Lessons in extremes tonight: a reminder of important things I already knew, but that I forgot for a while; and then a lesson in the very important things I know, but that I choose to neglect. Bad, bad bird.
I was doing so well, and now I just want to be swallowed into the ground. I did a very silly thing. I relented on my John contact ban. In a moment of weakness, nay, idiocy I posted a ridiculous YouTube clip on his facebook wall. His very public facebook wall... An effing Seinfeld clip of all things. He hates Seinfeld. What the fuck StrangeBird? I am embarrassed for my alter ego; or is that the other way around?! Jesus.
It gets worse, I go the whole hog when I go for personal shame. Not enough that I go the public post, a lame post at that. No, I have to extend the misery...returning three hours later to the scene of the crime to find not a comment, not a pity like; nada-zip-zilch. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it is - because in my mind, he was supposed to see the post, get a laugh, remember how much he missed hearing from me and write back. If I wasn't so occupied being angry at myself for being weak and pathetic, I'd be angry at him for being a stupid, stupid man. I have such a flair for self torture, it's almost an art.
After what we shall from this moment on, call 'The Seinfeld Incident', I took myself to a presentation on 'Sparkling with Confidence - for women'. Some fucking sparkling specimen of a woman I make. Recently I realised I had lost contact with my 'internal' self, and I began to find myself drowning in a sea of my own thoughts. I've been floundering. The talk was interesting and served as a reminder not to let that naughty voice in my head rule me. I think that naughty voice tricked me tonight. Not only did I do something dumb, I also broke a promise to myself, which is the worst betrayal. I know I'll recover...but.
The presenter told a story tonight, about her experience at being at a meditation camp. Every day she would meditate outside, she loved to listen to the tweeting birds - she noticed early on, a lovely sounding parrot, but determined to keep on track she avoided searching for the source of the noise. Everyday the thought of this parrot brought her joy, until the sixth day when she realised it wasn't a parrot at all - but rather a squeaking toilet door. She was initially upset with herself for mistaking a toilet door for an exotic bird - the 'parrot' had delivered her joy, but now what she had was the memory of a toilet. It was at that point she stated that we have a choice in every situation - to choose the parrot, or the poo. For me, tonight was a steaming Seinfeld shaped poo, tomorrow I will hopefully find a parrot to focus on.