Refusing to Accept


It´s funny about the human mind.

You take any given situation, that in itself is not good or bad, but merely existing. Add some human thought, and it starts interpreting the situation, after which it reacts. Reacting costs so much energy! And yet I do it all the time. I react in the same way as the guy above, my face in wrinkles, a semi-permanent frown on my face.

I vowed that I wouldn´t be like that and look where I´m now. Locked in a struggle that doesn´t do anything to enrich my life. It just adds misery. Refusing to accept my body, but most of all refusing to accept things that happened long ago, which then reflect on my dysphoria (acting like a mirror). I´m unsure how to get over it. People say, “count to ten“.

When these unresolved emotions join with my shipwrecked hormones to do an exuberant dance and let out terrifying war cries, just counting to ten seriously does not help. So how the freak do you let go of resenting your body, of resenting the past, of resenting the fact that you made it to this day carrying a truckload of baggage?

I want escape, but transition is no escape. It´s just a bend of the river, a different direction. When you´re hanging on to pain (that´s what resentment and anger boil down to) it´s like hanging on to a giant rock. You´ll just be bobbing down that river embracing the rock and struggling to stay on the surface. Mission Impossible.

So why am I embracing that rock? Easy – blame. Like Simba in the Lion King, I´ve been blamed for crap that just happened to me. Simba bought Scar´s lies and went to the jungle to feel really lousy until a monkey stopped by to whack him in the head and tell him to confront his past. Ah, that movie is so epic. Walt Disney, you genius.

But Simba had a Rafiki, a Nala, Pumbaa and Timon to tell him he was being an arse. Simba isn´t me – I already know I´m being an arse. I just need someone to dress up and do the Hula, when I´m tracking down the evil mastermind (my inner mastermind).


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