A Comment on Annoying Yourself

When I began this blog I said that it was about discovering those pieces of the kaleidoscope of my soul that sit next to each other. I said that each piece is so different, yet fits perfectly beside the next and that I wanted to explore them. Today I discovered this disgustingly dark brown, sludgey coloured piece of kaleidoscope sitting next to an unsuspecting and beautifully vibrant orange piece.

I am in a program at school that asks tough questions. It asks questions that make us think about what we believe, past a superficial understanding of ourselves. We touch on topics that force us to look at what we may have done to contribute to systemic racism, topics that ask us to dissect our view of the future generations and what they can achieve, topics that ask us to explore our values, ones we perhaps didn’t even know we had. And what does that mean for us as individuals? As the people who have the power to possibly shape future young minds? We touch on a lot of topics that have a variety of answers, none of which are wrong, but all of which have complex and potentially controversial responses.

These are wonderful topics. They are important topics to explore in terms of personal development and finding out who we really are and what we’re really all about. My brain hurts thinking about these questions, it makes me uncomfortable, it makes me grow. That is the illuminated orange – the way my soul thrives in its sea of discomfort, disruption, inquiry, and a certain uncertainty. But directly attached to that is where I found the muddy, swampy, slimy brown color.

Today I was sitting in class, silently thinking to myself and processing the conversation we were having. I have thoughts and opinions on the topic but I do not want to share them. I continue to sit there and think and – OH! I hear my own voice speaking the words I am thinking. How did that happen? When did that happen? And WHY do I sound so God-damn passionate about it? You see, I have these opinions. Maybe I shouldn’t even call them opinions. They are general wonderings, little opinion fetuses, not fully developed. But in speaking, these little fetuses turn into giant, adult sumo wrestlers, grappling with everything that opposes them. Am I really that opinionated? Do I even truly believe the words I am apparently speaking so passionately about? Why can’t I articulate my thoughts in a more politically-correct way? Do I sound like a complete asshole to anyone else? And if these words uncontrollably gushing out of my mouth are just wonderings, un-concrete ideas, why am I sharing them out loud?

What is worse, this happens frequently. And I find it annoying. This repulsing brown, this opinionated, passionate voice, is annoying to me. Not just annoying. It’s irritating. You know that feeling when you are just so tired of something, so frustrated with it, that your skin feels like it is buzzing? Your shoulders feel tense and there is nothing in the world that you want more than for it to go away, to stop? That is what this sharing of my fetus-opinions is to me. It is the nails on the chalkboard, the crunch of a carrot in complete silence. Irritating. And it feels somewhat uncontrollable. It is a part of the kaleidoscope that I’d like to switch out. But the colours of a kaleidoscope are stuck, trapped, within the constricting confines of the cylindrical container.

So here is my question: Can I ponder these topics and grow from them and not share my opinion with others? The answer is, of course, yes. Nobody has to speak out loud. But can I not share out loud? I legitimately try not to speak sometimes. I make a conscious effort to stay silent. And yet, I find myself hearing my own voice. How annoying. And if I find myself this annoying, what must others think when I open my mouth and speak? How mortifying!

But do I really care what they think? Is me opening my big mouth and sharing my unformed thoughts helping me in my own understanding of myself and therefore, I do not care what other people have to say about my thoughts? Perhaps that is why I find myself speaking when I don’t intend to. I just can’t be bothered to care about what it sounds like on the outside of my brain.

I think that it is okay to be stuck in this place of being completely annoyed with the sound of my own voice and completely unsure of what to do. If I were never uncomfortable with myself, how boring would that be?! I am unsure of how to grow from this place of annoyance, though. Do I change my behaviour to un-annoy myself? Or do I accept the mossy, goopy brown that sits beside such a soul-warming orange? My soul is a kaleidoscope, after all. The colors are beside each other whether I like it or not. It isn’t my place to change that; it is my place to be conscious of it and explore the contrast in all of it’s disgustingly wonderful discord.

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