Anguished Introspection

[She] had gone through life borrowing other people’s personalities rather than going through the trouble of developing her own. She found it was a good way of avoiding the anguished introspection that most people seemed prey to.

— Kate Atkinson, Not the End of the World

Today (this week, this month or what little there’s been of it) has been a day (week, month) of anguished introspection for me. This entry has been a long time coming, and really, most of the time it’s taken will have been spent sorting out just exactly what I want to say. I don’t mean for it to be discouraging, because I know if I convince myself that I’ve fallen too far, I’ll give up for good. There’s hope. There always is hope, isn’t there?

If I try very hard, I can think back to a time in elementary school when I really liked who I was. I can narrow it down to fifth grade. The progression downwards was so slow that I barely noticed. Sometime in high school I realized that I didn’t like myself and to remember that I used to was actually quite a shock. How did I make that progression? Comparing myself to other people? Or did I actually change?

Recently, in one disheartening moment, I knew that what little I do like about myself has either been a simple result of the huge leg up I’ve been given in life (parents still married and supportive, tight family overall, middle class Canadian, top-notch friends) or has been forced out of me by those who, for whatever reason, thought (think) it worthwhile to guide me through this mess of roads I’m on.

I used to watch talk shows after school and shake my head with a pretentious air of (imagined) superiority at all the guests. How messed up their lives were! How misguided! How far they’d missed the mark! I do feel bad for thinking things like that now. I’ve been handed everything in life. I’ve been supported and taught and directed and protected. Of course I’m well-adjusted. It’s not because of anything I’ve done. In my position, anyone would turn out with faith and security. There are horrors in the world that are happening to people right now that I wouldn’t even be able to fathom; who the hell am I to be judging anyone? I’m the last person who should be.

All my life I’ve been proud of myself for being so upstanding and moral and on such a straight path! I’ve never had or wanted a cigarette, done drugs, been drunk (been tipsy), failed a class, gone too far with a boy (gone anywhere with a boy, sigh), sworn at my parents (yelled at my parents, excluding the years before six when no one knows better), etc. And sure, they’re things to be proud of. But I don’t have any reason, when you think about it, to have done many of those things. Parents are parents but mine are also infuriatingly logical. I have no interest in mind altering substances because I think life is pretty sweet as it is. There’s nothing to escape from. My friends, even the ones who aren’t Christians, feel much the same. In that light, all my upright habits aren’t that admirable. They’re expected.

For a long time I thought of myself as compassionate and loyal. Part of me still thinks so, thinks I am, but it is a lot easier to see, now, that I am really just a selfish person with those qualities when it suits me. It’s a very humbling thing to realize. Mainly because, as a child of God, I am called to so much more. I can be compassionate, sure. On my schedule and my budget and my medium and in my comfort zone. Beyond that, I’m self-centered and that’s where it ends. It’s gotten to the point where, the way I react to things, I know it should disgust me and on some levels it does, but so am I bound to egotism that most of me doesn’t even care. It’s that bad.

In the broadest terms, I heed the wisdom that’s been imparted to me. Sometimes it doesn’t apply. Left to my own devices, I only watch out for myself and don’t give back what’s been given to me unless I feel like it.

Luckily for me, human failure isn’t new or uncommon (or, let’s be honest, surprising in a general sense). Luckily for me, everyone has fallen short of the glory we’re called to. Along with God, though, the sky is the limit. But then, even the sky has holes in it. Perhaps we need not worry overmuch about our limitations. And that gives me hope.