I find it easy to be selfish. Really easy. Laziness, disinterest and dislike all arise from this selfishness. Sometimes I don’t feel like doing small things, for myself or for others. Sometimes I feel as though I don’t care about others at all. Sometimes I treat others poorly because one part of me believes I don’t like them. That part is transactional. It wants to take what it can for itself. It wants to feed the layers of ego covering up my fear and insecurity. That part of me sees other people as objects that it can use to make the idea of “Josh Mason” cooler, or more interesting, or better. That part of Josh doesn’t feel cool, or interesting, or good enough. That part feels inadequate. Like nothing it could ever do would be enough. That part is a lie.
I find it easy to believe the lies I tell myself. Especially the ones I assume – the ones I don’t give any attention to. I think it’s time for me to see through those lies and start to give, instead of taking all the time. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to try and give as much as it feels right to, through the medium of this blog. I can’t be specific to your needs, but what I can do is try to be as real as possible. To try and cut through our layers of fear and actually help. Not for the satisfaction or self-gratification of having helped. Just because I think it’s the thing that I’m going to start to do. That’s the only way I know how to give at this stage. Honesty, truth, love – whatever you want to call it, I don’t want to bullshit anyone anymore. So I’m just going to write about my lessons and experiences, in the hope that it will open you to experiencing your own truths. I will fail – probably a lot. I’m going to try my best to learn from the mistakes I make. I intend to help.
Here you go…
I started Flourisch because I felt a powerful need to give – but for my own sake. I didn’t want to give out of love, I wanted to give out of selfishness. I wanted to take. That part is still here inside of me. I’m not magically cured or perfect because I realised that I’m afraid and can act like a dickhead. I’m just trying to be upfront.
So do I actually want to give now, or am I still taking? There’s a mix, but I don’t think it’s worth not giving what I can when I can just because I’m still afraid that I’m not good enough.
I intend to feel like I am good enough, and the only way to do that I know of is to get out of myself and be real and give. Parts of me don’t want to publish this. Facing my fears often causes a lot of anger to arise in me. Because I’m also afraid of showing myself to anyone. But here I go anyway.
So there’s some fear…
I’m afraid of myself. I’m afraid because of how severely I am able to psychologically torture myself when I act unconsciously. Seeing or thinking about the pain of others brings up a deep sadness inside of me that I’ve only recently discovered. I’m gentle, I love animals, and pain disturbs me a lot. Knowing that I have inflicted pain in the past, or that I’m capable of doing so in the future, has lead to months and years of self-torture, which only deepened the wounds. I have found it difficult in the past to play with dogs or children, due to the fear that I will injure them. I have found it just as difficult to become intimate with women I am attracted to for the same reason. What if I became like my Dad? What if I ended up hurting my wife and children as much as he hurt us? For years I believed the trauma in my past did not control me. It did. And I’m sure it still does. But I’m trying to see it for what it is and not hide anymore. So here you go. This is me trying to be real with you.
The most important thing I’ve learnt in opening myself to all these fears is this: it’s not worth lying to yourself. I came from a place where I believed I had no fear of rejection, that I was stable and happy and okay. I might have appeared so to most people, but it was a strong defence. Through paying attention to feelings in my body and beginning to identify less with my mind I have now begun to allow myself to experience the pain I have held on to for most of my life. Now, rather than needing to search for moments of happiness and contentment, they’ve started to find me. That’s the truth. And in my experience of life so far, truth is freedom.