You reap what you sow, that's what those wise folk tell us, and for me at the moment - it's harvesting season.
I've had a lot of trouble at my work this year. Between shuffling roles, and the displacement that has caused; a delusional office 'romance' that never left the ground and shall we say - personality clashes, I've had a bit of a rough time. Nonetheless, it's a roller coaster that I've been doing my best to ride with grace. Every time I think I can't take anymore, I survive another week and battle on for that looming long-service-leave that keeps me hanging onto the nastiest of cliff-faces.
The inner turmoil has had it's ever flowing affect on my home life, my health and my self esteem. Everything with Manchild and the feelings that accompanied this massive failure in discernment had me doubting myself. Allowing myself to shrink, and feel this need to be wanted, was nothing short of disturbing. How could I be so willing to hand my power to someone else? At the time, I'd heard about the transformative power of one simple thought; that is: "I am enough". I clung to this like a lifeboat; if I saw it enough, if I thought it enough, if I repeated it enough - perhaps like magic, it would help put together these broken parts of myself. I purchased myself a mantra bracelet, and etched into it three words: You. Are. Enough.
I took that bracelet off yesterday. Prematurely perhaps? The bracelet caught a few peoples eye over the time I wore it - some would comment on it. And I began to think to myself - am I giving my secret away? Am I handing strangers and familiar alike the keys to my destruction? This girl has no self esteem... She thinks she's rubbish... She has no confidence... How can I exploit this? How can I convince her she's not enough? It started to feel like it could be a target. A sign saying - hey - here's my glass jaw! Come hit me! Despite the inner-voice-implied subtext, I persisted wearing it, until yesterday - when I decided that I was strong enough to do without.
It's Tuesday, and it's already been a tough work week. I have been on the receiving end of some cool behavior, which has honestly shocked me. Manchild has been all but ignoring me - avoiding my vicinity, my eye line and anything I say. That started most intensely yesterday - and I called him out on it today, to which he denied. He was lying.
Some may say I deserve this. I've been cool with my coworkers for some time now, in the name of self-preservation I stepped back, I did not engage with people. I've been unhappy, and perhaps at times I have outwardly wallowed in this frustration. I am also a human. But, I recognise blocking these coworkers on Instagram might be seen as some kind of call to arms. I say I don't want people I work with seeing my inner most thoughts and observations, and feeling censored for it. And if any of them should ask I'll tell them the same thing. I'm not going to apologise for wanting 'space'. If they want to stalk me, they can put in some effort and do it the old fashioned way.
But still, I thought I had remained steady with Manchild. Even after things cooled off and he lost any interest he had in me and found a real live girlfriend. Not only is he freezing me out, but he's being actively nasty and hurtful, and it's not pretty. It's not a side to him that I have seen before, and I think that has been the most shocking. It's ever so disappointing when those rose-coloured glasses come off unexpectedly, and the things you thought you knew about someone are suddenly exposed in a new light. He is nasty and angry and untrustworthy to boot. And might I add, a gutless pussy.
Perhaps I have hurt him, or perhaps this has been him all along? It's an awful thing to feel dismissed by people, and his behaviour feels as if it's rubbing off on others too. I think I'm paranoid... it's complicated. It's not helping those grasping hands on the sharp cliff-edge. Evidently I'm reaping the 'rewards' of my misery, but boy I hope it lets up soon. I refuse to let this break me.
Showing posts with label I should be sleeping right now. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I should be sleeping right now. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Saturday, April 23, 2016
lost myself, again
Look at me I’m such a basket case
Delivered to you wrapped in cellophane
Waiting on your doorstep, every day
Delivery, a basket filled with pain...
- Sia
Something snapped in me a couple of weeks ago. In the lead-up I'd been dealing with quite a bit of work stress, I'd been chatted to by my supervisor, about my 'overworrying' so I was trying so very hard, to not try so very hard - or at least make it appear that way... I understood what I was being told, but I was trying to prepare myself for any foreseeable outcome, I was trying to arm myself with every weapon in my arsenal, but I simply couldn't carry the weight. I was trying to be perfect, flawless. I was told it was unrealistic, it was unnecessary. I knew what they were saying, but I was trying to prove myself. I've been trying to prove myself my whole life.
