I am lovely

Marketing oneself through a blog serves the narcissistic needs of experiencing one is seen, heard and registered by others. In becoming visible to others one is actually exposing her true self into criticism. Someone may say: "Shame on you. You are totally wrong." What the writer may experience: "My true self is something wrong and unacceptable." Despite the dangers I keep exposing myself, as I need to become visible to my own eyes, feel my voice is clear and said aloud to someone.

Through the years I have learned the power of hysteria. Deep in my soul the driving force has been hysterical self-denial. The self need to fit in the society. It must serve the wider entity. And if it doesn't the whole existence is in threat. The concept of self that is built denying the true self as despicable is narcissistic of nature. Because it is based on lies who I am rigidly conforming the expectations of others, it demands external support into staying in form.

The more hysterically I try to conform to the given identity what is acceptable, the more the bystanders suffer in my sphere of influence. Conforming into my lies is revolting to them. The more I experience rejection the more hysterically I pursue trying to fit into accepted. Or then I stop and think, what I have been forced to do. Identity based on a set of false concepts is a fraud. A fraud is far from beauty. So is there alternative for me? Can I find the permission to my true self to come visible?

I never was anything they could appreciate. That forced me to act alike what was expected from me. Thus becoming a genuine person, with own unique personality is a process of grieving. All that I am was once despised and denied, and man, it is hard to find the strength to appreciate something others ridiculed and looked down upon. It hurts like hell.

Is there salvation out of the flames of hell? Of course there is. That is the only vision that keeps me going. There is a state sometime I can say: "I am finally home." Then I can be at ease with myself. And then no longer I constantly feel all that I am is wrong and disgusting. Maybe I am already there. This blog may be the first sign of me appreciating myself. This is my own voice acclaiming: "My life is beautiful." It is beautiful to me, as it is something that is true. I am no longer a puppet or a doll. I am a wreck. I am a veteran of war. And I will heal and be built ones more.

Once I know I am lovely, I no longer am driven by the need of being approved by "them" and the need of hearing them say "this doll serves." Still, shame is something that will keep striking against me. It comes unwaited, attacks all of a sudden, and then the flames of hell are there to torture me again. But in the middle of the strikes I have my own voice, be it weak, but it is my own. It's the voice of tears and sobbing, but it is mine. And they won't ridicule me for it, and the sadism of them won't tear my soul apart. I am learning to say: "I am lovely", with a little smile.