I’m not perfect, except for sometimes

I’ve always considered myself to be a decent — actually more than decent — human being. If I wasn’t me, I would want to be friends with me.

I think.

Wait…

Now, I’m suddenly not so sure.

For starters, I’m cringingly insecure. Point proven right this second. Here’s me, second guessing whether I actually would want to be friends with myself if I wasn’t me.

This paradox is confusing. Do I still refer to myself as me if I’m imagining not being me? Oh well, I digress.

Back to the point. I’m scared of just about everything — flying, being attacked, losing people, death, letting my family down, letting my friends down, letting my co-workers down, letting strangers down.

I let myself down a lot. That’s one thing I’m not scared to do.

I rarely take risks, because what if I fail?

I rarely stand up for myself, because what if the other doesn’t like me anymore?

I rarely say I’m unhappy, because what if I lose something — friends, family, my job?

I’m never good enough for my own standards, how could I ever be good enough for someone else?

And then I have these little magical moments — usually when counselling a friend over their own silly insecurities (not dissimilar to my own) — where I believe I am amazing.

In these rare, magical moments there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I’d want to be friends with me. In fact, suddenly, I’m certain everyone would want to be friends with me. Because… duh! Look at me. I’m clever, confident, comfortable-in-my-own-skin, caring, capable, and other wonderful C-words. I’m honest, straight-forward, and most importantly, I’m happy.

Now, I don’t want you to think me arrogant, but I’m desperately trying to figure out how to have more of these moments. Because they make me feel alive, and as though I can take on the world.

Is arrogance the price to pay for these magical feelings?

The journey of self-discovery is a bit like navigating a foreign city without a guide or GPS. You know more or less where you want to end up — or not — and discover places you never knew existed.

Some of the unexpected discoveries end up to be wonderful surprises. Others real shitholes. Sometimes it’s exhilarating and fun, sometimes it’s scary and dangerous.

But hey, that’s life! You have to explore in order to live meaningfully.

There’s value in knowing which back-alleys of the mind you’re uncomfortable exploring. The ones where fear and doubt run the streets. Or there where self-doubt are the streetlights shining brightly on perceived shortcomings.

Imagine the mind as a city where, at some point, you knew every street and every building. You knew everything that happened behind every door.

You liked that city. Every street was filled with wonder and possibility, and every door lead to excitement and discovery.

Until you didn’t.

I think this is what happens to us as we grow up and are conditioned by the system (social norms, education system, parenting, religion, and so on). I can write pages about the system — maybe another time, I think you get it.

Some of the streets of the mind are closed off and ‘No Entry’ signs erected (by the system). Buildings are locked and the keys hidden away from us. Over time we forget the wonders we experienced in those streets and buildings.

We unconditionally adhere to the signs. Like nervous travellers we try to avoid the demarcated areas of our mind.

But sometimes we wander off (maybe lured in by a fellow traveller) and find ourselves in a place that feels unfamiliarly familiar, a little scary, and yet cosy and enjoyable. Those magical moments when happiness rush up to meet us.

We tear down a barrier or find a key that unlocks a door and we start exploring the area, like when we were younger. Without fear, without doubt, and ready to take on the world.

That’s where we discover the fulfilment — the confidence, the wisdom, the plethora of C-words. And the happiness.

The mind is a powerful thing — bet you heard that before! It truly is remarkable and entirely (mostly) in our control.

“We suffer more in imagination than in reality” — Seneca

I have to remind myself often of this.

Arrogant? Not a chance!

I‘ll be the best friend ever. But first I’ll become my own best friend.