Confessions 2

So I just saw my parents; traditionally this has been difficult but it seemed better today. Of course what seems is not always what is, and yet I write this because I felt as though there were a couple of moments today where things were said which felt meaningful. I felt as though, when I spoke to them about my own recent feelings of failure, using words which didn’t overemphasis this incidence, they replied that I always push myself, that I have these high standards for myself.

It’s strange, trying to self-conceptualise. What I will cement, before loosing the phenomenon altogether, is that the voices I hear are just aspects of myself. I must tie this to the fact that I don’t relax as much as other people do, and that this will come after I start to lose all the anxieites and self loathing. I know that all of it is counterproductive anyway, and that all of it is based on an airy premise; something which is not justified, meaningful enough to create such distress. Like becoming delerious over the site of a chair. This will all come, and with it greater self confidence. I still find it hard with mum though, I cannot work out where the boundaires lie between the two of them and so I will stop attempting to work this out. Dad is a nightmare and it comes on strong and direct and horrendously, but mum seems to be the one who triggers this. She is so combative, yet I cannot work out how much of it is conscious. I think a lot more than I usually acknowledge, because to acknowledge it is to start the fight with her. I don’t think she can accept that the dynamic with me is occurring, she can’t acknowledge it because to do so would be to see things in herself which she can’t reconcile with her own self conceptualisation. I don’t trust that she ever commits to any line of thinking, because to do so would potentially let herself be caught. She starts a chain which she knows will catch other people, her lack of any depth of self consciousness means that she will not consider the pain and harm her actions cause. She lives in her own bubble, but I cannot sympathise, for even a moment, because of the horrendous affect it’s had on me. I can’t abide lack of self awareness when other people are hurt- I think people should put themselves first, except when other people are hurt.

She plays, hun, there’s nothing you can do to change this, and so you must put it to bed.

My own self conception, she backs up all the negatives- the idea that we’re all programmed, that nobody truely feels anything for anyone else really anyway.

I’ve lost my way again.

It seems there are certain trains of though it is