"About a Boy" is one of my favorite movies of all time. I was listening to it as I cleaned the kitchen and mopped the floor this morning. As I was working my thoughts were taken back to years ago when the movie first came out. I had a friend that would tell me that I was the crying, suicidal, hippie character. I would tell her that I was the pretty, artistic, 'with it,' character. I was in denial then of who I really was. I didn't recognize then, that I might have a problem; I just took the pills and kept my mouth shut. Now, I don't take the pills and am trying to work through my hippie, crying life.
Denial is a powerful thing. Denial has allowed me to avoid some pain, to avoid some heartache. Denial has allowed me to put blame elsewhere and not embrace the roll I have in my own life. How silly does that sound? I always knew I was different and blamed my circumstance or my socio-economic class for my issues. It is so much easier to be in denial, to place blame, than it is to take responsibility for myself. Looking back on my life I wonder when this started, when this denial became my coping mechanism. I think of myself as someone who deals head-on, but I am s-l-o-w-l-y learning that just because I am confrontational does not mean I have a healthy sense of myself.