Being Seen in Stuff about stuff

Near the beginning of this year, the Lady and I were discussing fear. The way she embraces it and learns from it (is there anything she doesn’t learn from?) while I run like hell and avoid it and bury it and pretend it’s not there. I’ve never done much of anything that I was really afraid of.
My life is filled and overflowing with ridiculous, insane, horrible, self-inflicted ironies. I hide from my fear and pretend it’s not there, which does nothing but build it into this insurmountable, awful thing in the back of my mind. Always lurking just under my consciousness. So I live my life paralyzed by a fear that I won’t even admit exists, let alone actually try and face it. If I did actually face it, I would learn that it’s not going to destroy me. Exactly the opposite. Facing my fear can only make me stronger, more resilient, more self-aware. But I cower like the coward I truly am. More precisely, the coward I have convinced myself I am. I set up a system of thought that lets fear run my life, make my decisions. One of the results of this is that whenever I am faced with anything that scares me, I retreat inward. I insulate myself from outside influences. I deny information that would break apart the fear and the system. I actively seek out, twist, and flat out fabricate “information” that validates the fear. I twist the words and meanings of anyone trying to help. I wait for a tiny little fragment scrap of out-of-context words that I can grip onto and delude myself into believing confirms my fears.
Everyone isn’t out to get me. They’re not plotting against me. They are plotting for me. They are trying desperately to get through to me, and I am taking their care, their deep affection, their selfless love, and cutting them with it. As deeply as I can manage. Shaming them. Threatening them. Abusing them. Because they care. Because they dared to give a fuck about me. Because they are trying anything they can think of to help me break through the fear.
While the Lady and I were discussing fear, the conversation continued while we had sex. When she was on top of me, and I was seconds away from finishing, she asked me again what my biggest fear was. Without thinking (because who can actually think at a time like that?) I said, “Being seen,” and immediately came. As my brain reactivated and I began to think again, I realized it was absolutely the truth. What I’m really, deeply, ridiculously afraid of.. the fear that completely runs my life while the rest of me is fighting every second to protect it… is being seen for who I really am.
Now that I’ve had several months to find out what happens when I really am seen (because I definitely am seen for what and who I really am by now), I’m thinking my biggest fear isn’t actually being seen. I’m thinking my biggest fear is seeing myself. That’s what the system of reality denial is doing. It’s not preventing anyone who pays attention from seeing me. It’s preventing me from seeing myself. It’s (I’m) lashing out and abusing others for having the nerve to show me to myself. How dare they want me to accept reality.
But really, how dare I fight against that. How dare I hurt and fight and abuse the people I love. For any reason. How dare I hurt anybody at all, in fact. What do I think gives me the right? What makes me different than everyone else? What makes me believe that I can harm people like this? For any fucking reason at all, let alone for this reason. This asinine, ridiculous, laughably (if it wasn’t so horrible) stupid reason. Excuse. Not reason.
If I hadn’t been doing it this long, with this amount of viciousness, with such an insane depth of denial, I don’t think I’d believe anyone was capable of these levels of self-deception. I wouldn’t believe this character in a book. I would hate the character, and laugh at the author for thinking anyone would believe it. I mean, seriously. What in the fuck do I think gives me the right? What in fucking hell do I think makes me different from everyone else? Why in god damn fucking FUCK do I believe I’m better than everyone else, and how can I still believe that when I KNOW I’m not? When I KNOW my actions have had devastating consequences to every single person I care about? When I can see with my own fucking eyes the pain I’ve caused. On purpose. To avoid reality.
I am not outside of reality, I just pretend to be. While stomping on the hearts of the people I love.
What an awful person I have been. Chosen to be. What an awful person I continue to be.
It’s way WAY past time to choose to be better than that. To choose to not hurt anyone. To choose to listen to my heart, instead of my twisted, abusive, poisoned mind.
I almost said, “to choose to have a heart”. But that may be the worst part of all of this. I do have a heart. And I can feel the pain I’m causing. And I’m doing it anyway. Maybe to spite myself for having empathy.