Cock Blocked on Womb Envy Wednesday.

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Cock Blocked on Womb Envy Wednesday.

Well bugger! I should be in therapy right now, however I have been cock blocked from attending. The ‘cocks’ I am referring to are the various companies that run the English Rail service. Obviously, ‘run’ the service is used in the loosest possible sense. Delays upon delays meant I missed my connection and could not make therapy, which is a shame as I really wanted to go today. Hmm, what an unusual state for me to be in; I actually miss therapy when I can’t get to it. So, I am left with the burning desire to discuss something I have been thinking about for a few days and no therapy to discuss it in.

Unless…

I give myself therapy this week? Yes! That is a sure fire hit of an idea.

The question I wanted to discuss is ‘Who am I?’ I have been thinking about it this week and I came to the conclusion that I am not certain anymore. I know who I used to be when I was depressed. I was a depressed person. It was how I defined myself. Now I feel like a radio that has been taken apart by, oh I don’t know, let’s say a young version me. Taking it all apart was easy. Putting it back together again so that it picks up all the radio stations is another matter entirely.

I have self-reflected on this for a few days. I say ‘self-reflected’ but I could as easily substitute ‘incapable of being able to not think about it because my brain won’t let me’ but the former is more succinct and flows more pleasantly. In my dark hours when I stare blankly out of my window I have asked myself ‘Who are you?’ I have only been able to reply ‘I do not know.’

At times when I am with certain friends, I am the cheeky London boy who grew up in Sutton. On the phone, I try and sound like what I think an adult should sound like. With new people I am uncertain of myself, where I used to be full of confidence. I try to be kind in the instances where I am put down. I get angry when people are being nice. Not only do I not know who I am, I cannot be who I want to be at the right times either. Or I am at a loss as to what ‘the right person’ to be in different situations actually is.

Even my voice doesn’t sound right to me. Swaying from faux cockney to pseudo posh in the same sentence. Using words like a child then realising I am sounding childish and change to what I imagine a serious, sensible adult should be. It is all too much hard work. This constant chasing of an ephemeral idea of what I should be to please everyone who sees me. How the bloody hell am I meant to manage that? Being all things to all people? Why do I set myself such an impossible challenge in the first place?

Sorry, trying to be both therapist and client at the same time is not as easy as I first thought. Why did I think it would be easy?

I know the obvious answer is ‘Be yourself’ but seriously? I have hated myself for over twenty years. Why would I want to be like me? I tried to be the happy honest child I most closely associate with what I consider to be the essential essence of what makes me me, but that was pretty much crushed when it didn’t fit with other people’s expectations of what I should be as a person. I know it shouldn’t have bothered me, but it was at a key stage of my getting over depression and some things hurt way after you have told yourself that it no longer bothers you.

I am not even sure I live in a world where being innocent and honest is such a good idea anymore. People are so quick to try and screw others over that I feel I should be less trusting than I want to be. How sad is that? Perhaps that is part of the problem? I think I know who I want to be, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea and that I would open myself to more hurt and leave myself open to being taken advantage of.

Hmm. That almost feel like a conclusion of sorts. Actually it is completely not. It just opens another door to another question. If I know who I want to be, how do I reconcile that with the idea that I think I would be a person who would be one of life’s suckers; merely waiting for the next con to come along that I would trust completely?

Then again, perhaps that is a question I can ask in next week’s therapy session. If I can get there that is.

Take care buddies,

David.

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About davidmbeecroft

Hello and welcome to my blog. Please feel free to have an explore. My name is David Beecroft. I am 38 years old. I co-founded and ran a small scale touring theatre company called Screwed & Clued in 1998. I went on to tour the Canadian Fringe Theatre Festival circuit over the following five years. I have written six original plays, the last ‘The Poe Show’ won a Best in Fest award at the 2014 Ottawa Fringe Festival. I worked in a social care setting for ten years and now work in a special needs school. I have sent my first novel off to agents and considering self-publishing if that does not work. I co-host a radio show on Surrey Hills Community Radio called Daves of the Week where we feature charities for a six week period. I live with my fiance and two pet Degus. I started this blog when suffering from depression and attending therapy, so a large part of this blog was about my experience and thoughts of that. Since then I am in a much better place and I write about life after depression and how I stay (or try to) ahead of it happening again. I also like to look at the happier sides of life and try to put a positive spin on serious subjects.

2 responses »

  1. My personal take is to just be yourself, regardless of how many ‘hats’ you end up wearing because at the end of the day when the lights go out, you are the one that has to sleep with yourself. I certainly empathuze with you on delayed transit;I have the same problem here in the States. Great read.

    Like

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