Dear Friends and Family,
Who knows us? That's a question that I've been thinking about lately.
I think about me and who knows me. And, I wonder if I really know the people I think I know. I know Mr. mouse is a lot more trusting than I am that he believes a lot more in people than I do. His trust is more transitive than mine. If there's someone he trusts, and they trust someone else, he tends to trust the third person as well. But, if there's someone I trust, and they trust someone else, well, to me, that third person is still a stranger and only a couple notches above the average person I might see walking down the street.
And, I wonder who knows me. I think on the surface I am a happy person with likable traits, I think. But, underneath that there's a layer that can get sad and troubled with baggage from the past and ghosts and paranoias and demons aplenty. I don't like to admit to that side of me, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit it existed. I feel like the less I acknowledge it the less voice it has. I wonder if other people have similar fears or if this is something most people live their whole lives without encountering. I wonder if it can be inherited or learned. I wonder if it's something I need to watch for in P.
If you go deeper, you find something else, more. In some members of my family, it is hard and brittle and, perhaps, broken. In others, it's more tempered, more resilient, but still strong. This thing, I'm not sure where it comes from, but when backed into a corner, it refuses to yield, it fights without compromise. Only, for me, it exacts a price. After long periods of high stress, my thyroid yields, it forgets how to work and I need medication to get it back under control. I know that repeated rounds of medication will eventually kill my thyroid, so I know I need to figure this out, but in reality I don't think I have. I want to teach P to be strong, but I don't think it's healthy to have this. I hope it's not inherited, but sadly I think it can be. I already see shades of it in P.
Yet, deep inside, there's a place that still trusts and still believes and still loves and is willing to be vulnerable. I know that is the person Mr. mouse fell in love with. But, I feel like that is a place with a strong door with a big lock and I'm not sure where I've put the key. I don't think I can find the key. I think I need to wait for the key to find me. Perhaps one day Mr. mouse will find that person again. I kind of hope he does because I kind of like her. I have faith that I will one day because when I see P I see her. P still trusts and believes and loves. She hasn't picked up the fears and darkness and anger that people my head.
I hope that her world can continue, at least a little longer, to be that happy place.
Cheers!
mouse
Who knows us? That's a question that I've been thinking about lately.
I think about me and who knows me. And, I wonder if I really know the people I think I know. I know Mr. mouse is a lot more trusting than I am that he believes a lot more in people than I do. His trust is more transitive than mine. If there's someone he trusts, and they trust someone else, he tends to trust the third person as well. But, if there's someone I trust, and they trust someone else, well, to me, that third person is still a stranger and only a couple notches above the average person I might see walking down the street.
And, I wonder who knows me. I think on the surface I am a happy person with likable traits, I think. But, underneath that there's a layer that can get sad and troubled with baggage from the past and ghosts and paranoias and demons aplenty. I don't like to admit to that side of me, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit it existed. I feel like the less I acknowledge it the less voice it has. I wonder if other people have similar fears or if this is something most people live their whole lives without encountering. I wonder if it can be inherited or learned. I wonder if it's something I need to watch for in P.
If you go deeper, you find something else, more. In some members of my family, it is hard and brittle and, perhaps, broken. In others, it's more tempered, more resilient, but still strong. This thing, I'm not sure where it comes from, but when backed into a corner, it refuses to yield, it fights without compromise. Only, for me, it exacts a price. After long periods of high stress, my thyroid yields, it forgets how to work and I need medication to get it back under control. I know that repeated rounds of medication will eventually kill my thyroid, so I know I need to figure this out, but in reality I don't think I have. I want to teach P to be strong, but I don't think it's healthy to have this. I hope it's not inherited, but sadly I think it can be. I already see shades of it in P.
Yet, deep inside, there's a place that still trusts and still believes and still loves and is willing to be vulnerable. I know that is the person Mr. mouse fell in love with. But, I feel like that is a place with a strong door with a big lock and I'm not sure where I've put the key. I don't think I can find the key. I think I need to wait for the key to find me. Perhaps one day Mr. mouse will find that person again. I kind of hope he does because I kind of like her. I have faith that I will one day because when I see P I see her. P still trusts and believes and loves. She hasn't picked up the fears and darkness and anger that people my head.
I hope that her world can continue, at least a little longer, to be that happy place.
Cheers!
mouse
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