The choices that make us who we are

Lately, I've been sad to realise that I'm not compatible with someone I really like as a result of the choices I've made in my life. It's made me think about how much of my identity means anything to me. How much of myself I recognise when I look in the mirror. The truth is, it isn't very much.

I'm sure part of the reason for this is my upbringing. I read a great article that alluded to "the false self" which is a persona that one creates in order to receive their parents' approval. Evolutionarily speaking, parental approval was necessary for survival, and I failed to realise how far we'd come since being hunters and gatherers when seeking the approval of my parents. And partly, I was just too young to be able to recognize my father's inability to recognise my unique gifts and talents and abilities as "enough." Now that I've matured a little, I see those same traits in me: an ex of mine put it well when he said, "That's good. Stay hungry."

Well, I've done an excellent job of staying hungry. I'm so hungry, in fact, that sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be full.

How many of my choices came from my inability to be satisfied with my life? It's hard to say. But how much of it was rebellion against my dad, staying friends with Amber, my first cigarette at 14, all that other shit I did as her "friend," the boys I chose to date that made my friends and family shake their heads and ask as delicately as possible, "Why do you like him?"

I've had a major introduction into what I look for in a man in the last year, much of which has been healthy development. After all, it is good to finally understand what makes a man appealing, no?

But even now, how often am I afraid to be who I am? How often do I need someone else's help to break out of my false persona and be myself? How often do I hide out of foolish pride?

I can't help but be frustrated, fighting to love myself through the last five years, and watching my gains swallowed up, again and again, by that old demon of mine, backsliding. (bless that OCD) So, again, I find myself, fighting and arguing with myself for self-acceptance; I'm picking myself up, yet again, and forging a stronger being to replace the one destroyed yet again.

Man, is this getting old.

* * *

If I could do just one thing in my lifetime, I would convince the Christian voters of this nation that voting against your religious beliefs doesn't not make you a "bad" Christian. I would challenge everyone who fears the judgement of their faith leader (isn't that what this is about? oh... you answer to someone else? weird) to go to one of those websites that allows you to pick where you stand on the issues, and then lets you know which presidential candidate with whom you are most aligned. I would challenge them to pick the issues based on the relevant passages of their preferred religious text, and see where their "[insert faith here]-friendly" candidates fall out. Voting for a candidate who is not pro-choice is no worse for your standing with god than voting for a candidate who wants to cut taxes for the rich. Faith has no place in politics, and as long as you allow your faith leaders to make you think you can't make your own decisions, we will not have a democracy. We will have a miedocracy (i realise i'm mixing my latin and greek roots, but it means "ruled by fear"). Don't let your instincts be exploited anymore.

I know free will is a scary thought, folks, but it's time we started exercising our brains.