It would be a gross generalization to say that my entire life has been a lie. You could more accurately view the arc of my life as one of:
Truth, but in a naive and ignorant sort of way.
Running madly towards a false self.
Wrestling with all of the demons who joined me on the run.
Running madly away from the false self.
Repeat several times.
The great Unknown.
Who am I, really?
If I take a minute to stop letting myself whore after every last little thing that seems interesting and worth pursuing, and I give myself some time to meditate away from the demands of my present life situation, I begin to discover someone very different from the nerdy kid who liked computers, the dorky kid who liked classic rock and electric guitars, the geeky kid who liked English Lit and Modern Art, the angry Libertarian and the angry Liberal, and the snob who was too busy with books to watch sports, and the insecure boyman who spent endless weekends and nights watching all of the manly man movies he missed during childhood–the same one who flirted with the idea of joining the Navy or police force and the same one who spent a summer on a path to become an EMT, the churchy/social justice whiny liberal man who thought he’d found the perfect path of being and all who didn’t follow suit were surely on a path diverging toward hell, the Catholic wannabe who read endless books by Catholic writers and the soulsick fellow who was pretty much soulsick throughout all of it.
I don’t know who I really am or what I like, but I think maybe I am not nearly the intellectual snob I thought I was, and I don’t think I care about art and books as much as I thought I did, and I am definitely certain that I don’t belong in an office in front of a computer all day.
I don’t think I’m secretly a great warrior or hero, and I don’t think I’m secretly a woman or some other gender/sex identity that I don’t present.
I do think I am less of a nerd and more of a dude, but I guess I would probably prefer to just be out in nature alone by myself most of the time. I suppose that it would be nice to have a lot more friends, but I have no idea how to make friends or what that would look like.
I still have a lot of moments where I find myself craving a mentor, a real guiding presence to help me change and grow and shape the person who has slept beneath all of this crap into someone at least moderately respectable so that I don’t die still caught up in my same damn demons and find out I really didn’t change much at all.
At the heart of what has triggered all of this is something I am not really ready to talk about, because I don’t want to hurt people around me. At the same time, I really do feel like I need to discuss this with someone, or it could blow up in my face and hurt me and everyone I love very deeply.