A Witness Through the Window – Entry 30

I am sitting here with you now, alone, in the dark, and writing during the early hours of morning. This is before the day breaks and the sun sets sail. It is cold outside and winter is about to take its place on the main stage.
I noticed the stars last night which means that today’s sky will be clear, at least I hope so.
Then again, I am a fan of the sunrise. I’m a fan of sunsets too.
There’s a reason for this.

There is more to us than what people see. There is more to us than the common exterior and the surface level thinking which is apparent when we walk by one another, at least I think so.
There is more to us than our hopefulness and more to us than the bouts of our past. I would say there is certainly more to us than the love we share or the fights that we’ve survived. We are more than scars and war stories and more than common survivors. There is something absolutely amazing about us.
To me, there is more to my life than my divisions of sanity. Or, as it seems, there’s more to me than the person I am today. Yes, in answer to the question about looking back too often and wishing I could have done something different – my answer is yes. Of course I do this. It’s called being human.
But yes . . .
I want to go back.
I want to unsay some of the things I said. In fact, I wish I could unsay, undo, and rewind to different moments and correct them before they happened.
I wish I could find an ingredient that wipes away the tiny fragments in our mind. If I could do this, I would keep us free from the unfortunate remnants of our past.

I think about the beauty of a pearl. I think about how the world admires the beauty of a nice pearl. But to the oyster, it’s a pain in the ass. It’s an irritant. It’s an annoyance. To an oyster, this is a grain of sand that irritates the sides yet the world loves a good pearl. But not the oyster. 

I can understand this. If we’re being honest, I’m sure that you can too. 

It’s true, I want to go back.
I want to clear my shell of all the unwanted debris
I certainly don’t want to be like the oyster because the only way it gets rid of the pearl is when someone finds the oyster and shucks them open.
But back to the point, of course I want to go back.
That is, if there was such a way.
(but there’s not).
I want to go back to a day when I turned left instead of right.
I want to go back to a morning and encourage myself to stand alone instead of following along and become part of the pack.

I see people on the verge of failing themselves. They know this is about to happen to them; only, it’s like falling in slow motion. You know what’s happening. You know that you’re about to hit the ground yet the only thing you can do is brace yourself for the pain.
But let’s face it, no one is ever ready.
Even when we know what’s coming and we know that something is on its way or that a problem is in the mail, there is no preparation for the outcome. There are no right or wrong answers. There’s only the moment; therefore, the constant taunting and the senseless reliving of unchangeable details are nothing short of this: Pointless.

I understand my nature. I understand more about the internal workings of why I am afraid or why my fears of humiliation are what they are.
Intellectually, I know there is no going back.
I also know that my cognitive distortions are linked to memories of situations that can literally never happen again.
I know that looking back to renegotiate or relitigate the past is the equivalent of picking a scab on a wound that never heals.
How can anything like this ever heal?
How can anything heal if we continue to re-inflict the damage or if we continue to live or dwell in the shame. How can we feel better if all we do is rekindle pain?

Why do we do this?
Isn’t that the question?
From an intellectual standpoint, if we know that something is unhelpful then why would we do it anyway?
Of course, we know that there’s a therapist for every occasion.
But this is not about therapy or the money-hungry programs that tell you about how to get well quickly.
Not now. Let’s just be people for the moment.
This isn’t about psychology or anything like that.
No, this is about you and I as people.

Forget about all the differences. Forget about all of the bullshit.
Skip the nonsense. Forget about race or gender and background.
Let’s just keep this with us. Right here and right now. 

I suppose what I’m trying to do is be personal and humble. But more, my goal is to remove our reasons of separation and try to find a common ground.
I am opening myself up to more than just interpretation.
I am opening myself up to the truth.
Do you want the truth?
Yes, I wish I could go back.
Yes, there are details of my life that are undesirable to me.
As a matter of fact, there’s a word for this . . .
I think they call it: Human

I wish I could go back to the time when The Old Man and I were sitting at lunch one day.
We were okay to be together.
There was no trouble. I was not too distant from the world and neither he nor I were unhappy for the moment. 

