Reflections on the "Individual" Called "Me"

Introduction

On this second page, I would like to talk about what kind of existence the "individual" called "me" is.

I call myself a "3-year-old writer, 28-year-old performer". You might think, "Are you doing writing work with the quality of a 3-year-old?" but please rest assured that I always approach the work I receive with sincerity and write with care.

My disclaimer, which I called an introduction, has become quite long. Now, let's get to the main point. As I mentioned in the previous post, which was the first page of this note and also my profile article, I often use the self-introduction "a 3-year-old pretending to be 28". I even have it as a pinned tweet on Twitter, and I often tweet "I'm 3 years old!" in my daily tweets as well. Why? Because I believe this is an easy-to-understand, and more accurately, a precise way to describe "me".

So, why am I a "3-year-old pretending to be 28"? Today, I will talk about "me" by dividing it into how I am seen by others and how I see myself. And I would also like to touch upon the fateful day that suddenly arrived when I was truly 3 years old.

"Me" as seen from the outside

I am shy, and furthermore, I am bad at anything that has the word "first" attached to it. Not just meeting people for the first time, but going to places I've never been, taking on challenges I've never experienced... all these "firsts" are difficult for me.

To protect myself, to avoid failure, and to avoid being rude, I tell people I meet for the first time right away, "I'm shy." However, people who meet me say, "You don't look shy at all!" And as for their first impression of me, they say I seem "scary," "quiet," or "cheerful," "bright," and "approachable."

I feel like I am rarely told the former nowadays, but I heard later from friends I met during my prickly adolescence that I gave them that impression at the time. And from around the age of twenty to the present, I am told the latter.

The person called "me" as seen from the outside, or by others, can be summarized as "a bright, cheerful, and approachable person." However, the "me" that I think of myself as is far from that persona.

"Me" as seen from the inside

"I" am a very self-deprecating person. Negative thinking is my default, and I view everything pessimistically.

For example, when someone says, "You look a bit different today." From the outside, I can laugh and say, "Oh? In what way? Do I look cuter than usual?" In fact, the "me" seen from the outside is not wrong. I am intentionally trying to behave that way, so in other words, it could be said that I must look that way.

I want to be "a bright, playful, and funny person."

As I mentioned earlier, I tell people I meet for the first time, "I'm shy." This is my so-called "going-out" face to protect myself. It is true that I am shy. However, by telling them this in advance, a character of "a bright, cheerful, and approachable person" is formed in our subsequent interactions. As the relationship deepens a little more, it levels up to "a bright, playful, and funny person." This is my own form of armor.

As I wrote at the beginning, the "me" I see from the inside is a self-deprecating person. I have negative thoughts and view everything pessimistically. So, when someone says to me, "You look a bit different today," in my heart, I think, "What's wrong? My clothes? My makeup? Or is it me as an individual?" Even though no one said my clothes, my makeup, or I was "wrong." This is "me" as seen by me.

The February 28th of the "me" who was truly 3 years old

As I have mentioned, I am a "3-year-old pretending to be 28," so to the world, I am a respectable adult woman of 28. However, of course, there was a time when I was truly 3 years old, and that is who I am today.

I was truly 3 years old 25 years ago, in 1995.

I say this myself, but I think I was a truly loved child. I respect my father, my Papa, and my mother, my Mama. I can proudly say that the person I respect most in this world is my Papa, and the second most is my Mama.

However, I have no memories of my mom.

February 28, 1995.I was supposed to have been raised with all the love in the world by parents who, even setting aside the bias of a relative, I can say with certainty were wonderful people, but I suddenly lost my mom on this day. It was an accident at a railroad crossing. I didn't learn the details of this until 2016. I would like to talk about that later.

February 28, 1995, changed the course of my life forever.

I don't remember a single thing about that fateful day. What was the weather like? What was I doing? What was I feeling? In fact, I don't remember a single thing about my beloved mom, either.

I know her face from photographs. I learned about her personality from what others have told me.

But I myself do not know her. What did her voice sound like? What kind of words did she say to me? How did she touch me? How did she love me? I remember nothing.

This is the February 28th of the 'me' who was truly three years old.the February 28th of the 'me' who was truly three years old.

The 'me' who is a three-year-old pretending to be 28

On June 22, 2018, I was able to receive the proposal I had been longing for. Then, on November 22 of the same year, 'Good Couple Day,' we registered our marriage. I currently live with my husband, Norinko-kun, whose name appeared briefly on the first page.

Throughout our eight years of dating before marriage, and even now as our first wedding anniversary since registering our marriage approaches, my insecure self still says heartless things like,'If there were someone with the exact same conditions as me but without the illness, you'd choose them, right?'At times like that, Norinko-kun says this.

'That wouldn't be any fun at all.'he says.

Norinko-kun accepts 'me,' including everything I hate most about my personality, my nature, and my illness. He loves me.

When I fall into a depressive state, thinking,'It can't get any lower than this, I'm at rock bottom,'and I abandon everything—the meal preparation, laundry, and cleaning that housewives everywhere work hard at every day—and stay in bed, Norinko-kun says,'It's better to be able to sleep a lot than not be able to sleep at all! Sleep as much as you want.'he says.

Conversely, when I am in a high-tension manic state, chatting away all night and threatening to ruin his day off when he could finally heal his body tired from work, he says this:'Yeah, yeah, I get it. But it's time to sleep now, aren't you sleepy?'And then, so that I can fall asleep, he brings me my medicine and water. Even then, I don't settle down right away, so the three-year-old me begs,

'Hold me!'I say.

In reality, Norinko-kun holds my 28-year-old self properly and pats my back until I'm satisfied, just like he would soothe a very small child.

Together with my husband, Norinko-kun, who understands, accepts, and loves 'me' in this way, I am living a life that is somehow, somehow, but definitely happy, while jumping back and forth betweenmaniaanddepression.

I would like to write about my meeting with Norinko-kun and episodes from when we were dating in the pages to come. I know I'm the one saying it, but he is a person you cannot help but love. I want to properly convey the 'individual' that is the wonderful 'Norinko' once again. Since someone like me was able to meet a person like him, the day will surely come whenyou, who are reading this, will also meet such a special person you cannot help but love.

Finally

I do not intend to write about bipolar disorder (manic depression) in particular on this note. That is because there are many people who already write (or draw) about it, even without me going out of my way to do so.

Since this is the story of the 'individual' known as 'me,' I will be writing about myself, things related to me, and the elements that shape who I am.

I post little daily anecdotes on Twitter, so please feel free to follow me! I also have a question box, so if there is anything you would like to ask, please don't hesitate to do so.

Twitter account:@kamimatsunori
Question box:https://t.co/Y1F65HK8Z2?amp=1

Well then, that's it for page two!