I was having such a good time. But I could tell the thoughts were going south fast. Sure I would break out into a dance worthy of the classiest clubs the Jersey shore can offer. But my thoughts would turn to wtf am I going to do this Sunday? I'm going to be all alone...
And suddenly it turned. I was upstairs, hanging my laundry on the hangers, and I decided to stop fighting the tears. I am afraid no one will ever love me. It is upsetting and freeing to actually string the words together, because I think it's been a concern for a while. Originally, back in the old days with the ex, the concern was probably What if I'm not in love?. Now it's that dark thought up there.
What if I'll never know what reciprocated love really is?
I certainly don't feel it now. Even when I allow myself to feel it internally, it certainly isn't expressed externally. And that leaves me feeling empty. How long can I go like this?
And just like that I feel like watching episodes of something-or-other just to get my mind off the subject and pass the time. So many questions come up. It's overwhelming.
Why can't I be by myself and be okay?
How do other people do it? Do they all "fall in love" and stay with the person?
Will I be reduced to waiting with bated breath for my Mr. Right Now to call upon me unless I fight the urge to pick up the phone on the first ring?
Or is it just the sort of thing I need to detox from? A solid 6 month stay at a rehab in the middle of Arizona.
I need to work toward my solo goals. I need to make my solo goals... So much work.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Sunday, September 7, 2014
#Nofilter
“Although the most acute judges of the witches and even the witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchery, the guilt nevertheless was non-existent. It is thus with all guilt.” Friedrich Nietzsche
I read that and laughed. In my head, of course, because I'm at Panera and I would look mighty strange laughing to myself. But it was one of those, ::point at the screen and go "HAH!" as if the person is lying to themselves and everyone else::. But it's Nietzsche and he said some things I can barely fathom so that's that.
I got the quote from this guy. It came up in a google search. Most good things on the internet do.
ANYway.
I decided to post about that quote because I am a living breathing guilty conscience in leggings, carrying lots of bags. I am female first. Guilty conscience second. Sometimes, my femaleness comes secondary to how guilty I perceive myself to be. Which brings us back to Panera, at noon on a Sunday in September. I'm sitting here minding my own business, brushing up on counseling theory (enter existentialism) and these little girls walk in. They're sisters obviously, and their mom is adorably wrapped up in how cute they're being. The older of the two sisters is wearing bright pink, glittery, light-up sneakers, pigtails in her hair, pink headband to match her sneakers. She's jumping around, talking a mile a minute, completely oblivious to any onlookers, or the fact that the guy behind the counter is waiting to take her mom's order. Her little sister walked in, stepping only on the cream-colored tiles on the floor. If I or any other adult did that, it would look OCD, circa Monk. When she does it, it looks like a little girl being silly. And completely oblivious to onlookers. Do you see where I'm going with this? Who cares if I have OCD? I don't, but even if I did, who cares? It wouldn't be something I could help any more than the little girl who feels the need to wear flamboyant glittery pink sneakers.
The Bottom Line:
I need to be #nofilter more often. And I don't just mean on Instagram. I do okay sometimes, but I tend to be so apologetic when I lose my filter even the slightest bit, that it takes away from the usefulness and effectiveness of my #nofilter practice.
Part of the problem is that I am so well-socialized as an adult female, that I forget what it's like to only step on the cream colored tiles. It ends up not even occurring to me! That aspect of this practice is a post for another time. Until then...
#Nofilter:
I'm doing it braless today, even/especially in public. I got teary-eyed talking to Mr. YnH about my future and what means a lot to me, and then I felt guilty about the opportunities I have to look forward to in my career. I am going to buy myself some trail running sneaks and I am going to use them. I wrote "I am not a therapist. I am a helper." at the top of my counseling notes. I hardly remember anything from counseling theory and it makes me feel stupid and ill-equipped.
That's all for today. Go smell some sunshine.
I read that and laughed. In my head, of course, because I'm at Panera and I would look mighty strange laughing to myself. But it was one of those, ::point at the screen and go "HAH!" as if the person is lying to themselves and everyone else::. But it's Nietzsche and he said some things I can barely fathom so that's that.
I got the quote from this guy. It came up in a google search. Most good things on the internet do.
ANYway.
I decided to post about that quote because I am a living breathing guilty conscience in leggings, carrying lots of bags. I am female first. Guilty conscience second. Sometimes, my femaleness comes secondary to how guilty I perceive myself to be. Which brings us back to Panera, at noon on a Sunday in September. I'm sitting here minding my own business, brushing up on counseling theory (enter existentialism) and these little girls walk in. They're sisters obviously, and their mom is adorably wrapped up in how cute they're being. The older of the two sisters is wearing bright pink, glittery, light-up sneakers, pigtails in her hair, pink headband to match her sneakers. She's jumping around, talking a mile a minute, completely oblivious to any onlookers, or the fact that the guy behind the counter is waiting to take her mom's order. Her little sister walked in, stepping only on the cream-colored tiles on the floor. If I or any other adult did that, it would look OCD, circa Monk. When she does it, it looks like a little girl being silly. And completely oblivious to onlookers. Do you see where I'm going with this? Who cares if I have OCD? I don't, but even if I did, who cares? It wouldn't be something I could help any more than the little girl who feels the need to wear flamboyant glittery pink sneakers.
The Bottom Line:
I need to be #nofilter more often. And I don't just mean on Instagram. I do okay sometimes, but I tend to be so apologetic when I lose my filter even the slightest bit, that it takes away from the usefulness and effectiveness of my #nofilter practice.
Part of the problem is that I am so well-socialized as an adult female, that I forget what it's like to only step on the cream colored tiles. It ends up not even occurring to me! That aspect of this practice is a post for another time. Until then...
#Nofilter:
I'm doing it braless today, even/especially in public. I got teary-eyed talking to Mr. YnH about my future and what means a lot to me, and then I felt guilty about the opportunities I have to look forward to in my career. I am going to buy myself some trail running sneaks and I am going to use them. I wrote "I am not a therapist. I am a helper." at the top of my counseling notes. I hardly remember anything from counseling theory and it makes me feel stupid and ill-equipped.
That's all for today. Go smell some sunshine.
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