I want to go back to a time when I had the chance to speak-up but no, I was too afraid.
I want to go back to a night where I unraveled. I want to find a woman who will live with an awful memory of me when I was at my worst. I want to say I’m sorry and if I can, I’d like to pay for the window I broke 33 years ago.
I want to un-take some of the things I had taken and replace what I had stolen yet I know that what’s done is done.

I want to go back and step away from some of the awkward moments of romance.
My reason for this is to save myself the humiliation of trying to coincide or be someone I was never supposed to be.
Sure, I think about ideas like what would have happened if I was on a different train home back in 1994 or if I stood at a different part of the train station.
If I’m being honest, there are times when I wonder what would have happened if I stayed true to my hopes and paid more attention to my wants and needs instead of the codependent lies that often came first. 

If I could, I would go back to my old self and say “Don’t do it.”
This is going to hurt you.
Stop
You’re worth more.

There was a night when I was fine to walk away from the crowd. I remember walking around by myself in the Downtown scene of Manhattan, New York City. I saw things without judgment.
I saw that love is love.
I walked around and decided to unhinge myself or disconnect from the crowd – and rather than try to impress anyone or intermingle – I allowed myself the honest journey of seeing my City for what she is. 

I saw people living both freely and openly. I noticed the different fashions. I noticed the diversity of the world and how there are millions of people in my city – or better yet, there are billions of people in this world. The baffling idea is that in spite of this fact, so many of us spend our lives invested with the wrong people while meanwhile – the options to choose from are literally endless. 

But let’s see. What would I do if I could go back?
If I could change anything, perhaps the first thing I would do is push myself to nurture my dreams.
I’d push myself to be unafraid.
I’d force myself to do a reading, which I still refuse to do.
I’d offer the idea to “look around” because the truth is nobody really has their shit together. 
So, it’s okay to be unraveled or think that you’re out of place.

I’d change the fears. I’d change the exercise which means rather than nurture the fake presence. I’d nurture my real truths.
If I could change anything about my past, I’d change my lack of willingness to become more brave.
I’d probably be unstoppable by now.
(Or am I already unstoppable?)

My goal with these journals is to show you everything. I want to create a better level of understanding; but more, I want to show that it’s human to wish and dream.
It’s human to feel. It’s human to hurt and it’s human to love and to have desire. 

For some reason, I see that people have this need to build a wall around themselves.
People love to create a façade or an image – we do this if we have something to hide behind when we feel scared or unsafe.
But this is plastic. It’s not real.
At least not really.

It has been said to me that my journals are hard to read.
Okay. I’ll accept that.
I’ve been criticized. I’ve been told, “It’s not for me.”
I agree. This isn’t for everybody.
But me, I’d prefer to be honest and raw than flowery and commercialized.

Sure, I’d like to go back and correct my steps. But not all of my returns to the past are sad or unfortunate.
There was a day in my old town when the sun was about to set.
I had music wired to my ears. The sky was the kind of orange that only happens in the autumn months. 

I was listening to a song from The Pink Floyd.
I was longhaired and hopeful, young and quick.
I was the most beautiful person possible for that time. 

Maybe this is why I love the sky at sunset.
I like the idea of being beautiful.
I like the idea of feeling free, of being hopeful, of being young, and quick as can be.
We’re almost at the end of this.
There’s a few more things I’d like you to see though.

I’m going to tell you about a bus ride soon.
I’m going to tell you about Robbie.
I’m going to tell you about The Old Man and, of course, I’m going to tell you about Mom. 

I want you to see everything.
This way, no one can ever tell me that I hid behind a façade or chose an image to cover me when I felt unprotected. 

I am unprotected. I’m scared.
It’s unsafe at times. But then again . . .
I’m only a man, remember?
I’m just me.
The only difference now is I have you as my witness.
Remember?

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