Work has been a mixture of strange feelings for the past weeks. I'd been thrown back into a role I hadn't done in a long while, back with people I didn't necessarily mesh well with, relying on their assistance and my own skewed sense of competency. I'd also been sitting across from the source of my malignant workplace crush: Manchild. Working with him made getting out of bed in the morning easier, work more bearable and weekends became excruciatingly long. This 'crush' has also come to make a dire mess of me.
It was a Thursday, my last day in this challenging work rotation and it was set to be a long day. I was strangely well-composed, even 'chilled' on the exterior. My last hoorah - come what may! In the late afternoon, I hit a speed bump - I was overtired and frustrated. Manchild had been away for work, was due to return this afternoon, it had been three days since seeing him. As I was reaching speed on my decline, he walked in... he shouldn't have been there. My heart leapt and I was overwhelmed with the sudden desire to cry my eyes out. It was as if my very own knight in shining armor had knocked at my castle door. People talk about being unable to wipe a smile of their face - I now understood this kind of smile.
Unbeknownst to me he stayed. He stayed until I finished. He stayed for me? Then as I was collecting my things he told me he had decided to pursue a longstanding passion that would almost certainly take him out of our shared workplace, and out of our hometown. Tears were welling in my eyes.
It was like John all over again. A lesson not yet learned, manifesting in some new cruel way. I had to flee immediately. I feigned part exhaustion, but I fear even a blind soul could sense my upset, my tears freely leaking.
I had to rush to the safety of my car. Sobbing part way there - begging the Gods that I not bump into anyone I know. I got to my car and I sobbed heartily the whole way home. I'm quite surprised I actually made it home without incident. My parents could not understand why I was in the state, and neither could I really. I continued to sob in the shower, as I pleaded with God, the Angels, or whoever dared listen: please, not again.
I went to work the next day. On the drive home at the end of the day, I became a similar teary mess.
Monday rolled around, back to my old menial role...ripped from the company of Manchild, I slipped further into an ugly black hole. I started crying, in front of a coworker. I couldn't collect myself - I had to hide away in a dark room - more than once. I could hear other coworkers, including Manchild having a jolly old time in another part of the office. It seemed an added cruelty on my already frayed emotional state. Much of that day was spent fighting the urge to cry. Each evening going home, feeling ill with this darkness. Tuesday, Wednesday...fighting tears. Evidently I had lost the footing I had so solemly maintained after John, after changing jobs, after the death of my beloved pet, after so many knocks. I'd finally succumbed to the black dog again, and he had me in his jaws.
This week just passed, went by in usual fashion. I thought I had begun to make some headway - but another work incident knocked me on Wednesday, and I went down again.
I have whimpered and howled in bathroom stalls, showers and in the dark silence of 'bed-time'. I have hidden sneaky tears at customer service counters, and inhaled and exhaled the muted upset to just make it to another day. To make it to another day in which Manchild would finally declare his feelings.
"I can't do this again" is what I cried to the Divine. Wrong. I won't do this again.
Again, I have lost sight of who I am, near-drowned myself in the shadow version of me that I thought he'd like. That I thought, the 'cool-girls' would like. I've been trying to be ok with eroding myself. I'm so messed up with these muddy thoughts that I don't even remember what I'm doing from one moment to the next. I cannot believe I sabotaged myself again. I cannot believe I fooled myself again.
It's late, and right now I should be sleeping, but I needed to get this out. I had hoped to spill everything; for as sure as I know I put myself here, with my thoughts, I know also that the situation does not belong solely to me.
But most of all, with this anger-tinged clarity, I needed to write down, for the 'me' that will undoubtedly weaken momentarily again... I need to tell her - that this guy, these people, this bullshit morphing of myself is utter fucking crap. That none of it - that none of our late night imaginings, warm affections and sassy office repartee are anything other than slight of hand, smoke screen distractions from our self. I - we - started a journey of self discovery, we knew that the path to love was going to start with loving our own self - even the dark parts. I got lost. I got transported to another dimension, but I will get back to myself.
Manchild is not the answer you seek. Nor is an attentive boss, a flattering friend, an approving parent, a complimentary stranger. These archetypes are not the missing piece of the puzzle, they are not going to make everything better - the power you are assigning to these faceless figures does not exist. I know it doesn't feel like it, but this is something we must believe - we must know, that all the power we will ever need, all the love we are seeking to find is already there, inside ourselves. Believe it. Don't be distracted by anything else, because this is the only love that matters, and it is the only thing that is going to fix you.
