “If You Believe” from “The Wiz”. Light and Love.