The day I realised my role models were scams

C. Befoune
Nov 4, 2017 · 5 min read
Source: Massive Online Party

This morning I woke up wanting only one thing. A cold glass of coke.

You guys know my story with coke right? Me wanting that glass meant one of two things: either I was getting ready for a huge burden, or I was ready to put down a huge burden.

A friend asked me a while ago why I stopped writing here on Medium. I told him it was because I don’t how to “make my words lie”. Since I was a kid, writing has been the only way for me to tell my truth. I can lie to people. I can lie to myself. But once I grab a pen or the keyboard, the truth will find a way to force itself out. Just as it did the day I wrote about not wanting to have kids. What I did my best to erase from my memories came out. From my subconscious to my fingers, from my fingers to the keyboard, from the keyboard to the world.

I avoided writing because my truth was so heavy. I couldn’t face it. I was not ready to let it out. Lying to myself was so much easier. So much… better. But this morning, with that big and cold glass of coke, I felt ready. Ready to tell myself it was high time for me to put down the burden, to alleviate that opressing sensation in my chest.

I trust people. A lot. I get inspired by people. I draw my strength from people. People doing amazing stuff, people inspiring me to be better, to do better. I look up to people. It’s like… a need. Each and every major step in my life was inspired by someone, someone who had a great impact in my life at that time.

It started with a word. An attitude. An action. From someone. Then someone else. Then someone else again. I refused to see them but they were there, in my memories, in me, and I just couldn’t… look at it and tell myself this is really happening.

It’s like the pandora box. Once you start looking inside, you just can’t stop. You know what you see can and will crush your world, but you just can’t stop. I couldn’t stop looking at these people, finding flaws in what I used to think were examplary actions, going to them to talk, more and more, to hear them lie to me. I felt like I needed them to lie to me. I needed to look them in the face and tell myself This is exactly what you got yourself into.

I talk and talk and talk, but I still did not tell you guys what is really happening with me. I realised many of the people I trusted, many of the people I draw my strength from, many of the people who inspired me to do what I am doing today are scams. It seems so simple when put that way. But part of my world got crushed by me realising that… years later.

Have you ever looked up to someone just to realise the person is like 99 feet under you when it comes to commitment, honesty, goodness and… truth? I’ve been lied to by friends and boyfriends, but I just feel like it was easier for me to cope with that. It’s part of the “game”. Working that hard to change things for the better is not a game to me. And looking people I trusted lie to masses, making them believe they are there for them and fighting for them just to get enough visibility and credibility to collect money here and there crushed me. For real.

I feel like a scam. I feel supporting them made me part of the scam. I feel I have been lying to people who trusted me enough to believe my words when I said They can be trusted. I feel like… burrying myself 6 feet under and die from suffocation, feeling worms enter my body and eat me from the inside. I feel like deserving to die a painful death. The feeling is heavy. But at least, allowing myself to feel that way means I finally faced the truth. What I was doing my very best not to see is now there… splendidly shining under the sun.

It is scary.

It is scary to work hard to achieve something meaningful just to find yourself in a “scammy” environment. I found myself calling the small number of people I still trust to ask them Please tell me, am I a scam? Yes, it went that far. I did not even know anymore if I was still who I thought I was. In French we say Dis-moi avec qui tu marches, je te dirai qui tu es. Hanging out with these people meant I was just like them. A liar pretending to work to change a sector for the better just for her to be able to collect money here and there. Though I never did it, I started doubting myself. Assessing everything I achieved, questioning everything I ever did.

Someone once told me feelings toward people do not matter. What matters is what you can get from them when you need them. Feelings should never come between you and your achievements. You will have to deal with people you don’t like, people you look down to to be able to reach your goals. You cannot avoid that.

Problem is I don’t do shades of grey. It is either black or white with me. No time to deal with people I don’t respect, no matter what we went through in the past. I went too far in my life to dare opening my door again to people who do not deserve my consideration. But before opening a door, you need to close it. Close the door to years of working hard to match those I looked up to. Close the door to what and I believed in. It is harder than you can think, my people. If you ever have to it, don’t. Don’t close the door. No. Slam it. Slam it with all the strength in your arm. Slam it for it to never open again.

This morning I drank a huge glass of coke.

This morning I slammed the door.

Then I grabbed my laptop to write this farewell text. This morning I am saying farewell to people I considered mentors. This morning I am saying farewell to people I considered friends. This morning I am saying farewell to people I considered changemakers. This morning I am taking back my trust in them.

I feel relieved. Depressed, but relieved. Life comes with good and bad. Coke has been created for me to be able to cope with everything that comes to me.

Hello, my name is Befoune and I am afraid I am a scam. Clap if you enjoyed reading this text. And clap even if it is not the case. I need you to cheer me. For real.

C. Befoune

Written by

Bleeding on paper, unleashing the human. I stopped writing here. Find me on mesdigressions.com