If you haven't read Part I, this post will make a lot more sense if you do so now!
I know a whole lot of people who have never met a mirror they didn't like. They spend hours in front of them primping and fussing over their appearance. About one-half of them are in love with the visage that looks back. "Oh you are one handsome or beautiful devil!" The other half never likes what they see. They stand in front of mirrors castigating themselves for every perceived imperfection. "Who could love a face like this?"
But for all the time many of my fellow humans spend in front of mirrors, most of them only look at the surface. They sure as hell don't wish to look any deeper because they fear or dread what they may find.
Of course, I'm utilizing a physical mirror as a mere metaphor. An object made of glass cannot show us aspects of ourselves beyond the surface. In order to look that deeply, it takes an unvarnished kind of inner reflection. I've spent a great deal of the past decade in front of THAT kind of mirror.
This discussion relates directly to the aspect of my personality outlined in Part I. I discovered that the reason I could so easily fool people into believing unbelievable things is that I had been running away from myself. There were aspects of my personality that I didn't want to face head-on and so I had built a facade around the shell of this being I call Trey.
In essence, I was an actor and the role I was playing was me. Since my authentic self -- my true inner nature -- was cloistered away from prying eyes (including my own!), it was mere child's play to don yet another mask.
It was around ten years ago when I decided that I needed to scrape away all the hubris I had layered upon myself and face up to those weird aspects that, only in the past two years, I've come to know as autism.
It certainly didn't happen overnight! I made slow progress, but it came in fits and starts. I had to come to grips with my quirky nature. I had to accept my need for structure and patterned routines. I had to allow myself to admit I suffer severely from social anxiety and that, try as I might, I take things far too literally and rarely pick up on the nuances of situations. Finally, I had to admit to myself that I identify with objects far more than people. (In dreams, I can clearly see objects from decades ago, but I have trouble envisioning the faces of people I saw yesterday.)
As a result of this inner work, I now live a life in which I wear my heart on my sleeve. If I'm feeling joyous or heartbroken, you know it the instance I enter the room. Now that I've shed most of my masks -- I'm convinced we never shed all of them -- the ingredient I utilized to fool people (the deadpan) is completely ineffective.
My wife tells me that she can spot instantaneously when I'm about to launch into one of my "gotcha" jokes. Of course, this totally messes up the power of the punchline! She usually still laughs, but it's more the laugh of a woman who has loved me for 26+ years. (And that's not a bad thing at all.)
To provide an example of the kind of joke I'm referring to, here's one ripped from my life just the other day. Upon arriving home from the grocery store, here's how a brief exchange went.
In the old days -- back when life was a 10-part play -- I would have had her convinced that the $5 chicken special was no more. I would have gone on and on about my fictitious conversation with Danny and probably would have cited financial data to back up my claim. About the time that Della sighed at the thought of no chicken for dinner, I would have presented the chicken to her and said, "Gotcha!"
Now, however, before I even opened my mouth, she KNEW I had the chicken. Nothing I could say would convince her otherwise and she was, of course, correct.
These days I'm still really good at making other people laugh. I simply have to employ different methodologies. In the end, who cares which strategy does the trick? As long as I can get people (including myself) to put their troubles on hold for a brief moment, it's all good.
I know a whole lot of people who have never met a mirror they didn't like. They spend hours in front of them primping and fussing over their appearance. About one-half of them are in love with the visage that looks back. "Oh you are one handsome or beautiful devil!" The other half never likes what they see. They stand in front of mirrors castigating themselves for every perceived imperfection. "Who could love a face like this?"
But for all the time many of my fellow humans spend in front of mirrors, most of them only look at the surface. They sure as hell don't wish to look any deeper because they fear or dread what they may find.
Of course, I'm utilizing a physical mirror as a mere metaphor. An object made of glass cannot show us aspects of ourselves beyond the surface. In order to look that deeply, it takes an unvarnished kind of inner reflection. I've spent a great deal of the past decade in front of THAT kind of mirror.
This discussion relates directly to the aspect of my personality outlined in Part I. I discovered that the reason I could so easily fool people into believing unbelievable things is that I had been running away from myself. There were aspects of my personality that I didn't want to face head-on and so I had built a facade around the shell of this being I call Trey.
In essence, I was an actor and the role I was playing was me. Since my authentic self -- my true inner nature -- was cloistered away from prying eyes (including my own!), it was mere child's play to don yet another mask.
It was around ten years ago when I decided that I needed to scrape away all the hubris I had layered upon myself and face up to those weird aspects that, only in the past two years, I've come to know as autism.
It certainly didn't happen overnight! I made slow progress, but it came in fits and starts. I had to come to grips with my quirky nature. I had to accept my need for structure and patterned routines. I had to allow myself to admit I suffer severely from social anxiety and that, try as I might, I take things far too literally and rarely pick up on the nuances of situations. Finally, I had to admit to myself that I identify with objects far more than people. (In dreams, I can clearly see objects from decades ago, but I have trouble envisioning the faces of people I saw yesterday.)
As a result of this inner work, I now live a life in which I wear my heart on my sleeve. If I'm feeling joyous or heartbroken, you know it the instance I enter the room. Now that I've shed most of my masks -- I'm convinced we never shed all of them -- the ingredient I utilized to fool people (the deadpan) is completely ineffective.
My wife tells me that she can spot instantaneously when I'm about to launch into one of my "gotcha" jokes. Of course, this totally messes up the power of the punchline! She usually still laughs, but it's more the laugh of a woman who has loved me for 26+ years. (And that's not a bad thing at all.)
To provide an example of the kind of joke I'm referring to, here's one ripped from my life just the other day. Upon arriving home from the grocery store, here's how a brief exchange went.
Della: So, did you remember to pick-up the 8 piece chicken special?
Me: I got some bad news, honey. When I got to the deli, Danny told me they had to discontinue it. They were losing too much money.
Della: You are sooo full of it! Hand over my chicken, buster!
Now, however, before I even opened my mouth, she KNEW I had the chicken. Nothing I could say would convince her otherwise and she was, of course, correct.
These days I'm still really good at making other people laugh. I simply have to employ different methodologies. In the end, who cares which strategy does the trick? As long as I can get people (including myself) to put their troubles on hold for a brief moment, it's all good.
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