I never wanted to write something that revolved only around me again. There was such a great comfort in writing in "we" terms. That way I wasn't alone and I would be in the company of the rest of humanity. I was doing that as an excuse. I was saying "we are all messed up" because I didn't want to come face to face with "I am messed up."
It's unbelievable, I feel embarrassed about writing like a normal human being, I wanted to be this spiritual master that knew everything. My perfectionism reached its scariest limits when I decided to write a horrific message to a person that I love more than I can understand. I don't know why I love who I love how I love, but I do know that it has nothing to do with anything in this world. If the love was worldly, I would never be able to experience it for too long, I would always find people who are in a better worldly situation. True love is out of this world and out of the realm of reason and understanding. This is why we can't understand it and why it's so easy to doubt it so much. "Why would he or she love me?" we ask... the answer doesn't exist within the realm of the mind. It's true, on the worldly level there is always someone better than you and me, it's true, you and I are never going to be enough.
Reading the memoirs of Ricky Martin showed me that no matter how much we accomplish and how "far" we get in the world, what matters is something else. Living with a fairly accomplished father and seeing the emptiness of the American Dream accomplishment I realize that although it's really nice, and it has many benefits and I still want it, that's not where the real seed of happiness is.
I have been an ambitious and extreme perfectionist all my life. There is a part of me, that even though I love it and care for it, is a little devil -- I no longer mean that in a hateful way though, I mean it in a sweet, objective and truthful way. I don't judge myself as harshly as I used to. I have this beautiful customer at work that has two kids -- one she calls her little angel and the other she calls her little devil -- when I heard this, I instantly panicked and wanted to jump in to rescue the one that was being called little devil -- but I stopped myself and decided to look more closely. She meant it in a loving and beautiful way, she meant it with love, acceptance and compassion. Her eyes still shined with love as she gazed at this "devil," her touch was soft and gentle as she would ask for a kiss. She smiled as she called her that. Obviously this mom does not believe there is a fundamental difference between her angel and devil, she treated them both with the same amount of love.
Now I see that I can recognize that I can be a little devil, and I can be loving and compassionate with myself. I don't have to yell at myself inside and beat myself up.
I am becoming ever more deeply liberated from the tyranny of my own head. I am gradually seeing more and more things that I never thought I would let myself see about myself: how controlling I am, how judgmental, how addicted to attention I am, how insecure I am, how fake I am, how harsh I am, how addicted to being perceived as powerful and perfect I am, how I take advantage of people (especially my father), how much compassion I lack.
It hurts me, but in a good way, it is all leading me to innocence.
I always write about how I forgive everybody that ever did harm to me, but the truth is I realize that I need to ask forgiveness of all of those who I have harmed, which have been many. I have been rude, crass, tactless and harsh. I have been an asshole on many occasions, I have been really hard on people, just as hard as I have been on myself.
This is to the world, to the universe, to the entire Body of God: I am sorry.