Once upon a time I was told that cynicism is really disillusioned romanticism.
That explanation clicked somewhere deep within me and stuck. When I feel cynical I remember that phrase.
Sometimes I have the awareness to look around and see what ideals have just been smashed into the ground.
I hate having my ideals broken.
Seeing reality doesn’t feel worth the clarity and understanding it brings.
I am disillusioned with Rosebud.
What am I supposed to do when my ideals get broken up? I don’t want to be a cynical, jaded person. I don’t want to see the world through black glass.
Feelings seem to come in layers, emotion under emotion under emotion. The foundation of my cynicism is a deep pool of pain and sadness, rooted in grief and loss.
Would I rather feel those ‘negative’ feelings than sink into the truly negative view that I’ve been experiencing?
It hurts. It sucks. I have cried, flailed about lost and confused, been angry and deeply still.
This must be what it was like when I was three, experiencing that first betrayal.
Can I deal with the pain and learn from it without erecting blocks and fortresses to protect my spirit?
The ideals that were broken shouldn’t have been illusions. They were honourable. Realistic. Even in a fallen world, they should have held true.
I should be able to trust people.
The authorities in my life should be on my side. They should champion my cause; help me complete my training without blocking my path to success. There should be no room, no toleration, for manipulation and bullying.
People should be able to say no and be listened to.
I should have an advocate on my side when I have a conflict or misunderstanding with the school or theatre.
Authority figures shouldn’t let ego and pride shouldn’t get in the way of what is best for those beneath their power.
Adults should take responsibility for their choices. They should accept the consequences of their actions instead of pointing fingers and putting the penalties on those without power.
My friends shouldn’t lie to my face.
The corners of masks are being lifted and those behind them don’t see it happen. Darker layers of humanity are being exposed, denied and lied about. I am losing my ability to trust and I don’t know how to get it back.
I don’t want to be cynical.
I don’t want to be blind.
I don’t want to be guarded.
I don’t want to be foolishly vulnerable.
I want to find the balance, where I can be open as far as I trust, where I can respect myself and avoid unsafe situations, where I can see the faults and yet still like the people.
I want to be able to choose to trust.
Do I wish I had never seen the curtain rise and that I still believed that this place was a little part of Heaven without faults or problems?
It would have been easier if there had been time between the masks’ revelation.
Now I ask:
How do I learn to protect myself righteously instead of being defensive without due cause?
And how do I get my rose-coloured glasses back?