[the following originated as a facebook post; I have expanded on it extensively here so it’s not the same text, but incorporates it and delves deeper into the idea.]
the original facebook post – see how short and simple it is? what have I done????
I am so weary of cynicism. I get that it is my default, along with sarcasm, as a response to difficult situations and emotions, and served to protect me many times. But, as I age up I’m finding it less and less valuable. Less rewarding, and definitely caustic in all relationships I have.
It’s not to say that cynicism is inherently bad, or that I was wrong to indulge in it. There are situations when the protective barriers need to go up, and for me, that was most of my childhood and young(er) adulthood. However at this time in my life, it’s less a safe haven and more a swamp to drown in.
Part of my connection to it was the idea that if I was harsh enough, jaded enough, I would become the level-headed, seriously-minded, and, yes, “cool chick” of my dreams. Cynicism was a sign of wisdom, a form of enlightenment, the inverse of naiveté. I wanted to be invincible and bad-ass. I longed for the feeling of being in control and too smart to be taken advantage of. I refused to be viewed as “soft” or “fragile” or “broken.” I danced to angry music, lifted heavy weights, drank too much.
Of course, the truth will out, as they say. I’m rather soft, physically and emotionally. I have been fragile many times in my life. I break easily and often which has left me fractured in many, many ways…as I have come to discover that we all are, to different extents. Some of us hide it better than others, and I thought cynicism would hide the parts of me that made me feel vulnerable and squishy.
But I learned, through the years, that the the coolest, most bad-ass, hardest-hearted of people are usually far more broken, and often toxic, than I ever imagined. That was not a direction I was willing to go, so it was this realization that led me, a long time ago, to look into concepts like ‘learned optimism’ and practicing compassion. Meditation helped, too. A little.
In the end, cynicism, along with its cousins bitterness and shame, felt easier. Safer. And how ironic is that? But I knew that the path I was headed down was wrong. The place I had gotten to by going in that direction for years was not where I wanted to be. More specifically, I was not who I wanted to be.
That of course begs the question: who do I want to be?
It is a question that has resurfaced several times over the past ten years, usually in conjunction with an emotional breakdown or anxiety attack. I have usually addressed it by deciding to change what I DO, as opposed to thinking about changing who I AM. Seemed easier, overall. But the doing of such things as I thought would turn my life into something glorious and fulfilling never worked quite that way.
I was applying plaster to structural damage.
I guess that is where therapy comes in. I make no secret of being in therapy, so I don’t find it exciting or revelatory to reference it in regards to personal growth. For two years now I have been working with a professional EMDR practitioner and the results have been, literally, life saving. I’ve changed, and in the changing, become lighter of spirit and happier of mind. While I was scared at times during the process of what would become of me, I learned that changing myself was actually helping me live a richer, more rewarding life.
It has opened me up to the question of “who do I want to be” but more critically, opened me up to accepting who I am.
While it’s enlightening to become, it is also disconcerting to undo.
Some of it is superficial — am I still someone who wears black and drinks coffee and is a fangirl? Oh yes. I’ve moved from “bright young thing” to “elder goth” but that is a transformation of age, not essence. I will always get starry-eyed over Wonder Woman. But now I think I’d like a softer presentation, a sense of style more informed by my femininity. I was never the shape to be androgynous but I tried hard to have sharp edges, a “fierce” look that bordered on masculine. That’s just not me anymore.
(Was it ever me? Really? I think so, in that it was who I was trying to be, the kind of person I wanted to internalize in order to actualize, but it developed out of a place of fear, trauma, and defensiveness. So, it was less my person and more a personna. We are often far more comfortable with ourselves when behind our masks.)
There are parts of it that sink deep, though, and my perception of myself as a cynic is one of those undoings. I have far more easily recognized that I am a demiromantic, which informs a lot of my romantic disasters (falling in love with your best friend seems to work better in the movies…). I’ve also realized that, indeed, I am a romantic at heart. A romantic outlook is something I’ve spent most of my life sneering at (and still do, on off days) but it’s there, a part of me that goes back a long ways. I’ve always fought it. Cool, experienced, cynical people do not “do” romance, amirite??!?!? They don’t, but apparently, I do. I doubt I’ll ever be a fan of rom-com movies, but I can’t deny my preference for happy, romantic endings to stories. My displeasure with the “grim-dark” genre of everything these days is directly related to these changes as well.
