The things we never knew were there because something kept us from seeing clearly, directly. When we don’t acknowledge the blind spots as we drive down the road, we can run people off that road without even knowing they were there until it is too late; till they are nothing but a careening mess in our rearview mirror. And if we are blind enough, we keep moving forward never stopping to find out how bad the damage is, if they are alright. Or we see them in pieces in our mirrors and can’t face the horror of what we’ve done…and so we keep driving.
A warning sign, I missed the good part then I realized, I started looking and the bubble burst. I started looking for excuses.
Then there are Warning Signs, shots across the bow of our sense of self, our position on the landscape. These scare the shit out of us at first. Jolt us. Then we breathe a sigh of relief, of gratitude because it was a heads-up, not a direct hit. Grateful, because we have been shown our blind spots and have a chance to do something before it’s gets too late, too horrific, before the wreckage of friends, and strangers, is a distant reflection on the horizon behind us.
Come on in,
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in; I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones,
That I started looking for a warning sign.
For quite some time I have been in a transitional place. (Some who have known me long would ask, “When have you not been?”) What’s been particular about this one is the utter and complete breaking down of all the things that I thought I was made for, or could believe I was good at; like starting over, but with a lot more answers as to where I won’t be going this time around – which is good. The trick of it all is that I have been going through this with blind spots that somehow formed up along the way like a personality cataract. In the midst of no longer having answers to the questions, “What are you doing? What do you want to do? Where are you going in Life?,” I have used my arrogance and relative confidence as a means of deflection…and protection against the feelings of insecurity to not having the answers. It’s not that I was trying to answer the questions asked. I simply changed the conversation to something that I can answer, using my sense of authority in said topic as means to making me feel secure, or confident. For not having an answer to the most core questions of identity – as if what I do is who I am :) – is too much for any one to handle; be it the one who has to answer or even the one asking.
The trick of this blind spot is that it causes me to not see the humanity in you, to hear what you have to say regardless of the value – because the worth of what you have to say is not really mine to measure. By changing the conversation, I change lanes without checking my blind spot and push aside, or even make brutal contact with you standing right next to me. It isn’t too long before I find I’m alone “out front” with no one to the left or right of me.
When the truth is, I miss you.
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so.
And I'm tired,
I should not have let you down.
I will take all the warning signs I can get. Sometimes they come from others. Sometimes they come from time. Sometimes it is nothing more than the silence that speaks loudest as the shot across my bow. And after I face the blind spots, I find I can see. It is then that, if the damage done is not too severe, then I can turn back into who I really am (that has nothing to do with “what I do”), and into the graceful embrace of others.
So I crawl back into your open arms…
A warning sign,
It came back to haunt me and I realized… - Coldplay