who am i?

This is just a little something I wrote for my therapist. It's a little bit personal but not real personal so I thought I'd share it here...just to give you all and idea of who I am...and who I wanna be.

And yes...I am getting therapy. I'm a nutty old bird.

Who Am I?

It's such a crazy question. I mean...how could I ever possibly know? I mean...do I ever really see myself? All I can ever really see is a reflection of myself in a mirror. And mirrors, as we all know, are full of illusions. So much sleight of hand can take place in the depth of a reflection.
I can tell you what I do know from what I see around me and from what so many people have told me and continue to tell me about myself. My name is Mark and apparently, I'm 47 years old...going on 48 very soon. I'm tall...people seem to comment on that a lot (and, no, I don't play basketball). I wear glasses because apparently life is little more than a blur without them. I guess they're supposed to clear things up for me...make things make more sense by bringing them more into focus...yeah...sometimes that kinda sorta works. And that's pretty much it...or at least from what people can deduce about me by just looking at me. I'm some tall white dude with four eyes...thrilling! It doesn't sound like the kind of guy who gets laid very often, does it?
And it doesn't really answer that question of who am I...which brings me to the first point that I'd like to ponder. Maybe who I am actually has nothing to do with what other people see...maybe who I am who I see.
So who do I see...whenever I close my eyes and try to visualize myself (which I gotta tell you, can give you SUCH a headache)...who's in there that makes up this person.
What do I see?
I see a man who is scared...scared of way too much...I'm afraid of my financial situation. I barely squeak by on what I make on a job that many would say was way beneath me considering my educational background and alleged intellect. So why do I do it? Why do I not pursue an actual career in an actual field that I can believe in. Again...fear rears its ugly head...fear of rejection...fear of exposing myself...wearing my heart on my sleeve...putting my whole soul out there on the line to bleed across the universe...only to be mocked and told that I am wasting my time and that I am just not good enough...just not good enough...but who, really decides if I'm good enough...them or me? The answer is probably me. So why don't I think I'm good enough?
Such a can of worms this question opens...the only playbook I have for my future is my past...and let's face it...I pretty much botched that up. I've alienated myself from my family, friends (what friends I had), my place of birth...everything pretty much.
There's so many things that I've run away from in my life because of fear...so many jobs...relationships...chances at happiness...running was always the answer. Running is less painful than standing up and fighting for what it is that I really want. Or is it? Running makes one tired...and anxious and very very sore...especially when you've run as long and as far as I have...
After running for so long, though...your feet tend to grow numb...you can feel the throbbing through your shoes even though the sting, after a certain amount of time and diversion, is a lot less potent. And so you develop a certain comfort with the race...even though you know somewhere deep inside where you never really want to look for fear of fear, that it's killing you.
And I don't really wanna die. I don't. I want to beat all these feelings that keep from pursuing the many things I need to pursue for an actual attempt as happiness in life. I just don't know how...or if I have the strength anymore. I'm not a young thing. The idealism and the optimism don't flow as easily as they once did.
But they need to...
Why? Because that's who I am at my very core...the eternal optimist and idealist...a person who wants to walk in broad daylight and take in all the sights and sounds around me and feel refreshed by them...rejuvenated...inspired. I want to paint my world over with a magic brush and make it all such a happy place full of love and understanding and acceptance...and music. If I had my way, my whole life would be a big splashy Broadway musical with folks singing and dancing everywhere...living a life so free from such chains as war, illness, famine, poverty, disability...fear of death.
And I wish I could fly through this big and beautiful world and soar up through the sun and back again bouncing off rainbow and splashing into bubbling and cool blue water.
That's the place where I want to be...a place where everyone can be exactly who they need to be...free from sadness, frustration...and fear...
But people don't exactly make this world possible, do they...everyone seems to love their little miseries. I don't understand this. I've never understood this...and I've never tolerated it very well. In fact, it has upset me so much at times that I've made attempts to leave this world just to get away from all this despair. I'm over that now. I don't want to harm myself looking for a quick exit but, I must say...some days...although I would never harm or kill myself, I do wish I could just dissolve or something, pianlessly from this plane...without any remnants left of me...for anyone else to deal with just dissapear. Yes...that Mark...he was a nice guy when he was here...and now he's gone...but that's okay...because he felt no pain.
But I don't feel like that all the time. Most of the time there is some hope...some feeling that I'm here for a very good reason and I need to see that through...find out what that reason is...make it happen...find out who I actually am.
For right now, who I am is a work in progress. And I do need a lot of work. But hey...I gotta be that eternal optimist that I know I am and sort away through all the muck to find my own little musical...my own happy little life. I will be happy...I do know that...and I will find my peace.
So then...who are you?