“I can’t believe how powerful you are!” said the wizard’s new apprentice.
The wizard favored her with a smile. “Honey…. you have no idea how powerful I am. What you have seen so far is nothing. Superficial magic at best. Know that I hold the reins of powers beyond your wildest imaginings. “
“I….see. ” she said.
The wizard patted her on the shoulder. “But don’t be so frightened. Just remember that while I may be a very powerful person, I am also a very nice person. So you have nothing to fear from me whatsoever.”
She looked relieved.”I am glad to hear that, sir. ”
“Good!” said the wizard. “Now, back to the kitchen with you. “
He then, to her great relief, turned her back into a mouse, and she scurried away.
More trying to get a grip on how powerful I am relative to others. I wish I knew how to make my spirit grow until it was equal to the power it weilds.
Religion would probably help with that.
Perhaps my overdeveloped sense of responsibility is partly to blame. I have grown up (no really, I have) feeling like a giant amongst pygmies, and as such, I had to be very, very careful where I stepped or I would hurt people.
That’s mostly bullshit. I can see that now. Just another way my depression keeps me down. People are not nearly as fragile as I imagine them to be, and can handle a lot more than I give them credit for.
It’s just a thin patina of rational justification hiding utter cowardice.
The truth is that I am terrified of my own power.
My culture did not and could not ever have prepared me for weilding this kind of power. As far as I know, there is nobody else quite like me, both qualitatively and quantitatively, and so I have no pre-ordained structure I can fit it into.
It, like me, is just too damned big.
My sadly abused and neglected id wants me to abandon my concern for others entirely and just the best version of myself, no matter how that makes others feel.
If the real me scares people because I am towering over them on so many levels and they have never met anyone else like me, too freaking bad.
I am sick of being a giant in denial.
You know what I would love?
To buy Disney and force them to make X-rated cartoons.
But I would also love it if I finally got out there into the world to test myself against others and learned that I am not nearly as powerful as I thought I was.
That would be such a relief! I would finally be able to just relax and be a normal person instead of trying to find an outlet for all my gifts.
But I know that ain’t gonna happen. The evidence of my being exceptional is too strong. Normal people can’t do the things I can do. The things I have always taken for granted in my life because trying to appreciate them was too damned scary.
I don’t want to be a wizard.
But I am, and I have to learn to deal with it.
More after the break.
Back after a nap and a failed attempt to fap.
Today I had to go to the doctor to get a prescription for socks.
No really. Oh wait, that’s right, I already explained that here.
Basically, until I get me some special circulation-boosting socks, I won’t be able to escape this goddamned tension bandage that has kept me from being able to shower for what feels like forever but is probably more like three weeks.
The kicker is that I can’t get these socks without a prescription from my doctor.
So, grumble grumble, I had to go see my GP for a prescription for socks today.
It was pretty routine, other than the fact that I got there and back on my own, without even calling a cab, and I am proud of that.
I keep trying to convince myself that I am not nearly as incompetent as I think I am and that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself if I just give myself a chance.
But before that can happen, I have to somehow defeat the monster of my vast unmet need for nurturing, comfort, and protection.
All that childhood neglect is still inside me, waiting for that love and care and attention that I never got as a child. And getgting past this particular monster will require doing something extremely painful.
I will have to fully accept that it is never coming. That no matter how long or how hard I cry, nobody is going to pick me up and cuddle me and make it all better. That the love and affection in childhood ship sailed a long, long time again and is never coming back and the best that I can hope for is a loving, caring adult relationship where I can get and give all the loving care I want.
And a voice inside me says “But then they will have gotten away with it…. “.
I’m 46. They already got away with it. But part of accepting that the love is not coming is also accepting that there will be no justice for it either.
The family that treated me so poorly is never going to pay a price for it. Same with the teachers and the bullies. There is never going to be a time where I can throw it all back in their faces and make the world see all the damage they did me when I was just a little kid who didn’t know enough to object.
That doesn’t mean I deserved it and it doesn’t mean it was not a horrible crime when it happened. One I may never be able to forgive, much less forget.
It just means that I have to let go to move forward, and that’s all there is to it.
So begone, foul demon os the past. I release you. And now I watch as you evaporate and get blown away by the wind.
You will haunt me no more.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.