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Rooting Around the Archives

I'm rooting around my "misc text" files, searching for e-mail addresses of all things. I just found this – I think I wrote it about a year ago … thought I'd toss it up here, see who picks it up …

… Here is something I've been thinking about … I believe we each have many selves. In fact, this was part of what I was taught in theatre school – to identify and draw on and honour the many versions of self in order to create characters, to interpret scripts, scenes, perspectives. It follows, then that we each have a best self and a worst self. The bright shining light and the dark cellar of despair. Our day-to-day functional self probably falls somewhere in between. Lately, I've observed that some people were raised to share their worst self with the people closest to them, reserving the "best" self for public view. My father was like this, to an extreme. He would travel and bring presents back for neighbours but nothing for his family. I became aware of this in my family when I was quite young and have always thought it was weird behaviour to punish the people closest to me for caring about me. As an adult, I continue to bear witness to this phenonmenon, all around me, and I continue to be confused by it. It is true that those closest probably will get glimpses of the worst self, and should be able to help you withstand the dark times … but what prize is there in being close to someone who gives away their best energy elsewhere, leaving none for the inner circle?

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