The Walls Between Us

I was chatting to a colleague this week about our various life experiences and how good we become at putting up walls around us. A protective barrier, shielding our inner selves from the outer craziness of life. I for one was very good at this wall building, those first few bricks put firmly in place during childhood and added to with every negative experience in my life so much so that there have been points in my life where even I have found it hard to break through, some how leaving me wondering who the real me was at times. It is only in this last couple of years that I have managed to step out from behind it more and more. I’m not much of a brick layer now, I sometimes liken myself to the prisoner chipping away at the mortar in a prison of my own making attempting to free myself, my true self from these barriers I’ve put up.

Every remark that stung as kid, words and actions that stuck with me, kids can be the cruelest and the kindest yet it was always the cruelty that stayed. Some people would probably say “Hey you are an adult now get over it” and that old favourite when I was younger “Don’t be so sensitive” 

And so we try very hard not to be so sensitive, to develop that tough skin, to let hurt and anger wash over us like it doesn’t matter, stopped by this new invisible wall we have built up.

I wonder what walls my characters would build up and why? What has made Daisy (one of the side characters in a novel I am currently working on) shield herself from others, why does she prefer her own company, denying her very nature to be part of something more? To shy away from trusting anyone because she has been stung before so much so that now she is almost numb to the presence of others, preferring to live in her own bubble. But much like my own walls, the wall gets so big, it becomes overshadowing, all consuming. It transforms into one of many masks that we wear, which we hide behind.

I am guilty of hiding, of wearing a mask. Behind this mask lies the girl who remembers the words “You will always be nothing” Said by a kid when I was one as well but it stayed with me… haunting me. Maybe this is why I dearly hope to be remembered when the world stops turning for me, why deep down I long for some sort of recognition without having to ask for it, because it would mean I have failed to be remembered, if I have to say “hey I did something good today” it means that others haven’t seen it, haven’t seen…well..me? Does that make sense to anyone or do I just sound bonkers?

These silly insecurities from childhood have shaped me, they are the reason why if I get invited anywhere this small part of me will always flit back to the little girl who waited for friends to call but never arrived, this fear of being forgotten lodged deep within…another brick thumps into place…

Our relationships, past and present with friends, family and lovers shape us and they break us or in a lot of cases give us more bricks for our walls. Yet there are some very special people out there who can see straight through these walls of ours. My chap seems to have this inherent ability to see through mine. This was quite alarming to me, because he was the first person to do it, no one has ever done so before. I found myself in shock, seeing myself like a character in a movie frantically pressing a button wondering why on earth it wasn’t working when it always did before. I still have no idea how he does it, but it has made me step out from behind my walls more, as if his ability to see passed them has flicked a switch in my brain that says

“What’s the point in hiding behind a wall that someone can see through?”

It would be like trying to play hide and seek only standing right in front of the person counting thinking they wouldn’t see you.

There are some bricks I still keep, the writers bricks which carry with them all my writer anxieties mainly to do with not being a good writer, not writing enough etc etc, my writers block is more like a stack of bricks, building another wall but I am trying very hard to at least soften the mortar on that one.

So now this is me, laid bare for all the world to see. There are no walls any more, yes I have anxieties that will always be there but they are not hidden away anymore behind bricks and mortar, my life, my experiences, my feelings are what you will see. To put a creative spin on an old quote “Ask me a question and I will tell you no lies”

I wonder if my characters in my stories will ever find this freedom to be themselves or will they stay behind walls of their own making, never letting others see who they really are,  that the people they come into contact with have also put up, I may be able to step out from behind my wall but there are others out there, what bricks have you been filling up your wall with, maybe without realising it? Aren’t we all just hidden behind walls that stand between us? And isn’t it time to break free?