I just watched the movie 23. I am surprised I haven’t watched it before. It is the type of movie I enjoy, and I have always been a fan of Jim Carrey’s more serious movies. It was the end that struck me. During my obsession with finding who I am, the ending dialogue slapped me in the face. “There’s no such thing as destiny. There are only different choices. Some choices are easy, some aren’t. Those are the really important ones, the ones that define us as people.” It was the scene before that set it into motion. He didn’t believe he could be loved because of who he had been, and the things he had done, and the things his father did. When his wife wouldn’t stop telling him that she loved him, his reaction, although much more dramatic and severe, was similar to mine. “Stop saying that, you can’t, no one can.” Then he runs, straight to the only escape that he believes to be better for all involved.
I am not suicidal, I never have been. But I understand the feeling he had. The only way he could save the ones he loved, was if they didn’t love him. If they refused to stop loving him, then he had to disappear. But this rant is about something different. This rant is about me, Who I am. I have to stop trying to box up who I am in a neat little organized package. This is how the ending dialog spoke to me, and brought me to tears.
“There’s no such thing as destiny.”
I am not forced to be anyone. I am not predisposed to be anything. There is no definition for me. I am not static. I am not a statue or robot. I am flesh. I am weather. I am forever changing and adapting. I am a creation that creates what is necessary.
“There are only different choices. Some choices are easy, some aren’t. Those are the really important ones, the ones that define us as people.”
I am me. I chose to run. I chose to close off. I chose to shut off. I chose silence over living. I chose to hide and lie. I chose to kiss her. Those were the easy choices. The ones that are decided by not deciding at all. The choice to not make choices, to float. The choice to be a victim to wind and waves. The choice to be defined by the choices of others. I also made the choice to stop running. I made the choice to open up. I made the choice to come clean. I made the choice to face my demons and take the beatings that I had coming to me. I made the the choice to feel, to live. I made the choice to let people love me. All of me. My flaws, my heart, my choices. I made the choice to fight for my children to know me, and know that I love them. I made the choice to spill my guts and lies and truth all over this blog. I made the choice to step out from in front of the bus, and face my life. I made the choice. I am me.
I am finally satisfied with a definition of who I am.
I am Me.
That’s tough when you only personally see each other sleeping. We have opposite work schedules right now, so we see other in passing only, that’s part of the issue. She is afraid of a “Clio” repeat when I am closing a lot.
How’s this supposed to work, do I just blurt random facts most would lie about, or do I wait for curious questions and promise not to lie? I’ll do both.
1. Every time I get a compliment on here, my first thought is they are just being nice because it’s the polite thing to do.
2. I am afraid all the time. Afraid of being my parents, of being a bad parent, of being broken mentally, of being successful, of being a failure. I am a functional Phobia Addict.
3. I still struggle with staying away from porn and sex addiction.
4. I don’t really know if I could turn away my affair if she showed up. The fear of regret and the unknown haunt me. I don’t deserve my wife, I feel like I can’t let myself feel the way I used to, to protect her from me.
OK, questions, curiosities, something you want to know, expand on anything???