Delivered to you wrapped in cellophane
Waiting on your doorstep, every day
Delivery, a basket filled with pain...
- Sia
Something snapped in me a couple of weeks ago. In the lead-up I'd been dealing with quite a bit of work stress, I'd been chatted to by my supervisor, about my 'overworrying' so I was trying so very hard, to not try so very hard - or at least make it appear that way... I understood what I was being told, but I was trying to prepare myself for any foreseeable outcome, I was trying to arm myself with every weapon in my arsenal, but I simply couldn't carry the weight. I was trying to be perfect, flawless. I was told it was unrealistic, it was unnecessary. I knew what they were saying, but I was trying to prove myself. I've been trying to prove myself my whole life.
Work has been a mixture of strange feelings for the past weeks. I'd been thrown back into a role I hadn't done in a long while, back with people I didn't necessarily mesh well with, relying on their assistance and my own skewed sense of competency. I'd also been sitting across from the source of my malignant workplace crush: Manchild. Working with him made getting out of bed in the morning easier, work more bearable and weekends became excruciatingly long. This 'crush' has also come to make a dire mess of me.
It was a Thursday, my last day in this challenging work rotation and it was set to be a long day. I was strangely well-composed, even 'chilled' on the exterior. My last hoorah - come what may! In the late afternoon, I hit a speed bump - I was overtired and frustrated. Manchild had been away for work, was due to return this afternoon, it had been three days since seeing him. As I was reaching speed on my decline, he walked in... he shouldn't have been there. My heart leapt and I was overwhelmed with the sudden desire to cry my eyes out. It was as if my very own knight in shining armor had knocked at my castle door. People talk about being unable to wipe a smile of their face - I now understood this kind of smile.
Unbeknownst to me he stayed. He stayed until I finished. He stayed for me? Then as I was collecting my things he told me he had decided to pursue a longstanding passion that would almost certainly take him out of our shared workplace, and out of our hometown. Tears were welling in my eyes.
It was like John all over again. A lesson not yet learned, manifesting in some new cruel way. I had to flee immediately. I feigned part exhaustion, but I fear even a blind soul could sense my upset, my tears freely leaking.
I had to rush to the safety of my car. Sobbing part way there - begging the Gods that I not bump into anyone I know. I got to my car and I sobbed heartily the whole way home. I'm quite surprised I actually made it home without incident. My parents could not understand why I was in the state, and neither could I really. I continued to sob in the shower, as I pleaded with God, the Angels, or whoever dared listen: please, not again.
I went to work the next day. On the drive home at the end of the day, I became a similar teary mess.
Monday rolled around, back to my old menial role...ripped from the company of Manchild, I slipped further into an ugly black hole. I started crying, in front of a coworker. I couldn't collect myself - I had to hide away in a dark room - more than once. I could hear other coworkers, including Manchild having a jolly old time in another part of the office. It seemed an added cruelty on my already frayed emotional state. Much of that day was spent fighting the urge to cry. Each evening going home, feeling ill with this darkness. Tuesday, Wednesday...fighting tears. Evidently I had lost the footing I had so solemly maintained after John, after changing jobs, after the death of my beloved pet, after so many knocks. I'd finally succumbed to the black dog again, and he had me in his jaws.
This week just passed, went by in usual fashion. I thought I had begun to make some headway - but another work incident knocked me on Wednesday, and I went down again.
I have whimpered and howled in bathroom stalls, showers and in the dark silence of 'bed-time'. I have hidden sneaky tears at customer service counters, and inhaled and exhaled the muted upset to just make it to another day. To make it to another day in which Manchild would finally declare his feelings.
"I can't do this again" is what I cried to the Divine. Wrong. I won't do this again.
Again, I have lost sight of who I am, near-drowned myself in the shadow version of me that I thought he'd like. That I thought, the 'cool-girls' would like. I've been trying to be ok with eroding myself. I'm so messed up with these muddy thoughts that I don't even remember what I'm doing from one moment to the next. I cannot believe I sabotaged myself again. I cannot believe I fooled myself again.
It's late, and right now I should be sleeping, but I needed to get this out. I had hoped to spill everything; for as sure as I know I put myself here, with my thoughts, I know also that the situation does not belong solely to me.
