You assume that what people choose to show on this board is all
that there is too them and that you know their personalities by
their postings. You talk of people being afraid to face the darkness
in themselves. Like others here I too choose what I post and conceal
that which I feel others may not understand. We all have our reasons
for the way we act but I don't see it as darkness rather part of a journey
in experience and understanding. I believe that we have the right to
make mistakes and fall down. We also have to take responsibility for
what we do and move on. The only person we need to square what we
have done with is ourselves.
I have helped hundreds of people like you to stop judging themselves and
other people, when I was a therapist.The most fundemental quality of a therapist
is that they do not judge others. You can judge a book by it's cover but people
are different they can present themselves in the cover of their choice, and covers
hide a lot. I understand because I too have lived through what you would call
darkness. Why do think I became a psychotherapist?
I hope you make some good friends and cope with the difficult time you are
Going through. Life does move on.
One of my favourite poems - I have changed the 'he' to 'her' so it makes
more sense to you:
Judge not; the workings of her brain
And of her heart thou canst see;
What looks to thou dim eyes a stain,
In God's pure light may only be
A scar, brought from some well won field,
Where thou would only faint and yield.
The look, the air that frets thy sight,
May be a token, that below
The soul has closed in deadly fight
With some infernal fiery foe,
Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace,
And cast thee shuddering on thy face!
The fall thou darest to despise-
May be the angel's slackened hand
Has suffered it that she may rise
And take a firmer, surer stand;
Or, trusting less to earthly things,
May henceforth learn to use her wings.
And judge none lost; but wait, and see,
With hopeful pity, not distain;
The depth of the abyss may be
The measure of the height of pain
And love and glory that may rise
This soul to God in after days!
A Procter (A Female poet 19th century)