I long for people with honest stories

In the last few months of 2020, I feel a huge relief. It was as if a ton of a burden that I had been carrying for the last 6 years was lifted from me. And that burden mainly consisted of a set of all those “musts”, “recommendations”, “advice”, ideal versions, pictures of life, 10 habits for a happy life, 5 steps to awareness, 10 steps to optimism and everything else that we should be , do, do, become…

That one vortex of impossible expectations that I set before myself and that made my life a dungeon and a race without an end or a beginning towards some enlightened version of me from which I was getting further and further away from year by year.

I don’t know what broke in me to get rid of that burden, maybe a huge oversaturation and such a clear realization that this person does not exist and that the life I aspire to does not exist nor will it ever exist.

There is only what is here and now. As it is. Sometimes good. Sometimes bad, Sometimes without a point, sense or goal. Sometimes there are days when I am in a good mood, satisfied and motivated, and sometimes there are days when life, people and everything I do do not make sense to me. There are mornings when I wake up full of motivation and desire to create, read, work, and there are days when I don’t feel like getting out of bed. I don’t use those days when I’m in a bad mood as an excuse and reason for self-pity and drowning in endless sadness, but I accept those days as part of life as part of some experience of me as a human being who has his ups and downs. He no longer expects the impossible from himself, nor from others. I aspire every day to be a better person, but sometimes that aspiration is reflected in the fact that I will withdraw and be alone, because it’s not my day, because I’m not in the mood and because I don’t have patience and understanding for others.

It seems to me that social networks and all those self-help books and all those people whom we admire as something have created in many of us a sense of guilt, a sense that it is never good enough, that it can always be better, that we constantly need to improve something , we do, be, become…Honestly, I’m sick of it. It’s not that I’m sick, it’s actually tiring me on so many levels. It makes me tired because I’m not sure I believe any of it anymore. And I’m tired of reading, hearing and watching anything about it. I long for people of guilt and flesh, people of honest stories, intentions and pain. To the people who suffer, who fight, who stand up, who share their pain, shame and embarrassment with us. Fearless, brave and compassionate because they trust us to support them, because they trust us to find ourselves in their stories.

They trust us that we will also know what pain is, what shame, sadness, embarrassment is… they trust us that we will support them, that we will understand them and that we will learn something from their stories, hardships and troubles, see the other side medals and feel what it is to be a man – a man who suffers, falls, but gets up and bravely continues his fight.
I miss realistic, cruel, true, human stories… I miss all those who have the guts, the balls, the courage to tell us that everything has gone to hell, everything has gone to ruin, but here I am still here, living, working, continuing further…

Or is this my story, are there others who share my story? Let’s talk, cry, share our troubles, because it hurts to go through all this alone. I am in a lot of pain and I need humanity, I need empathy and I need understanding.

I don’t need 5 tips for a happy life and 5 techniques to be a better person… I need someone to see me, someone to hear me and someone not to judge me, when I’m going through the dark night of my own soul… and we all are sometime have been there, or we are about to be, or we are alone right now in our darkness…And we don’t have to be alone, we can be with each other, we can listen, believe and hear what we all feel, but we don’t talk about it .

I want us to talk about what we are ashamed of, what hurts us, and what will show others that we have not enslaved the wisdom of the cosmos, that we do not live ideal lives, that we are not always happy and fulfilled, but perhaps quite the opposite. I long for us to return to our own humanity, I long for the time of idols, false images and perfection to pass… I am patiently waiting for the day when it will be normal to be fucked up, to be sad, lonely and lost and to be free to say it out loud and find it in others encouragement, hope, a hand of support and a look of understanding.

I am waiting for that day and I will never give up on it.

Photo by Bacila Vlad on Unsplash

Procitajte i tekst: Kako imas hrabrosti tako i zivis

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