But most of all, with this anger-tinged clarity, I needed to write down, for the 'me' that will undoubtedly weaken momentarily again... I need to tell her - that this guy, these people, this bullshit morphing of myself is utter fucking crap. That none of it - that none of our late night imaginings, warm affections and sassy office repartee are anything other than slight of hand, smoke screen distractions from our self. I - we - started a journey of self discovery, we knew that the path to love was going to start with loving our own self - even the dark parts. I got lost. I got transported to another dimension, but I will get back to myself.
Manchild is not the answer you seek. Nor is an attentive boss, a flattering friend, an approving parent, a complimentary stranger. These archetypes are not the missing piece of the puzzle, they are not going to make everything better - the power you are assigning to these faceless figures does not exist. I know it doesn't feel like it, but this is something we must believe - we must know, that all the power we will ever need, all the love we are seeking to find is already there, inside ourselves. Believe it. Don't be distracted by anything else, because this is the only love that matters, and it is the only thing that is going to fix you.
Monday, October 26, 2015
the cookie incident
There are a certain number of truths I carry around with me in life to help me maintain my sense of equilibrium in this crazy world - the kind of comforts I can lay my head on at night. Things like 'the Kardashians are mostly made of plastic', 'chocolate is good', 'baby pink does not suit my colouring' and 'you can never have too many pairs of earrings', so on and so forth.
FACT: I can cook a kick-ass choc-chip and pecan nut cookie. Anyone who tries aforementioned cookie, loves it, and me - by way of the heart route via stomach phenomenon. I could hang my hat on that certainty.
I recently had my first year anniversary at my not-so-new job. Baking seemed appropriate, it seemed like the kind of thing Jesus might do if he had earned his one year badge with an employer. I went to the recipe - I carefully, perhaps even lovingly sifted, chopped, weighed, measured, mixed, spooned, baked and packed, to perfection, said kick-ass choc-chip and pecan nut cookies. This morning I took them in; I even hand wrote a kooky-yet-charming sign inviting my co-workers to partake in the cookie eating. I didn't expect a fanfare, I just wanted to say, you know "thanks" (read: "thanks, for not being complete assholes all of the time") and perhaps hope they would enjoy them as much as every other human who has ever encountered them before.
Tasting got off to a VERY slow start. None of this pre-10am business. "Pussies" I thought. Pfft - I had one at 7.25am. My boss finally tried one, and seemingly loved it, reaction was baseline kick-ass cookie - grateful and kind. Someone else tried one, after I suggested it a couple of times, said nothing - may as well have been eating dirt I guess. Someone else tried one, told me I did "well" (like - what the fuck?) and kept moving on. Someone else gave them a go on her lunch-break and also indicated her enjoyment, even went back for a second in quick succession. By the end of the day, there was one lonely cookie left. As I walked out the door, picking up my box with it's single lonely kick-ass cookie, I asked my old supervisor, knowing she hadn't tried one yet, if she wanted it, "No thanks" she said. Then, I turned to the only dude that works in my department and asked if he would have the last one. "No thanks, I already had one". "Fuck you" I said (in my head). I'm not a pretty face, by no means can I sway and seduce with any form of charm or charisma - but no man - no man has ever declined my fucking cookie before. It hurt. It hurt real bad.
Maybe I expected too much. My previous bunch of coworkers loved the absolute shit out of these cookies. I'd get baking requests, recipe sharing requests. The damn container was always empty at the end of the day, and if there happened to be one morsel left out of politeness, I wouldn't have to ask more than once before a taker or two quickly appeared.
Had I lost my baking prowess?
Had my faithful recipe betrayed me?
Had I asked too much of the great cookie Gods?
I've been trying really hard not to hate the people I work with. (It's really challenging some days). I've had some frustrating setbacks, and experiences this past year and I've just been wanting to accept, and carry on like the good soldier I can be. Sometimes there are tears, sometimes there is sniping and there is always swearing - but Jesus, I try! And I made these people my prize fucking cookies!
I smoldered on the drive home. What is wrong with these people? What did I do to deserve this? How DARE they? I just couldn't reconcile the days cookie intake, or reaction. By the end of my short drive, I concluded that they simply must be queer. It also occurred to me after some venting, that it had been quite important, that they like my offering. This result did not meet my expectations, and I must own my part in wanting that acceptance to transfer to me. The person, not the kick-ass cookie.
It shits me to tears, but it is an undeniable truth that, right or no, all I ever want of people is for them to like me, accept me, appreciate me. Learning that this isn't always possible, is a lesson hard-won.
