My whole life I've been somewhat of a geek with an active imagination. That has a lot of pros and cons, but today I'm specifically thinking about a habit I had around 16 y.o.
I would imagine all the parts of me that hurt as a separate entity, independent of me, but hellbent on influencing my life. At the time that imaginary person consisted of all the times I've been mistreated and heartbroken. To be honest, all of that was very blown out of proportion, 'cause I wanted to be an angsty dramatic teenager while having a blissfully normal and uneventful life. So I made due with what little I had. But I digress. "They" were very scarred and sad and bitter and weighed me down, I believed.
At some point later the dynamics changed. I was the strong one, and my new "alter ego" represented the weak parts: the whining, the cowardice, the way I cry too easily.
Then it flipped again — to the complete opposite. I was the weak and tired one, and they were all my negative self-destructive thoughts. A personal bully inside my own head.
And finally, being an alleged adult, I accepted the fact that the good, the bad and the weak me are all one multidimensional complicated me. I embraced it all and moved on, whole.
And yet now I suddenly find myself wanting to give my feelings a face again. This time — to my anxiety, to my anger issues, to my despair.
But for the first time ever I don't want to hate or fight them, the person I conjured. Anger, anxiety, fear — all those feelings are meant to protect me, however misguided and overwhelming they can become. I don't want to fight them, this person with my face, freaking out about my well-being and my dealines. I want to hold their shoulders and tell them we're going to be okay. I want to acknowledge their worries and try to put them at ease like I would do with a real friend.
I wonder if it's going to work. Time will tell, I suppose.