Castle

I’ve been thinking a lot lately, after the “honeymoon“ phase of moving to a new place, and after everything is back to normal or mundane. While I was doing cardio at the gym, the televisions in front of me were playing EuroCup football games a lot. Watching them, I got jealous of these football players. I love how they run through the court, to chase, and to shoot for the goal. That’s what a man is supposed to look like. It reminds me of my high school years. All the “big boys“, or “jocks“, were playing football. They chase, sweat, and live fearlessly. At that time I didn’t think too much of it, but now I wish I could live like them, even if I don’t have a doctor’s degree, or come to the states. Also, now thinking about myself at that time, I felt I was a coward. I was worried about everything.

What made me like that? I tried to blame mom, for forcing me to learn piano, and to stay at home and practice it while other kids were playing outside. I also tried to blame her for imposing her own idea on me, just because she wanted to brag to others that her son can play the piano, like a gentleman. I tried to blame my father for not taking me to practice football, even if he claimed to be a huge fan. That part of me, where I didn’t learn any sport skills from a father figure, is still haunting me.

But is it all their fault? As I was washing dishes last night, I thought, even if they didn’t make those mistakes, I could still be like this. Even if they sent me to a soccer practice, or a gymnasium course, I might chick out too. Remember that one time when I was just started learning iceskating in a park? I fell down and started crying and swore I’ll never do it again. Remember when I actually went to a swim class, but didn’t dare to dive in until the coach kicked me into the water? So in the end, it was me who was like a coward resorted to “safer“ options. I built a perfect sand castle around myself, by isolating from others. Then when the reality knocks the sand castle down, and for the first time I started to see what’s outside, I blamed others for making me build this castle and trap myself in.

I think high school might be the earliest time when the castle broke down a little bit, and it’s mostly from the PE class. If it’s where the light of the reality creeps in, then what I did was simply to squeeze myself into a corner without lights, because it’s too bright and I felt I’ll be hurt. The more cracks there are, the further I avoided them and resort to the shade. Now the castle is almost gone, and all I did was to blame others, as if the reason why I am who I am today is everyone else’s fault, not mine.

I guess that’s where the problem it. I can’t accept this version of myself, but the past can’t be changed either. But it’s me, after all. My body, my brain, my emotion, my desire. I tried to change, physically and mentally, to be a better person. I earned my highest degree, and I started training for bodybuilding. I should be better than the past, right?

Wrong.

After these years, eventually, I didn’t change at all. I was still that coward. The only difference is, I was a coward of reality, and now I was a coward of myself. I’m afraid of accepting myself. I’m nowhere near the person I wanted to be, so I hate myself, I hate the mistakes my parents did, I hate that I can’t find a partner, I hate that I don’t have a good body, I hate that I don’t have a good skillset for bodybuilding, and I hate almost every detail of myself, from hair, to eyebrows, to mouth, to cheeks, to belly, to legs, to feet. I don’t want to admit the mistakes I made.

The only way out is to accept me as who I am, and accept everything about me, every detail. It’s easy to say “I am who I am“, but it’s never easy to accept it because when you accept yourself, you wouldn’t need to say that loud. It’s ok if it takes long time, but try to accept myself, own myself, own my past and my present. It’s liberating, I believe.