But seriously, who in their right mind says "no" to food offered by a half-blood Sicilian? It's unheard of. Work dude better watch out. He's going to have to work seriously hard for my throwaway laughs now. Fucker. And just as I was starting to like him too.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
return to sender
Dear God,
I'd like to make a return please. Your conditions clearly stipulate that one is only given as much as they can handle. I don't know what the others have been saying, but I am not doing OK with this load you've given me. I think there's been some kind of mistake?
If you need me to fill out some kind of form, I'd be happy to oblige - but you have gotta take some of this crap off my hands. I don't know who you might be able to "redistribute" these things to - I'm hoping you might be able to recycle, or better yet, liquidate things altogether.
The incessant neck pain,
the never ending fucking headache,
the earache, the plantar fasciitis,
the fat pad atrophy (great sense of irony there bud; real nice of you to shrink the single most important piece of fat in my fat-rich body!)
the bad hair,
the big ugly feet,
that fingernail on my right hand middle finger that Just. Keeps. Breaking
the asshole boss,
the crooked nose,
the instinctive pull to eat my feelings,
the poor sleep,
the fear, the angst and all the sadness,
the complete and distinct void of purpose in my life
and that glorious innate reflex to run, anytime something seems remotely hard or uncomfortable or scary.
And you know what? To me, pretty much everything is scary.
Enough already. I'm waving the white flag. I just can't juggle this many things at once, truth be known I'm a terrible juggler - two things - tops!
For the love of all things good in the world, will you please give a girl a break and ease up? And, if you won't take anything back, will you at least send someone down here to help me out?
Kind Regards,
Me xx
I'd like to make a return please. Your conditions clearly stipulate that one is only given as much as they can handle. I don't know what the others have been saying, but I am not doing OK with this load you've given me. I think there's been some kind of mistake?
If you need me to fill out some kind of form, I'd be happy to oblige - but you have gotta take some of this crap off my hands. I don't know who you might be able to "redistribute" these things to - I'm hoping you might be able to recycle, or better yet, liquidate things altogether.
The incessant neck pain,
the never ending fucking headache,
the earache, the plantar fasciitis,
the fat pad atrophy (great sense of irony there bud; real nice of you to shrink the single most important piece of fat in my fat-rich body!)
the bad hair,
the big ugly feet,
that fingernail on my right hand middle finger that Just. Keeps. Breaking
the asshole boss,
the crooked nose,
the instinctive pull to eat my feelings,
the poor sleep,
the fear, the angst and all the sadness,
the complete and distinct void of purpose in my life
and that glorious innate reflex to run, anytime something seems remotely hard or uncomfortable or scary.
And you know what? To me, pretty much everything is scary.
Enough already. I'm waving the white flag. I just can't juggle this many things at once, truth be known I'm a terrible juggler - two things - tops!
For the love of all things good in the world, will you please give a girl a break and ease up? And, if you won't take anything back, will you at least send someone down here to help me out?
Kind Regards,
Me xx
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
driving in dreams
Last night I had a bad dream.
In this dream, I was driving this huge 4WD - it was awkward to handle, and hard to move - I was completely out of my depth. And then I tried to park it, and I had to park it in this tiny spot, amongst the nicer cars of people who didn't like me. And as I was trying to correct my parking, I ended up smashing into all these cars, causing a huge mess and uproar. I didn't know what I was doing, and people were angry with me. In the dream, I also drove this car in dark, unfamiliar streets and I felt scared, and alone.
In reality as I drove to work this morning, I thought about what the contents of this dream might mean. If I transferred the belief that driving in dreams is supposed to indicate how you are 'driving' in life - then, that would mean that loosely I currently find myself in uncharted territory, driving ideas and feelings I don't know how to manoeuvre. Which is true.
Yesterday I turned 31. The lovely moon decided to eclipse and turn red (only my favourite colour, since forever!), which I thought was a superb present, thank you moon and sun - although I couldn't appreciate it, being that I'm in Western Australia and us folks didn't have the greatest view. It didn't matter though, I knew something special was happening somewhere, and I was happy enough. After fare-welling visitors, inside I came to find a lovely butterfly sitting on the kitchen cupboards. A proper daytime butterfly with deep black wings, speckled with white dots. Once I got over the shock (almost mistaking it for a horrible moth - eek!) it felt like a present, just for me.
