The Unreliability of Observation

My perceptions of events are often skewed. Agassi, responding to Poppler and as paraphrased by Diesing, states there is an "utter unreliability of observation, including self-observation" (42). I am conscious as I'm writing that my thoughts and observations of myself and others is inherently biased. Even if I try to look for a "truth" in a situation, I find it difficult to completely reveal my true intentions because I do not know how it will be received. When one is writing an autobiography, he or she may choose challenging and embarrassing moments to share, but will present it in such a light that it creates empathy in the reader. I don't know if I am capable of explaining the stark, naked, honest feelings and recollections of events in a way that moves towards "truth." 

I find myself admiring individuals who state with honesty their experiences even though it brings shame. At least, I would feel ashamed to share that information with others. Louis C.K.'s frank comments about his changing body make me aware of my own doubts. However, I am forgiving and empathetic towards him in a way I fear others would not be towards me.

It is bothering me now as I look back on what I've written that I am moving towards "truth." I was conscious enough about it to put the words in quotations marks because I no longer know if such "truth" exists. I do attempt to come close to it and to represent my reality as I write, but with recognition my view is not shared by others. It is unique.

If I reject there is no "truth," how do I ethically live my life? Without a "truth" is there a common good or a greater goal we can all strive for as a collective? Without a "truth," I could simply make up a persona and live  my life as that person. What makes it difficult for me to reject a "truth," even one with a small "t," is my tie to my body and to the material world. 

My body is a constant source of concern and worry. It attributes to my self-doubt and lack of confidence. It is a barrier to doing things I may want to try. I have a large body. But when I'm not looking in a mirror, I forget about its existence. It is as though it comes in and out of being. I avoid mirrors. When I'm not looking at my reflection, I don't think about how small my eyes are in comparison to my round face. I am not attuned to the amount of extra skin beneath my chin. I don't worry whether my shirt is long enough to cover my protruding belly. 

I forget these things until I am reminded by glances from others on the elevator. I remember one instance where the elevator jumped slightly after we all piled on. Faces looked at me and asked, "Is she making us exceed the weight limit? Should we ask her to get off?" We made it safely to our floor, but for that moment my fat existed.

I've been doing better about taking care of myself by taking my medication. Today I was halfway to my car when leaving the house and turned around to take it. I'm also trying to avoid caffeine because I've been feeling a murmuring or a tremor in my chest. It's not painful but it gives me pause. I wonder if I will have to lose this weight after all. I don't know if I can make the commitment. I don't know if I have the time.