IMPERFECT SOLITUDE~Self-Portrait Challenge, October Week 1

October's Self-Portrait Challenge theme is: "Look beyond the surface of your life, dig into your imperfect self and reveal it to us. I want to see the down and dirty you, the messy, gross and ugly you, the side of yourself that you always try to hide, give us some insight into your dreadful secrets. This can be your physical self or your personal space or within your wider life. Be not afraid!"

Imperfection? I suppose I could come up with quite a list detailing the many ways in which I am imperfect; however, not each "flaw" is one I try or even wish to hide. And as with most things, imperfection is so very subjective.

This self-portrait depicts what I consider to be my most significant imperfection. It is ugly only in that it pushes people away from me at a time when their wishes are to comfort me. I will not allow them to do so. I grow distant. I want no words of sympathy or understanding spoken to me, nor do I want to be physically touched by them. Should they do either, I would dissolve into tears. Perhaps wracking sobs. I cannot let anyone see me like that. And THAT is what I hide from them.

Example. My father passed away while we were in the room with him. I knew it was coming. We all did. His legs had grown mottled that day. A sure indicator that death was at hand. I turned away from my mother and sisters so that I was facing the corner. My eyes had welled up, and I did not want them to see me in tears. After regaining my composure, I tried to be stoic. After Daddy took his final breath, I leaned down and pulled up his lifeless body so that I could give him a hug and just hold him for a bit longer. Then, I laid him back down and with trembling fingers, I gently slid closed his eyelids. I told my family I would go get the nurses. I did not sob. I did not cry. I gave hugs. I gave words of support. But I let no one hug me. I phoned my husband to let him know of Daddy's passing. No crying from me while I spoke. I came home a couple of hours later, and I would not allow my husband to hug or hold me. No one was to touch me. I wanted to be alone. They understood, because they know me all too well. And yet I saw a flicker of pain on their faces when I kept them at arm's length.

Yes, tears flow at unexpected times, and I sometimes get "caught" by family and friends. But, that is rare. I fight fiercely within myself to be the one who keeps up the spirits of others, and what good would I be to anyone if I was huddled in a corner while keening?

It is ugly and maybe even hurtful that I possess this trait. I shut out those who love me during my times of pain or stress. I will gladly help them through rocky times...even those very ones that also send me reeling, but I refuse their offers to reciprocate.

I need to work on freeing myself of feeling somehow inadequate if I show the darker, sadder side of my being.

(This pose is like the angel I use as my icon on this blog. I have always been strangely attracted to this almost hauntingly sad image. And I have given instructions to my family that she is to be carved on my headstone after I die.)