At War With The Chameleon

It’s a characteristic that once served me well.  As a young man living on the streets of Colorado, it was beneficial to my survival to be able to blend in with my surroundings, to take on the characteristics of those around me in order to fit, to not draw too much attention to myself.  It worked for me as a child, when needing to avoid the severe and abusive punishments doled out by my parents, those times when hiding behind the couch and becoming, for all intents and purposes, invisible, was in my best interest.

It wasn’t a physical change that took place (though even now I can’t be sure that statement is true), but a way of shifting my demeanor to mirror those around me.  It felt like absorption, as if I was drawing in not only the mannerisms of those I wished to blend with, but the thought processes, the emotional state, everything.

This was not a characteristic that I could will into action. It was, and is, an ingrained part of who I am.  It’s not a con, not intended to bilk anyone out of money, or possessions, or their identity.  However, many times it cost me my own identity. It was such a part of my amorphous identity at the time, I did not know how to turn it off.  I believe that because of this, all of my intimate relationships were negatively affected by it; as if the facade was erected, and once there, could not be deconstructed.  And so I was trapped behind an assumed identity for the duration…which meant that it lasted until either my partner could not face being around me any longer, for they didn’t truly know who I was, or I would grow weary of maintaining that particular charade, and break it off.

Several years ago, I “went underground” in my life, withdrawing from everyone and everything, trying to root out the core person, my fundamental identity.  It’s been very exhausting peeling those layers, all of which had accumulated over the previous twenty-odd years.

During a conversation with a dear friend of mine recently, she also divulged a similar thing about herself.  As adults, though, the ability to “blend” sometimes became something more destructive.  We felt we had to protect ourselves from others for fear of unintentionally absorbing others’ emotions, behaviors, etc.  This was an awakening moment for me, as I felt that I was perhaps the only person in existence who lived this way.  Now I know there are others.  I recognize them almost immediately, and must struggle to avoid them or become endangered by that old pattern.  The pattern I worked so hard at overcoming.  Because I lived as a chameleon for so long, I recognized the assumed colors of other chameleons.

Perhaps that’s why I was so negatively affected by a so-called friends’ recent betrayal of what I had felt was a deep and growing friendship.  I was taken in by a shape-shifter exactly as I used to be all those years ago.  And maybe I still harbor some of those tendencies.  If so, I’m much more aware of an urge to fall into those patterns again, and swerve away from them if at all possible.  If not, I disconnect from whatever situation is at hand, and walk away.  It no longer serves to be that person.  There is no need.  Nor do I cultivate relationships with those who are still embroiled with their own wars with the chameleon.

Yes, I recognize it as a survival tactic.  But no, I no longer want to have to resort to it in my life.

So let it be written.  So let it be done.