Cry freedom

Scratch Bombay. Say life, instead?


Came out of therapy today, thinking about just how much bloody work it takes (even after one has peeled off many ,any upper layers to get closer to the authentic self) to make any head way with the work of getting over all the unnecessary things I think about myself. On a daily basis — there’s a bedrock of seemingly small judgements, piled high with layer upon layer of daily self-loathing. Over that comes the beating-myself-up for petty transgressions, just for some crunch. And finally the fluffy top layer of shame. And it’s all deceptively delicious, pretty to look at and promises to pack a serious punch.

There comes a point after when the road to the authentic self gets so subtle and the shifts so nuanced, it’s like clutching at straws. This moving from the level of the personality to the inner core involves so much of moving away from what I think I know about myself, to what I discover of myself, when I have successfully let every little judgement, every bit of shame, every unnecessary standard fall away.


One year ago: Digging to find the happy
Two years ago: The future is no place to place your better days

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