Photo by Mathias P.R. Reding on Unsplash

(On Life with OE, Struggle, TPD and Discovering Self)

Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully, from the depths of his heart, “I never dreamed of such happiness as this, while I was an ugly duckling.”

(The Ugly Duckling)

I’ve been discovering recently how little those close to me truly know me. Even though they lived with me. Raised me. This perplexes me at times – why don’t they get me? Then I remember I’ve spent a lot of time hiding.

See, I have a secret life. My “Authentic Self”. The loud, rich, intense, and often troubled version of me which lives inside my head. My complex, hurricane-like mess of multiple emotions and thoughts all roaring at the same time. She rages inside me, while the outside presents a different self to the world.

I struggle. I’m often a hot mess. But I work on myself a lot these days. Daily. Hard. Which sucks because most people think I’ve just sailed through life. Still, even if I did tell the people I love everything – about me, and how I feel – I’d never be able to convey the full weight of it.

So, for the most part, my Authentic Self has been completely alone.

It started when I was a small child. I walked early. Read early. Followed rules well and behaved. Excelled at school. I was defined by ‘achievements’. ‘Clever’, they called me. ‘Bright’. ‘Such a good girl’.

No one knew anything about overexcitabilities, or worried about what might be going on inside me. What they should have been saying was words like ‘intense’, ‘complex’, and ‘unwieldy’. But how could they have known when I kept my hurricane hidden? Behaved like I was told? Kept my thoughts and feelings to myself, because “children should be seen and not heard”?

How could they know I continually, and fully, felt everything? How could they understand the confusing nuances and contradictions life threw in my little face? The things they assumed went over my small head? The complex thoughts and inner struggles I had since kindergarten? The things I remembered in vivid detail? That I knew I was not like the other kids?

Bright kids were meant to know more, weren’t they? Be more ‘mature’? My parents divorced. We were poor. But good kids don’t complain, cry, or have tantrums. Accept it and behave. Hide the other stuff. Squash it. Just let them see the good bits. Hide your hurricane. One day it will just go away…

My Authentic Self followed me through my teens. Always hidden, always there. Excelling on the outside, and struggling on the inside. When I did something wrong, lashed out, or got in trouble, I hid it. When I did well at school, tried to minimise that too, because… bullies…. When I felt turmoil, I hid it. I tried so hard to just fit in. But teenagers are full of hormones. Awkward. This is normal, right? Just hide until you grow out of it…

Authentic Self just wouldn’t go away. Now, I was a young adult. This was getting problematic. Dark. Dangerous.

Why can’t I cope like other people? Why aren’t I like them? Why is the world still so loud? Why can’t I deal with my relationship problems? Maybe he’s right, and I am crazy? No wonder he’s so angry. I’m a hurricane. Whatever it takes, do not come out of hiding. Control that hurricane by any means necessary.

My Authentic Self remained. Despite the substances I threw at her. Despite the agony. Despite the suffocating squashing she was undergoing. Life was at its darkest and scariest point for me, and the hurricane was savage…

Ironically, she got me out of there. Helped me escape the scrambled mess that was my life. Helped me keep a job. Helped me bounce back. Sure, the shift hit hard, but I recovered hard too. Fought. Thought quick. Created. Took opportunities, my sails fuelled by hurricane winds. But despite the fact she saved me, I ignored her. I was enjoying life for a change. Why think about the hurricane?

I settled down. Moved on. Forgot about the past. My Authentic Self was still hidden, but now it was because life was good, and she embarrassed me. Made me have outbursts. Thought so very differently to everyone around me. Tried to dredge up the past. Wanted to rebel against my neat, cookie cutter, middle aged life. A hinderance.

She persisted in making herself known. Creating hurricanes. Why? I felt like I was back to square one. A child again. Doing well on the outside, not doing well on the inside. What was going on?

Then… one day… I wrote… Nothing serious. Fan fic. Bad fan fic. Just for stress relief. Something to do.

But while writing creatively, I unwittingly let my Authentic Self speak. I gave her a voice. Form. Let her see the light of day. And she used it…

She had not forgotten what we’d been through, and all the times I’d squashed and hidden her. She had not forgotten anything. She was angry. Hurt. Had so many unhealed wounds, it was frightening. All of it came forth. Spewed onto the pages. A dark night of the soul. A catharsis beyond anything I had ever experienced. A purge of epic proportions.

Everything shifted. How I felt about life, the world, and importantly, myself all changed. How I felt about her changed.

What in the hell had just happened?…

I turned to Google for answers. Through sheer dumb luck, I found Dabrowski’s Theory of Positive Disintegration. I found overexcitabilities.

And I cried.

Here, at last, was the key to who I was, and what had been happening to me – not just during the writing process, but through my entire life.

Just as the Ugly Duckling looked at his reflection and realised he was a swan, I was looking at a computer screen, and clearly seeing my Authentic Self for the first time. Reflected in Dabrowski’s theories. Seeing that there were other people living life in the same loud, complex, intense manner I was, and there was no need to hide.

While my Authentic Self still gives me hurricane-brain occasionally, she no longer stays hidden all the time. More of her comes out in front of other people.

When we’re by ourselves, I embrace her. I tell her she is OK. I tell her she is loved (something which is new for both of us, and still a little awkward). Mostly, I assure her I will never be ashamed of her, or squash her, ever again.

But there is one thing I will never have to remind her of. Something my Authentic Self understands completely these days…

WE ARE NOT ALONE…

You might have someone in your life with a hidden OE self. With a hurricane brain. But would you know it? Would THEY know what they truly are? Or are they struggling in hiding?

There’s only one way to find out. Share the knowledge…