@Trillian Well, sort of. Still, I think it is useful to pay attention to other people’s perceptions of you. People tell me I can be intimidating. I have facial expressions that can put the fear of God into some people (with respect to tasting food). Ok. I didn’t know that. So I believe I have to think about what they see in me, and why I am giving off that energy.
You can say, @Trillian “Oh, that’s not how I am. I am completely different.” I think it would be useful to pay attention to what people say. They don’t define you, but they do mirror you. It could be important to reflect on why people find you scary. Why do people perceive you not as you perceive yourself?
Are you absolutely the final word in who you are? Do you really know yourself better than anyone else? Is it possible you could be hiding something from yourself? Is it possible that you are giving off a scary energy without even being aware of it? If that is the case, then are you scary or are you not?
My belief is that I do not know myself completely. In fact, I think there may be many things well hidden that are part of me, and inform my identity, but I have no awareness of. Other people serve as a mirror reflecting me back to myself. They do not tell me who I am, but they do tell me how I come across, and in that, they help me find out things about myself that I might not ever find out on my own.
I pay a lot of attention to human mirrors (not so much for physical mirrors). I have things I want to say, but I can’t say them if people can’t understand me. I have things I want to do, but I can’t do them if people think I’m doing something else entirely. I need their cooperation and I need their feedback.
We talk a lot about communication here. Relationships depend on lots of quality communication. But so many times, the communication is very flawed. That’s why tons of people ask the same questions here: what does this mean? What does that mean? They need a mirror. Or many mirrors since all the mirrors reflect from a slightly different point of view.
Our “mates” help us understand who we are because they provide the most detailed mirror. Except, if we can’t understand the reflection; if it makes no sense to us, then it has no useful content. They do not tell us who we are, but they do tell us how we appear, and I think we have to pay attention to that, because we may be something we did not want to be. We may not know ourselves. And that is a very tricky thing.
I doubt if there have been many people as introspective as I am. Maybe half a percent of the population thinks that much about who they are. Maybe less. Maybe one in a thousand or even one in a million. I hear that reflected back to me all the time. I think too much. I am too attached to outcomes. I depend on other people too much for my happiness.
I hear that, but it doesn’t really make sense to me, because I love to think. I love to observe and analyze. I have some very specific things I would like to do for the world. And one of those things is a specific kind of relationship that I hope to experience.
I will use words like “incomplete” or a “hole inside me” or “something missing.” People seize on these locutions and tell me that this is an unhealthy way of thinking. I should figure out how to complete myself.
It’s hard to know if I am communicating clearly, or not. I know the feeling I feel. I know what I imagine may help (although there is mounting evidence that it won’t help). One could call it all a delusion, but I don’t see what that adds to the conversation. One could say, as @Coloma just said, that we get to choose. We put out into the world what we get back. Or we get back what we put out. I am quite sympathetic to this point of view.
I look at myself from a naive point of view. I don’t know what I know, so I have to watch myself in order to find out what I know and who I am. I don’t trust my own thoughts. For one thing, I know my linguistic thoughts are just part of the story. There is a whole other part of me that is thinking up a storm, but I don’t have very direct access to those thoughts. I have to meditate or make music or run or do yoga or something in order to quiet my linguistic mind enough to begin to catch the drift of my non-linguistic mind. Even then, since the thoughts occur in a way that I don’t understand, I can’t derive a lot from them. I mostly get feelings.
I feel like something is missing. I could try to dominate that feeling with mental techniques. Or I could try to trick it with Buddhist kinds of ideas. I could try to reduce my attachment to these feelings. Then, perhaps I would be happy.
But I don’t do these things. I appear to be clinging, to some degree, to my unhappiness. I hold my despair and my depression close. I see this, and I wonder why. Why would I hold onto these horrible things? I don’t really know. All I can surmise is that there is a part of me that thinks these things are valuable. They have something important to teach me. That being happy or complete or whatever it is I think I’m looking for is not really necessary. There are more important things than getting rid of the pain. Or maybe that I can stand more pain than I think I can.
It may surprise people to know that I have no clue. All I can do is watch and see what happens. Sometimes, I have to take action, and when I don’t understand the significance or consequences of the actions, it’s hard to choose. The obvious outcomes are clear. But underneath them are other options and other outcomes that may put me in a very different place. Perhaps a place that feels much more comfortable and stable to me.
But to make such choices I have to go against my linguistic brain and the advice of everyone else. And I do that. Amazingly, I do that! And I don’t know why. All I can think is that there is a part of me that thinks it knows better what to do. So I follow this gut feeling. I wonder why I don’t stop myself. I think that perhaps I can’t stop myself. But maybe I don’t want to. Or maybe I am being guided by another part of myself that has a different idea of how to do things.