I'm managing a saga of a migraine headache at present, an almost unrelenting ping of pain from my neck into my head, and an insatiable appetite for sleep. And I'm just trying to do it all, while juggling thoughts about accepting myself in my 31st year, wondering if someone will think I'm worth their time, effort, love. And more importantly, whether I could ever think that of myself.
My two year old niece is in her 'abracadabra' stage - she twirls her finger and while shouting the word declares she has turned me into a frog! Today, I went to buy her a little toy wand, so she could practice her magic for real.
Remember being a child, and thinking anything was possible?
In this dream, I was driving this huge 4WD - it was awkward to handle, and hard to move - I was completely out of my depth. And then I tried to park it, and I had to park it in this tiny spot, amongst the nicer cars of people who didn't like me. And as I was trying to correct my parking, I ended up smashing into all these cars, causing a huge mess and uproar. I didn't know what I was doing, and people were angry with me. In the dream, I also drove this car in dark, unfamiliar streets and I felt scared, and alone.
In reality as I drove to work this morning, I thought about what the contents of this dream might mean. If I transferred the belief that driving in dreams is supposed to indicate how you are 'driving' in life - then, that would mean that loosely I currently find myself in uncharted territory, driving ideas and feelings I don't know how to manoeuvre. Which is true.
Yesterday I turned 31. The lovely moon decided to eclipse and turn red (only my favourite colour, since forever!), which I thought was a superb present, thank you moon and sun - although I couldn't appreciate it, being that I'm in Western Australia and us folks didn't have the greatest view. It didn't matter though, I knew something special was happening somewhere, and I was happy enough. After fare-welling visitors, inside I came to find a lovely butterfly sitting on the kitchen cupboards. A proper daytime butterfly with deep black wings, speckled with white dots. Once I got over the shock (almost mistaking it for a horrible moth - eek!) it felt like a present, just for me.
I'm managing a saga of a migraine headache at present, an almost unrelenting ping of pain from my neck into my head, and an insatiable appetite for sleep. And I'm just trying to do it all, while juggling thoughts about accepting myself in my 31st year, wondering if someone will think I'm worth their time, effort, love. And more importantly, whether I could ever think that of myself.
My two year old niece is in her 'abracadabra' stage - she twirls her finger and while shouting the word declares she has turned me into a frog! Today, I went to buy her a little toy wand, so she could practice her magic for real.
Remember being a child, and thinking anything was possible?
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
evolution is hard
This year the universe has been screaming at me to change; I'm trying you fucker is what I usually scream back in the dead of night. After I've read my latest self-help book, completed a guided meditation and over-thought my actions of the day (not necessarily in that order, that would definitely defeat the purpose of said activities).
Seriously, change is on the menu, as is being a better human. But it's not easy work. Evolution is not easy, despite what the bible says. Dear God, please don't send me to hell for that comment.
At work, I am positively surrounded by self-obsessed assholes - and it takes every bit of my self control some days, not to outwardly mock their tone and narcissistic verbal diarrhoea. You know I'm doing it in my head right, and sometimes it sort of just slips out...
Anyway, being around these kinds of people, aside from shitting me off, also reminds me about the kind of person I don't want to be. Not in a self righteous kind of way, more just in the vein of I don't want to be a jerk. The thing that erks me about these variety of humans, is the way they treat their underlings, because you know that totally speaks volumes about someones true character. Talk is cheap. You could be the richest, smartest, most beautiful person in all the land, but if you don't show respect to the people around you - I'm gonna think you're a turd.
So, this journey of bettering myself (for want of a better term) has led me to reading some interesting things. I came across this lovely quote the other night and it fitted perfectly with how I've been feeling.
I realised this is what I'm searching for. This is what I'm trying to reap, sow and cultivate in my own life and I love it. I want to be a conductor of this type of energy - whether you believe it comes from God, or some other source, it doesn't matter.
This also provides direction for 'The Dating Experiment'. To some guys I'm obviously a set of breasts and a hoo-ha, which is not ok. So really, it's great when they out themselves that way inclined, because I can quickly avoid them, and move on.
