I sometimes wonder if it is really enough to just be me. Be myself, in whatever fallible or unacceptable way. Does that lead to happiness? Is happiness even something that can be real and lasting or should we just be "happy" with the occasional times when we do feel Happy, and let the rest go.
Mostly I feel content.... I lie. Mostly I feel discontent... not even that. Mostly I feel like maybe I could be more than I am. I like myself, but I have not made peace with the fact that I am not enough for many others. That they would in some way seek to improve me. Improve on what I am, who I am, how I am.
I like it that I search and explore life, not intent on finding any specific destination, but constantly intrigued by all there is to learn and know. I would like to experience more of life instead of just to learn more, so I have tried to do that slowly and in little ways.
I mostly don't mind that some strangers or friends find me "unacceptable" in whatever way. That some find me in some way displeasing, or not to their liking.
But I occasionally get slightly sad...no I get quite melancholy when I realise, after having told myself over and over that it doesn't matter, that my family sees me in this light.
I realise that my whole life I had not been good enough in some way, or pretty enough, or clever enough, or hard working enough. I had not married rich enough, I am not fashionable enough, thin enough, or pliable enough.
I used to be too shy, but am now not quiet enough, but when I am quiet I am too quiet, and when I speak I speak too much. When I don't drink alcohol, I am unsocial, but when I do drink I drink too much. When I don't know what they are talking about I am quite an outcast, but when I have an opinion I will be cast out.
I feel sad that so much of my life was wasted to attempt to find some kind of acceptance in a family I have very much loved forever. After many years of feeling like the stranger in a strange land though, I sadly come to a realisation that somewhere I will have to accept that I can not be accepted by them, and that this is as a result of my own growth and finding myself. I feel that I have to learn this again and again, year by year. I will be fine with it for some month's until another family holiday appears, and I am reminded of the taste of rejection.
I am not in denial about it. I accept it with great sadness in my heart, and wish it was different, knowing it never will be. I still like me, but my heart breaks that they do not. And by rejecting me they reject my daughter who will never know the joy's of large family get togethers, and fortunately never the pain of family rejection.
I could pretend to not be me, for someone else sake pretend to be what they want me to be, but having done this for 35 years with great failure, how can I now succeed. No. I do not believe I could be all they would want me to be, because I do not think they know what they want me to be.
I think to me this is probably much bigger than it is to any other member of my extended family. To me this probably brings much more emotion than to any one member of a family who do not really know me, want to know me, or in any way even think to care. For if they actually did, surely this would not be so hard.
So will my happiness lie in just forgetting that they exist? Or not caring about them, should I not feel so much?
Should I be less wanting of their love?
I'm not sure I think I have confused myself again and might not post this at all.
Then on the other hand why should I apologise for being an emotional being, and for feeling this so deeply. Why have I always had the idea that I must hide my true emotions at every point. I refuse to do that. I am who I am and will be me. In that process I might have to share my pain, and be rejected for it. That would add to my pain, but I must be able to experience it in my own way in order to get through it somehow.