Splinters

Some of us have the most outrageous defense mechanisms, and some the most classic. What we all have in common is that we all have deflector shields. Some are blanket shields like in star trek, where you just raise shields and no one can get past them, other than every single person known to the universe who can do simple frequency harmonics (which is exactly why star trek blows imho) and some are more directed, such as those in star wars, which simply absorb energy until depleted. The best part about star wars shields is that they are able to be angled towards incoming attacks.

Who wants a shield on their hind parts when the attack is coming from the front? Wasted energy I tells ya. What value are those forward facing shields when you are being pursued by a plethora of tie fighters on your tail? Simply foolish.

My defenses have been well documented, I am the little wooden boy. I own that, and I make it my own, and I make no excuses for it.

I bring this up because I have recently discovered how much I have in common with another little wooden boy. This one is a fictional character of ill repute....sort of.

I have come to identify with Dexter Morgan, vigilante serial killer and family man.

The thing about Dexter is, born of tragedy, he developed a defense against emotion. He completely shut down and caved in on himself. By allowing himself to feel nothing, he was able to cope with tragedy. The big problem came in his dissociative state. When you do not open yourself up to connection, you become incapable of it, and thus incapable of humanizing others, or normalizing events and feelings.

It is a wondrous trick to be sure.

It is a terrible thing to be sure.

Though this is startlingly familiar to my defense mechanism, the similarities do not end there.

In order to camouflage himself, Dexter takes on all the outside appearances of normalcy. A good job, a close relationship with his sister, a girlfriend, banal hobbies like bowling. These are all the masks he wears to appear normal, yet they are always at arm's length...or so he believes.

He eventually forms attachments to these things and these people. He begins to care about them.

The trouble is, he is not destined to have these things, and one by one they are stripped from him, save the bowling team. This is how I generally feel.

This is where trouble begins.

As the little wooden boy, I pretend nothing phases me, and I don't give a shit about anything. I play with things just to experience them. I search, like Dexter, for a way to feel alive.

Our defense mechanism precludes the highs and lows of life, until things are at their most drastic, in either direction. In order to feel alive, we must be near death or on top of the world. The middle ground is never enough.

It is never satisfactory to be normal everyday and average. We simply don't feel it.

Our defenses, our shields block those incoming emotions. We cannot feel the value of a summer day, and many simple pleasures are lost on us; you know, until we ritualize them.

Now what is the point to this ramble? No it is not to confess to being a serial killer, though some days, some people annoy me to the point of wondering if it would not be easier to simply fillet them. The point is to gain clarity of focus.

Critical thought is never so powerful and destructive as when we turn it on ourselves.

I say this in hopes you will turn a critical eye towards yourself.

My defense mechanism is star wars style deflector shields, which I angle towards whatever point of attack I perceive as most critical at any given time. Sometimes things creep in around the sides, but for the most part it works, until it is too late and I find myself lost and frightened, like a little boy without his mommy or blanket.

What do you do?

What are you protecting yourself from?

What are you afraid to risk?

I am afraid to risk rejection and hurt. I am afraid to be told I am not good enough.

What is it that you fear so much that you need to shield yourself from it by lying to yourself, or worse, lying to others?

What can't you admit because admitting it would mean exposing yourself?

If you cannot admit what it is, can you admit what you fear?

I am not a particularly brave man, but I did it. I have done it all along, despite what I keep telling myself is the right thing to do.

So now can you be brave enough to admit any of these things?

Can you step outside yourself, risk the status quo, risk what feels safe, and yet unnatural to find out what life feels like? Can you feel alive?