Imagine my surprise, when over the weekend some really cool guy contacts me via this dating website. I'm talking out of this world calibre of conversation. I don't even know where he lives, but it doesn't matter, because he wants to know about me, he wants to know what I think - he's incredibly interesting, and dare I say, too good to be true? What scares me most of all, that I can write to him as me, carefully selecting and constructing the things I want to say, because I know he appreciates it. I don't know where it will lead, but I hope we continue to write to one another, and maybe, at the very least I'll have a friend in him. It's just so exciting to find one of 'my people'... it's serendipitous.
Being surrounded by assholes, makes the discovery of someone authentic even more sweeter.
Seriously, change is on the menu, as is being a better human. But it's not easy work. Evolution is not easy, despite what the bible says. Dear God, please don't send me to hell for that comment.
At work, I am positively surrounded by self-obsessed assholes - and it takes every bit of my self control some days, not to outwardly mock their tone and narcissistic verbal diarrhoea. You know I'm doing it in my head right, and sometimes it sort of just slips out...
Anyway, being around these kinds of people, aside from shitting me off, also reminds me about the kind of person I don't want to be. Not in a self righteous kind of way, more just in the vein of I don't want to be a jerk. The thing that erks me about these variety of humans, is the way they treat their underlings, because you know that totally speaks volumes about someones true character. Talk is cheap. You could be the richest, smartest, most beautiful person in all the land, but if you don't show respect to the people around you - I'm gonna think you're a turd.
So, this journey of bettering myself (for want of a better term) has led me to reading some interesting things. I came across this lovely quote the other night and it fitted perfectly with how I've been feeling.
"When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them." - Martin Buber
I realised this is what I'm searching for. This is what I'm trying to reap, sow and cultivate in my own life and I love it. I want to be a conductor of this type of energy - whether you believe it comes from God, or some other source, it doesn't matter.
This also provides direction for 'The Dating Experiment'. To some guys I'm obviously a set of breasts and a hoo-ha, which is not ok. So really, it's great when they out themselves that way inclined, because I can quickly avoid them, and move on.
Imagine my surprise, when over the weekend some really cool guy contacts me via this dating website. I'm talking out of this world calibre of conversation. I don't even know where he lives, but it doesn't matter, because he wants to know about me, he wants to know what I think - he's incredibly interesting, and dare I say, too good to be true? What scares me most of all, that I can write to him as me, carefully selecting and constructing the things I want to say, because I know he appreciates it. I don't know where it will lead, but I hope we continue to write to one another, and maybe, at the very least I'll have a friend in him. It's just so exciting to find one of 'my people'... it's serendipitous.
Being surrounded by assholes, makes the discovery of someone authentic even more sweeter.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
secret sickness
They say that you're only as sick as your secrets. I have a
few in my closet - but there is just one making me really unwell right now.
And it is this:
I've never been anybody's girlfriend.
30 years on this Earth, and romantically, on my own that whole
time.
I have literally been waiting my
whole life to find someone to break through.
Try to imagine how much shame I feel just admitting that, and know
I only do this, because here I am StrangeBird. And here I'm free to admit that
I'm a mess, that I'm insecure and completely mortified. I get to leave this computer and this persona behind, but I always carry this secret with me - down the street, at work, around the dinner table, as I lay in the dark trying to get to sleep, and nobody knows how much it's stripping me, of self worth, hope, humor. It's a bit of a joke, except there's no punchline.
And this, this is why online dating is so completely mind-fucking
to me. It was such a big decision to sign up - to think about chatting with people, talking about myself, 'selling' me, meeting up with someone in real life? Not liking them? Or worse, liking them? I have had to confront almost every fear about myself that I possess with this ridiculous ritual.
Some days, I can approach it with curiosity, and sometimes with humor. But lately it just leaves me with an overwhelming sense of shit-ness.
I must be the problem... The almost-meet-up guy is now ignoring me, even after I wrote a vulnerable explanation and apology for being confusing. At first it made me sad and bitter, but now it just kind of shits me off. That even behind the protection of a computer screen, he hasn't got the balls to say the real reason why he lied about being "busy", or the guts to simply say "I don't want to talk to you anymore".
Seriously dude - WHAT. THE. FUCK?
Of course, he would have no idea that I angst-ed over troubling him for almost an entire weekend. That I kicked myself for thinking too much, for panicking and knee-jerking.
Depending upon my level of confidence and ignited-wog-passion - I bounce from feeling violently rejected, angry, all the way to sunny indifference. His loss, right?
