It"s Not Me - I"m My Brother

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Before I became disabled it was easy for me to describe myself.
I was what I did.
Phylosophical problems, pschological problems aside, I was a Wall Street executive, husband, father, son, sibling etc.
Who I was depended on what I did, so I could always say of myself in answer to the question, "Who are you?" I am what I do.
The problem is that there was never an essential Me, who I recognized.
Thus answering the question who I was, was simple, partially truthful, and wholy inadequeate.
It's as if I missed the point.
I think a lot of people miss this point and answer that nitsy question the same way I did.
I believe now that there is an essential Me that includes, only incidentally, what I do.
The same is true of you and every other person on this planet dead alive and yet to be born.
Just for giggles, how about this answer in the new way I've come to understand who I am:"I don't do, Maestro.
I am.
"Satisfying in an arrogant way, but certainly not accretive to an answer.
This question started coming up with great and greater frequency when the doc's chainsawed my spine and I'dbe asked the "who are you" question (although in many different iterations) by doctors who were trying to help me, particularly those who are helping me cope with a life of pain.
In this arena, I was a true primitive and you know what they say about primitives.
No?Primatives dress in feathers and masks to scare away their enemies.
The essential Me cannot admit weakness so in response to the question, "How are you feeling today?", I'd reply, "Fine.
"The real Colin cannot admit to feeling pain, except of the most extreme.
""Tell me what this feels like.
"I'd cry as I replied, "Stings.
", or "Burns" or "poking" instead of , "Like I'm walking barefoot on red hot granite chips, and the only way I'll feel better is by pulling each ouf you teeth out...
through you're nostril" This primitive learns the hard way.
Once I got beyond the impulse, "I'll show you by hurting me.
"I began to find that steps to truth along a path of honesty, began to help me feel better more quickly.
I had to unlearn "suffer in silence" and learn to tell the truth about me.
I had to learn that I can't beat this.
I had to learn that my condition, today, may be the answer to my prayers.
i learned I have nothing to prove.
Hard lessons for me, particularly the one where I look into a mirror and accept that the image is me.
"Me" is not the useful fiction that it used to be.
While I am unique, I am only the strength He gave me; the mind He gave me; the life he gave me.
This journey of self-discovery carried a reward along with the lesson I've described.
I like "Me", soon I may love "Me".
He does
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