It is a very dangerous thing losing who you are. Tricky because once you become lost, far away from your center, it is very hard to get back to that core. It happens to us all, something occurred within our life that spawned us to put on shells, different faces– Strong egos. The intention of course is for protection; “that’s not happening to me again,” we say. It is so, that whatsoever protects you, ultimately imprisons you. It is the nature of protection. To protect something is to be responsible for that thing. To be responsible for that thing is to advise for that thing. That thing is now within the walls of the protectors guidance. Whoever you were is now constructed and built on the advice and opinions of that protector. Look at that mother to her child. Look at that husband to his wife. Look at that teacher to her student. Look at that Christian God to his people. Look at that ego, that shell.
It becomes even more tricky. The people you will meet and have relationships with are not meeting you. They are meeting the layer upon layer of you. It is one of the things I attribute to the rise of divorce: People becoming more aware of who they are. A marriage of fifteen years fall because one has awaken. “What the fuck, this is not me, I never liked that, this is what I like.” Their partner of fifteen years now confused, “Who the fuck are you?” The marriage somewhat of a fraud–none never really knowing the other. In the past women may have stayed in their role, and sucked it up through death. These days, women have no fear of independence. They go forward and look for who they are. They look for happiness.
One day when I was in high school I was home playing video games. My mother was dating a guy for about six months. He had a bit of potential as a male role model for me, so the relationship escalated rather quickly. He had some things at our place. My mother stormed in the door, went to her room, grabbed his things, and started throwing them out the window. I looked down and saw mister potential picking up his things, cussing in French; fucking woman this and fucking woman that.
I asked my mother what happened.
“He didn’t like that I was dancing,” She said.
“I thought you guys went out to dance?” I asked her.
“Yes, but he was embarrassed at the way I was dancing.” She said. “Stop dancing like that, people are looking, wah, wah, wah.” She mimicked him.
She then gave me a lesson: “Never let anyone suppress your spirit.”
I see it all the time. A husband is out with his wife. A boy out with his girlfriend. She is expressive in her dress. She feels sexy. She wants to express sexy, it is how she feels. The husband stands away, shy. He doesn’t want to be too associated with her. People are watching with their opinions: “How could he let her come out the house like that.” As if you have the fucking right to tell a person what to wear. He is embarrassed to stand next to his wife looking sexy for the world. This same person that wants his wife to be porno deviant in bed. The boy on the other end of the spectrum grips close to her. He is in protection mode. Afraid someone else may scoop her up. He overprotects. He suffocates. Even the ones closest to you don’t want you to be who you are. They want you in your shell. They want you to conform. “People are watching.”
The moment you start valuing other people opinions, and start listening to their advice, is the moment you become truly lost. Those opinions are just meant to feed your shell. Make your shell fat and gaudy to further enslave you. Those advice are based off those people experience of their life, not yours. Two things are never the same. Life is not mathematics. Life is mystery. Life is mystical. As you are at home, comfortable, walking and thinking, talking to yourself, and dancing when the mood hits; it is how you should be always. Free. Relaxed. Loose. Sexy.
People will look at you like you are a fool, like you are madly insane. Pay them no fucking mind. They are just jealous fucking haters. They wish they could be relax and free as you. Be as sexy as you. They are the same people that say this or that movie, book, song is great, because it is the same opinions of others, it is not theirs. They are just repetitive. Unoriginal. Fucking slaves. You are free, flowing, and talking to the butterfly. They call you an idiot, yet, they are the ones whose heads are bowed to a marble statue. You embrace life. You embrace nature. You take it as it comes. You don’t mask it with experience, opinions or advice. You are your fucking self. Be that. Be your sexy fab self.