the mirror

Was thinking last night about the lies we tell ourselves.
Our life is played out as a series of events lived in our heads. We shape what we see to please our own needs no matter how shitty things really are.

Tell ourselves we are loved.
Tell ourselves we love others, then start the laborious process of convincing ourselves its true.
Everyone does it most of the time. The vast majority do it without even realizing its so.

My curse is i look too much. I work actively at not bullshitting myself. I can't tell you how many times Ive been told to just stop examining.
Just go with the flow and i admit to periods when i do just that.

The problem is that for the folks who are observers or "watchers" as i like to call them, life is just different.

Writers fall into that category. They spend their whole lives watching. People, the weather, crashes, marriages whatever. They observe every reaction, every detail. They see the lies you tell yourself and the hard truth that is the reality of a scenario. Others refuse to look, its too close or too hard to deal with. Writers choose to stare at the sun for a few seconds.

Today has been one of those hard truth days for me. I have been going over the lies I've told myself, have made myself believe that for whatever reason are no longer working.
I call the hard rock surface of reality the mirror.

Its a mirror because once you finally REALLY see it you see yourself, warts and all. Clear of the lies and illusions, of the bullshit you fill so much of your days with. Looking at that mirror tends to cause two reactions.

You either embrace it, accepting yourself for that thing you are no matter how awful or
you go running back to the safety of your lies.

You find something, anything you get your thoughts off that "thing" and on to something more palatable.
I'm guilty of it too. I'm not special or great, i Just don't do it right away.

I tend to spend time looking at that mirror and owning all the shit that asshole did and does. Sometimes i think he's a waste of flesh.

Then i see my grandson. He's drawing dragons, or warriors. He is blissfully  content and free. He KNOWS Captain America is the shit no matter what his mother says. He moves me to tears.
He reminds me how selfish we can be sometimes. he reminds me what its all really about.
To hell with the mirror. It was never about you to begin with. Its always been about...them.