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Blogs by Melva J Henderson
Ramblings of a Mad Woman, Effervescence from the Soul 9/11/2017 12:00:23 PM
Excerpts from my book of the same title, and my random thoughts in general. WHO AM I?
Lady, have you ever opened a Pandora's box. If I can squelch some of the pandemonium and screaming of someone named Prince, who is drowning in a purple rain amid sex, drugs, violence and gore, maybe I can begin to at least try and search that question to its ultimate conclusion.
Who am I? Let me think now. I’m someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s niece, someone’s wife, someone’s mother, someone’s friend, and probably, and most likely, a pain in someone’s behind. It really doesn’t matter at this point who that “someone” might be because I am still wondering WHO AM I?
Wait a minute. All of the above terms do not describe me. Those are descriptions of categories, positions, or titles maybe, but not actually a person; a possession maybe, but not an individual. Who is this individual I call ME? She’s buried somewhere beneath all of the other misnomers and it would take years to dig her out. I have never known her because she was never really allowed to come out and be. There was never time, because I’ve always been too busy being someone’s daughter, sister, wife, mother, and friend. Even “someone” doesn’t know who I really am. I myself would have to take the time to find out who I am. But, I really don’t have the time because, you see, I’m still too busy doing all that I do to please others. I don’t even know what would please me anymore.
Who am I? I’m confused, that’s who I am. Bewildered, hurt, frustrated, panicked, sad, but, there again those are descriptions of states of mind and not an individual. GOD!!! WHO AM I? Maybe this should be aptly titled “Desperately searching for SELF;” and self’s name certainly isn’t Susan.
In order to find out who I am, I’ll have to look deep into the recesses of my mind. Do I have one? I’m sure I did, so it must be laying around here somewhere. I’ll have to figure out what my likes and dislikes are. I’ve been looking at the likes and dislikes of others and doing what they prefer for so long, it will take that rare commodity of time to get a grasp on what my own likes truly are. What are my ideas of enjoyment, entertainment, and pleasure? Gee, I’m really not sure, at least I don’t remember. Let me brush the cobwebs off and see what’s under here . . . I’m positive I must have filed it away in these dark recesses somewhere.
Ah ha! I see something flickering way back there in the darkness. It’s probably SELF, playing games of hide-and-seek. I can see this will be harder than I thought. Maybe she isn’t even here anymore, or maybe she got tired of waiting her turn. Maybe she never really existed, or she’s afraid we won’t like her, or maybe she’s just afraid SOMEONE won’t like her. Maybe, just maybe, we will never find her if we don’t get started.
Wait a minute! Who is this WE anyway? Well, I'll be darned. There SHE is, she was beside me all the time. Now if I can only find the time to find out who she is.
Every now and then I’ve written down my thoughts as they popped into my head, although they’d generally sit around on little scraps of paper for awhile until one day I’d destroy them, thinking them ridiculous, foolish, or merely drivel. A friend once told me that what I wrote was profound. I didn’t question what her definition of profound was at the time, because I sometimes tend to analyze things too deeply . . . ending up taking things that were meant as compliments to mean something entirely the opposite. Then, there are the times when the hidden meaning is quite apparent in the tone of voice and revealed by looking into the person’s eyes. Hostility and contempt are very difficult to conceal within a person’s eyes; its existence there flashes like a beacon within the dark recesses where “self” resides.
The eyes of others are the windows that reveal their own identity and not necessarily what they think of us that we see. The scorn and contempt we see in the windows of their souls may very well be the scorn and contempt they feel for who they think they themselves are, turned outward toward those who are most like the person they themselves would rather be. In that case, the contempt is not a reflection of what they feel for us, but a reflection of their own desire to be the kind of person they believes us, or you, to be.
Sometimes it’s difficult, if not impossible, to differentiate between those who actually like us but dislike who they themselves are, and those who neither like us, nor themselves. In any case, their lack of self-esteem could have an effect of an unpleasant nature upon our own self-esteem, especially if we too sit upon a lofty perch in our own eyes.
Needless to say, not being an analyst, I can only assume, at any rate. And assumptions are pretty much like opinions; not necessarily true. Even so, none of this is helping me find out who I am, or is it? Sometimes the mind is too complex to understand. That must be who I am; complex. That pretty much covers it I suppose. Or does it? Maybe I’m lost, because I still don’t know who I am!
