.. the more they stay the same.
Or is it that they change back? We start out meaning to change. Change our lifestyle, change our hair, change our attitude, change our mindset... but is it really change?
Could it be a return?
We become complacent in our lives and grow bored and dissatisfied so we try something new. We change little things, we change big things. We grow bored and we change some more. But sooner or later, do we find ourselves back where we began?
Sometimes.
Sometimes we do.
The basic core of ourselves, that which was grown in us, our hearts, our minds, are so ingrained that even a drastic change can't completely change what or who we are... at our core. We generally gravitate back to the real "me".
Sometimes we don't.
Those things which are superfluous, unimportant, minuscule... they fall away like so much rubble. They don't and can't bind to the core. They remain outside of our true selves like decorations on a Christmas Tree. The decorations are taken down and switched over the years. The tree remains -- of course not the same tree unless you have one of those *gasp* fake ones!
Here I am, five years out from my decision to change, and I find myself back at the beginning. Alone again for the most part. At least in the way I desire. I still have dear friends that I've made on the way. I've also lost people whom I thought were important at the time. The losses were hard and painful. But the joy I've found in those that have remained eases the loss.
Sometimes.
Sometimes changes are thrust upon me.
Sometimes I regret that the others were found.
I knew they were there, at least the three. I assumed that everyone had their own "specials" inside. When I learned other people didn't, I quickly learned to keep silent about mine. Knowing I was different and sensing it set me apart far worse than if one of my others would come out front altering me to such a degree that people became uncomfortable.
I learned to hide who I was, my difference, and I wouldn't allow the others come out. When they did, people would call me weird. My mom called me weird. Weird is usually a distinctively scathing tag. "You aren't as we are. You're too different. You can't be accepted. You will always be on the outside." But my others and I would huddle together and be fine by ourselves, thank you very much.
I found myself lost in wishing... for the acceptance, for the inclusion, for the normalcy. Since They (the people I had been taught were supposed to always be looked upon as role models) always turned their back on me, I began to look away from them to the Others that They wouldn't accept either. I found my weird wasn't so weird. These Others didn't fit Their mold either. I found that I didn't stick out with the Others. The Others, to greater or lesser extent, embraced me for who and what I am... weird.
One of the Others found one of my others, one that had never spoken aloud before, and gave her a voice. Then another was found, then another. And now instead of just strong urgings, promptings, feelings, drawings, I had voices in my head arguing together with me about the best way to go, the best thing to do, the best way to be. Each having their own opinion and each believing their way was right.
And then the two others were revealed. One hidden to bury great trauma. The other hidden to protect. I had never known them. They had never so much as hinted at their existence. And now their voices blend with the other three to urge, feel, draw me and all to their way of thinking. Even the quietest one who simply wants to hide away and never show her face to the world ever again. The cacophony inside me mind ebbs and flows, but sometimes I wish for the peace again to be restored. But that would mean giving them up and I could never do that.
Sometimes they're a curse.
Sometimes they're not.
Sometimes they see me through change. The pain of change at this moment is almost stronger than any I have ever had to face in my life before. Few things have hurt me this much. Only one other time have I felt myself on the precipice of losing who I am entirely. That is a place that I never want to return to. But the dark depths of that pit calls to me inviting me to forget, bidding me to return to its embrace, to simply let the pain go and hide away from it and the world.
But this time is different. I know better now. To follow that desire would shut me off from healing. I wouldn't feel the pain, but the pain would be there, festering and growing, killing me to the core. So I face it. I adjust. I change... my mindset, my attitude, my heart. Resetting back to who I was before. Becoming me again. But I bring back new parts of me with memories cherished, challenges met, strength gained.
He always said I was stronger than I knew. What he didn't realize, I'm stronger than he knew. I've lived through this pain before. Back then it forced me to grow, to change. And just like a tree that's left standing after the storm, I'll wait for the ground to dry from my tears, grow my roots down deeper in preparation for the next time, and remember once again that the more things change...
...the more they stay the same.
que cera cera
