Dream Girl(?)

Sometimes on the harder days, on the days I feel my functionality slipping away, when it takes all I have to do the absolute minimum, I “like” to berate myself for all the ways that I am wrong. I seem to take strange comfort in the process of identifying all the ways in which I feel in that moment, that I am utterly failing. 

In a moment of personal clarity, I would like to breathe some life into the ideas surrounding my self perceived failure and see what I might learn. I wonder what the woman I think I should be, would be like. Perhaps there is some grain of truth to be had in examining directly the person I think I should be in those moments of deep sadness and disappointment. 

So I imagine this, my alter ego sitting beside me, smiling demurely no doubt. I know for certain she is a straight woman and gender conforming, she has long flowing thick hair that manages to look both effortless and beautiful at the same time. She easily fits in. She smiles often and never puts people off. She isn’t abrasive, to loud, or prone to lectures as communication. She has absolutely never accidentally practically shouted the word dildo in public or said “I don’t understand what you mean” in response to a totally normal social situation. 

She would also be healthy and strong. Though I suppose she never would have learned the lessons my illness and isolation have taught me so she would probably also be impatient, self involved, painfully unaware of her own privileges, the grim reality of the world around her, and all the ways she is complicit in those realities. I’m also certain that she never would have learned how to communicate in a healthy manner or how to have any confidence in herself.  

As I look at this, my shadow self, my alternate reality me, I realize that she is not an improvement. In fact she isn’t me at all, she is a Barbie doll fantasy built on a life time of internalized misogyny, ableism, transphobia, and homophobia. My fantasies have been lying to me my friends because this is not at all what I want. 

I want me. 

I love me. 

With all my dents and scratches

And every single eccentricity

I love me with all my twists and turns 

And spiritual complications
Oh what a lovely day

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