Seeing myself in a softer focus, more accepting of my femininity and my romantic inclinations, led me to thinking more critically about my approach to vulnerability. Like most of the population on Earth, I have watched Brene Brown’s famous TEDtalk from 2010 on vulnerability’s role in living a whole-hearted life, so I know it’s important, even if I have spent years shying away from that truth.
At the end of 2017, right before the new year,I decided it was time to revisit that video, and this time, I took notes. I broke down the precepts she presents there into two complimentary groups:
- ATTITUDE:
- courage to be imperfect
- compassion to be kind to self and others
- connection as a result of authenticity
- embrace vulnerability
- ACTION:
- let myself be seen
- love with my whole heart
- practice gratitude and joy
- believe that I am ENOUGH
I wrote about this in my “end of year wrap up post “bad years are like controlled burns“, where I also presciently concluded: “2018 is a year of change, but not of revolution – 2018 is the year of evolution, for me.”
What I have discovered is that practicing being vulnerable led inexorably to shedding my cynicism, which is definitely an unintended consequence. I have not been particularly bothered by my cynicism, honestly, I think because I was aware that it was in part a defensive, protective tactic. Yet, it is skittering away like liquid mercury.
It’s not a linear process. I can still be possessed by moments of cynicism and bitter, angry sarcasm with the best of ’em. That feels more forced than natural, though. I find myself stopping instinctively and not saying something that would have tripped out of my mouth thoughtlessly a year ago, stopping to find a different way to say it, or question if it needs to be said at all.
I think I am revealing the person I have longed to be, honestly; a truer self than the one I tried to construct. Parts of me that felt discordant, or shameful, or weird, are settling in together in a process of integration that is profound to consider. It is the actualization of who I was as an innocent child, who I tried to be as a traumatized young adult, and who I am now in my middle-age.
Fear and trauma have driven my life for so long, I forgot who I was at heart. Here I am, though, figuring out the pieces of the jigsaw that makes me who I am. I’m not sure who that person is, though, and for a while I felt a bit unmoored and confused. What does that person look like? Act like? Be like?
So, I looked around for role models. And yes, I feel role models are important. We shouldn’t set out to replicate their lives but it is good to keep in mind those who represent your ideals and what you hope your best self can be. (I think it says a lot about me that from the time I was very young, my two primary role models were Wonder Woman and Mae West!)
I started poking around the interwebz, watching vids, asking myself, “is that the kind of person I am? Is that the way I want to be remembered? Is that the impact I want to have on other people’s’ lives?”
While the Dali Lama has been an inspiration for many, many years, I always saw him through the lens of “well he’s a super enlightened human and I’m just me.” I never looked at him and thought, “this is my role model.” In the end, I did not have to turn far afield, or even leave my childhood, because it turns out a role model was here all along: Mr. Rogers. I cannot think of a more beloved, kindhearted, wholehearted, worthy person and when I think of him I think, “yes, I want to be like that.” Perhaps it sounds odd to say “I want to be like Mr. Rogers” when I am not a child, I am not a parent or caretaker, and I do not work directly with children ever. It’s not about children, though, it’s about how he treated every person he met as someone worthwhile and whole, no matter who they were or how old/young they were. It’s about his unconditional love for people and his ability to empower and enlighten them in the kindest, most compassionate ways.
There are others: Maya Angelou and Jeffrey Marsh and Ellen Degeneres and, yes, Wonder Woman. They are all human (well, except for Wonder Woman) and they have faults, I’m sure. I’m not looking to deify anyone (well, except for Wonder Woman!!!). What I am looking for are examples of behavior that I want to emulate, approaches to life I want to actualize.
What I see when I look at these role models is that their kindness and open-heartedness does not make them weak or naive. That their strength comes from their vulnerability. That they built their connections to others through compassion and altruism and honesty. I see that my cynicism makes me a pale shade of the people I admire most, and ironically puts distance between myself and others.
I think my goal for the next act in my life is to emulate those behaviors and attitudes of love, acceptance, and integrity. It is possible to be genuine while also being kind, to be honest while also being compassionate.
I suspect this will be a steep learning curve for me — defensive habits die hard, after all. But I feel it as a calling.