I have 3 reasons for making this thread:
1. I came across some journals that contain a great deal of internal reflection that I want to share from the point of view of purposefully having them thrashed and discussed and taken apart. I also feel like sharing them.
2. My mind is clouded with regards to my past and I want to discuss it openly here which may reveal some deeper insight.
3. This is my final "check" to confirm my tritype --- without any steretypes. I'm not really questioning my type - but if these journals shed any doubts, please feel free to share them with me.
These are my journals I wrote well before I was ever introduced to the world of MBTI and Enneagrams, therefore they are "pure" and uncontaminated - and therefore may even make people's job easier:
Journal #1 -- Written 2007 [Just before my marriage]
Yes, I’m living and have lived every man’s dream. If seen from the eyes of some one who has less.
I am not ungrateful to God for all that he has given me. He has truly given me a bit of everything there is in life. Talent, the gift of music, a healthy over achieving mind, a philosophical mind, a strong, mature family, 1 of every kind of relation that exists, a job with a strong career possibility. Most importantly, a fiancé whom I love more than life itself.
But, somewhere down the road, something went terribly wrong. Even though I have continued living, have managed to achieve success in life so far, I haven’t had the desire to live since I was 13. There have only been 6 short periods in my life when I was truly happy and I wanted to live, live, live. The first was my last year in Pakistan when I finally had friends. Then when I was madly in love with a girl, even though I knew she could never be mine. Then when I came back to Pakistan, and met a cousin whom I had never seen in my life, and we immediately hit it off. Then, my last year in Canada, and my first in Pakistan, and finally the first few months of my engagement.
But the feeling of wanting to end my agony exists. But what agony? I don’t have a right to be sad, but I am. Every other day, every other day, is the same. I don’t want to live like this. I cannot live like that. I want to end it at every other breath. I dream, and I want, and I can’t seem to get over it at all. I wish I could just end my life, right here, right now.
But then, I have to realize I have other people waiting for me. I cannot breathe sometimes. I suffocate. I cannot socialize. I choke. I sputter. I want to die. But I cannot because I have a life. I don’t know what I want. I’d much rather be dead, than living a life I cannot control. I’d much rather have been a man without feelings, without. I would’ve preferred a life where I had nothing as compared to the life where I have everything. Every time I want more, something goes wrong. All I ever wanted was a companion. And even my fiancé cannot give me that.
After engagement, the period of my life that was supposed to have been the greatest, happiest period has turned into the worst of my life. Every bit of my love that I had stored for my one true love has poured out of every inch of my heart, my mind, my sound and my body. Too much too soon? Or too little?
The life that I had promised myself has never really come into realization, and I don’t think it ever will. Not with the amount of interference I have faced already. Everyone has promised that life will change, that no one will interfere. But I don’t suppose that will happen. There is really no reason left for me to imagine a brighter future. There is really no reason left for me to dream of a better life.
Journal #2 - Written sometime in 2005 about my childhood [I was at my healthiest in 2005, and this is an extremely accurate view of myself].
My exams were immediately after my operation. I still wrote them. And I secured a top 5 rank in my class. My parents never really regarded me as being that smart. My elders were the geniuses of the family. I always said that I don’t care about academic accolades, but in actuality, I really wasn’t that smart. I didn’t try hard either, but I always wanted to be the one who got first prize. I also wanted to be regarded as another genius of the family. But I learned to live with not being one even though I may have been one. I was too scared to find out so I avoided it at all costs.
I was generally a carefree child even though academically, or even socially I was never that strong - or felt that I wasn't in comparison to my elder siblings. Perhaps I could’ve been, but I didn’t want to fail – therefore I decided to under-perform so that my parents wouldn’t levy unachievable expectations on me and so that I could really surprise people with my success, when I got it.
Others always regarded me as an off-shoot of my over brilliant mother, father and siblings. I always lived under their shadow. Always following, always looking up to them and being wowed by their success. I never came first in class, I didn’t read books, I didn’t go out and play with my friends – so naturally, I turned to music and really enjoyed creating it. The one thing that got me my mother’s admiration and even though I told everyone not to praise me, I secretly loved it.
Otherwise, I was a pretty boring child. Well, that’s what others believed about me anyways. In fact, that’s the impression I gave of myself to others. I never projected myself as brilliant. I guess, my greatest achievement of all was my ability to hide my true feelings, lock my emotions and keep my own brilliance hidden. I loved my pets. They made me feel connected to this world. But at that time, at that age, I was never really concerned about anything. I didn’t want toys, I didn’t know the latest toys. All I knew, was that I would go to school and then return home, meet the family, be with my parents and siblings. As a child of 6 or 7, I did not have any dreams. I never thought about what I would become when I grew up. I never had an answer to that question. And frankly speaking, my years in this world have taught me not to expect anything from anyone, including myself.
I regarded my life as a passing phase. Each new day brought with it the same old routine adventures. I grew older, just like the tree that increases in height every year, but attains not much else in stature. I did not have friends, and being a slave of conventions, I never broke apart from what I was told to do. Would I have broken away if I had had the chance? But really, at age 10, I had no worries, no interest in life. It was a carefree but mundane existence, in a world where every one else always seemed to have more friends than I did.
Any insight would be appreciated.