I’ve spent my entire life at war with myself. It’s exhausting.
This isn’t a conflict most people recognize. I don’t blame them, though, because I lived with the conflict for decades without understanding this war within. My nature pushed me in one direction, but my childhood programming pushed me in another. Instead of choosing between them, I tried to have one foot on each side.
I wanted to be perfect. I tried to be competent, logical, driven, faultless, charming and well-adjusted. But something inside pushed me to be creative, brilliant, mercurial, iconoclastic and eccentric. I didn’t understand the natural tradeoffs of life.
When I was growing up, my father told me I was just like him. For a long time, I believed him. I tried to emulate him. Through constant self-discipline, I played the role he dictated for me. I loathed the part of myself that was more like my mother. I suppressed it. I denied it. I ignored it.
But I’ll never be what he wanted me to be. I know how to act that role. I can fake it. But on the inside, I’m the eccentric creative type struggling to get past the conventional mask I wear for the world.

Love & Hope — Episode 1:
Film’s tortured protagonist feels uncomfortably familiar to me
My teen hijinks were silly fun, not alcohol-fueled drunken groping
Emotional toll from surgery harder than physical recovery
Police won’t do their job, but they’ll ticket you for doing it for them
Briefly: How you treat a person in a split second can change his or her day
Briefly: University study about jobless people fails to understand human nature
Briefly: We need to learn to walk away from dangerous disputes