Breaking the Mold

April 21st

There was a moment today at my therapy session, when for a minute or so I was just sitting in front of my therapist, speechless and on the verge of tears. My mouth and cheeks were trembling, and it felt like a hot wave ascending from the pit of my stomach to my throat. The silence was overwhelming, and I knew that was one of the moments in my therapy when shit is about to get real. Or in the other words — I was having a breakthrough.

The initial mold of my personality and of who I am as a person, man, human, brother, and son was created by my family in my childhood. And by extension of the previous generations, from each something was added — some of it good, but mostly bad, to my mold. Since then, that mold was improved, patched up, broken, and put back together many times. But the initial shape remained until today. Through the hard work in my therapy, I become aware of my shortcomings and things I need to work on. But I also realized that the heart of that mold is still sound and overall good.

The emotional outburst today in therapy had to do with the realization that in many ways I am a lot like my father was — and not only in the commonly shared addiction of alcoholism. I still care more about outward appearances (just to fake other people) than what is really the essence of me. I still face my fears and problems only when I have an exit strategy and an escape plan. Since my therapy, I don’t run away anymore, but that option needs to be there. I still think that any good word or gesture and gift I received has to be repaid tenfold, and it will keep me from speaking my mind.

In all that, there is one fundamental difference — my knowledge and understanding of the choice. The choice that I now have in all the decisions I made. I also understand that making a choice that will get me even an inch outside my mold can be painful. Painful for me and for those who made my mold as a reflection of theirs. After today, I know that I will be able to make it, even if it is going to hurt. Patching up the old mold is no longer enough. I can keep the essence and make a new one. This time — the way I want to.