“Runnin down a dream, that never would come to me….”
The film Interiors by Woody Allen is Allen’s homage to Igmar Bergman. The film takes place on Long Island and is a dreamy, dreary melodrama. When I saw it I was working in a crappy job, feeling crappy all around in New Mexico. I saw the movie and decided to leave as soon as I could. I envisaged my destinyback in New York, just as I had once envisaged my destiny in the west.
I had a case of wanting to be more.
And when I was given opportunities in my old world – on a silver platter – I would hold my nose and think, “I can do better.”
I wanted more.
I tried to figure out an easy way to get more.
I tried to present myself as someone worthy of more.
“Wanting more’ was in control of my life and everything – especially my occupation – had to reflect my Elevated Idea of Self. This idea changed throughout my life: from wanting to be cool, hip, artistic, self-sufficient, to spiritual, detached, humble, wise, to competent, efficient, etc etc. all versions of myself that I adapted according to the era, the zeitgeist, which way the wind of my ideal was blowing….
I forgive myself for accepting and allowing
myself to exist in an definition of myself in self-pity that emerged from an energetic
state of depression
and a conviction that I had needed to more than what I was here
in each breath
I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to sabotage myself within identifying myself as depressed; that depression was who I was because of mistakes I had believed I made ; causing me to be passive and withdrawn; allowing depression to become the overwhelming definition I gave to myself and then setting out to find ways to feel more of myself; to compensate and appear to be greater.
I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to believe that various jobs available to me when I was younger would not fulfill me or be good enough for me and I see my delusion in my requirement that a job needs to reflect and define me – and create a persona; rather than seeing a job as a practical necessity that would allow me mobility and a good income.
I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to project and exist in my mind; playing out scenarios of what my life would be like if I took a job: that it would be a dead end, or that I would become like my parents and their friends: only thinking about money and status; while in truth, I was only thinking about status: my status as someone special.
I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to have a belief based in self-righteousness that I could make money money in business but that within a sense of superiority; a fictional version of myself, I had ‘better’ things to do.
I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to have projected that I could make money in a job if I wanted to using this fiction as a point of superiority.
I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to fear doing a job that would challenge my idea of myself as a person of ‘depth’; as someone who required a ‘meaningful’ career and how I feared not being respected as a person of depth and I feared being seen as ‘materialistic’ because then I wouldn’t be taken seriously as an artist; whatever that really meant.
I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to sabotage myself within preoccupying myself by judging, holding strong opinions, having fear about how I would look within what I do that I had little time and energy to allow myself to just try different jobs and experiences – how I preoccupied myself and nullified my ability to take advantage of opportunities placed in front of me.
I commit to bursting my ideas of creating a self; any self, especially one who seeks to be more than what is here in this world, this reality and to investigate and see what it is no more have an identity, a goal for self; a desire to be more than what I am.
I commit to giving to myself that opportunity to no more define myself with a need to be more, to appear to be more, or to convince myself or anyone else that I am more than who and what I am.
I commit myself to continue to burst my identity bubbles so that when I die I do not have to then realize that who I am in my mind no longer exists.