I’ve been feeling insecure lately. I do not like that feeling!
It’s negative and fearful and something I do not want to be.
It took me a long time and a lot of hard work to get to a point of serenity in my life.
I am a creature of habit – yet, open to new experiences. Yes, I know, those contradict one another, but I adapt quickly to new ideas, routines and people.
So much so, that when a new routine suddenly changes – or I get a gut feeling that there has been a change, I’m left only to my imagination. That is a dangerous position to be in.
So the unknown … uncertainty … and my reaction to it – I have to look at that.
I have to look at that, because, I know that the only thing I can change is me – my attitude, my perception, my expectations. They’re all choices.
I am still choosing to be happy. So, I must address this facet of me that is making me feel unhappy.
Since I adopted a very real attitude of gratitude – I lost any desire for ‘more-than-enough’.
Material things aren’t shiny to me. Matters of the heart and soul are of far more value.
It stopped bothering me that I live in a tiny house – I was thankful for a home.
It stopped bothering me that I work so hard to provide for my son and I – the bills got paid.
It also stopped bothering me that I had no one to share my daily life with – I was grateful to have a life.
I count my blessings rather than fixate on what I don’t have.
At the same time, if I’m being honest – I secretly hoped one day for the meant-for-me person to show up.
Someone who cherished me.
Someone who made me feel safe and invited when it came to loving him.
But, I was not expecting it or looking for it.
Fairy tales can come true – I know this. I see other people in my life living them.
And they could happen to me too – if I stop reading so much into nothing.
If I could have faith and believe what those who know and love me the best say: “You deserve a happy ending.”
So I will leave the heart I guarded for so long unguarded, the heart that I kept under lock and key, open and grateful.
I will have faith and believe. And I will not allow fear and uncertainty to hold hope hostage.
Self. Indulge me.
Indulge me – and my foul mood.
You know, I read a friends blog who has Aspergers, and a common thread that I pull from her carefully woven words is that she is trying to process the world around her and her place in it. But what I feel from her words to a degree of envy, is that she knows herself.
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I feel, right now, like a bundle of contradictions – my muscles and my gut tight with the many facets of me that don’t play well with one another.
I despise liars, cannot stand to lie – yet lie to myself.
I cry at romantic movies, and a part of me yearns for the fairy tale ending, while the rest of me knows no one could possibly scale the walls I’ve built around me.
I abhor child abuse – and yet, just this afternoon I spat ugly words over the phone at my son after I perceived that he lied to me, when he was suddenly ‘not hungry’ after I asked him what he wanted from the shop for dinner rather than a drive thru. The sudden, let down, it’s-not-good-enough tone of his voice hit me where it hurt. I seethed. Thinking, ‘Ingrate’. And let him have it.
I might as well have slapped him, because I know how painful venomous words are.
I am impulsive and ugly. I am better alone.
I am always so desperate to please, then resentful that people take so much from me.
I am contradiction incarnate.
And now I am home – and the door to my sons room is closed, and the light is off. And we may as well be a thousand miles apart.
And we are.
I’m in my self-hatred and he is probably letting a nap take him after licking his wounds.
I won’t open his door.
I am stubborn. I am grateful for every day and painfully aware of how, without warning there can be no more days – and yet I squander them.
I don’t plan for the future.
I am content with ‘enough’, yet also settle.
I work hard – I give and I give all that I have. And I am tired. I am not well.
Somedays I only know what day it is because my pill-box reminds me.
I count my blessings, and neglect them.
I am 43 and responsible – and inside right now I just want to curl into the smallest ball I can muster and sob my soul right out of me.
I’ve never felt so alone, and yet have so many friends.
I say I’ll bare it all on my blog and yet, almost every post I find I edit in some way.
Well not this one.