I don't know what's so wrong with me? I know I'm not perfect. I'm not terribly pretty, I have curves in the wrong places, a mind-field of internal dialogue and edges. Rough, obtrusive bumps on the exterior of my complicated package. But I know, I know, inside there are parts that are pure gold. But nobody seems to want to scratch beneath the surface to see that.
Is it just a waiting game? Is it timing? Do I just need for the right species of butterfly to flap its wings in the town of Shitsville, at a certain point of planetary alignment? Can I really be such an unusual case, that my time, place, person have to match up just so?
I don't know. I prayed not to be lonely forever, and the next morning on the music lottery of my iPod, Bon Jovi told me it was my life, that it was now or never and then Shania Twain immediately followed by telling me that the thing about love is that there ain't no particular way. (Yes, I have these songs on my iPod... seems to be the post for hideous secrets).
You can listen to a song dozens of times, and never really 'hear' it. Maybe people are the same that way.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
fear & loathing
Life has been 'interesting' lately. After my aforementioned meltdown I gathered some distance from things, and from Google. At this point in the monologue, it might be worthwhile saying that the long weekend helped too.
The journey of this condition is so varied, so complicated. It's as if all the sufferers are snowflakes in a giant blizzard - or perhaps plastic pieces locked in a tacky snow-globe together, but each in the path of their own fall. Alone.
Hmmm... coincidence my Santorini snow-globe fell and smashed the other day? I think not. Alas, I digress.
I have been forced to take one day at a time, because that is all I can manage. I'm learning not to fear the aches, but to respond to them as they come knocking. The most difficult, embarrassing component is what some call 'fibro fog' - which seems to be a blanket term for general mental fuzziness, used to explain poor concentration, memory loss (particularly short term) and word finding difficulties. Word finding is the bane of my existence, particularly on days when I am short on restful sleep - to feel this word, this word I know, dodging and weaving my grasp, so that I am left wordless, open mouthed, mortified... is hideous. I'm not one for talking too much, so I like to think when I do open my mouth my brain might have the courtesy to back me up a little.
I'm trying to keep things under my hat - but in the long run, I'm not sure it's going to work for me. Trying to maintain a full time job, act 'together' when I just really want to fall in a heap on the ground. Still answering the "how are you"'s with not bad thanks when I really want to scream, fucking awful actually. Part of me still has something to prove. That maybe I'm ok, that maybe I'll be different... that maybe I won't have to reveal my dirty little secret to co-workers, so I can avoid 'those' looks, 'those' judgements.
I want to become informed, become strong, be smart and confident enough to say "ok, that's enough for today". But it's hard. My parents know, but I still don't think they fully understand. I'm operating in the shadows, and sneaking rest where I can - but it's not enough. It's not enough, and I don't know how to say it without disappointing others - without disappointing myself.
The journey of this condition is so varied, so complicated. It's as if all the sufferers are snowflakes in a giant blizzard - or perhaps plastic pieces locked in a tacky snow-globe together, but each in the path of their own fall. Alone.
Hmmm... coincidence my Santorini snow-globe fell and smashed the other day? I think not. Alas, I digress.
I have been forced to take one day at a time, because that is all I can manage. I'm learning not to fear the aches, but to respond to them as they come knocking. The most difficult, embarrassing component is what some call 'fibro fog' - which seems to be a blanket term for general mental fuzziness, used to explain poor concentration, memory loss (particularly short term) and word finding difficulties. Word finding is the bane of my existence, particularly on days when I am short on restful sleep - to feel this word, this word I know, dodging and weaving my grasp, so that I am left wordless, open mouthed, mortified... is hideous. I'm not one for talking too much, so I like to think when I do open my mouth my brain might have the courtesy to back me up a little.
I'm trying to keep things under my hat - but in the long run, I'm not sure it's going to work for me. Trying to maintain a full time job, act 'together' when I just really want to fall in a heap on the ground. Still answering the "how are you"'s with not bad thanks when I really want to scream, fucking awful actually. Part of me still has something to prove. That maybe I'm ok, that maybe I'll be different... that maybe I won't have to reveal my dirty little secret to co-workers, so I can avoid 'those' looks, 'those' judgements.
I want to become informed, become strong, be smart and confident enough to say "ok, that's enough for today". But it's hard. My parents know, but I still don't think they fully understand. I'm operating in the shadows, and sneaking rest where I can - but it's not enough. It's not enough, and I don't know how to say it without disappointing others - without disappointing myself.
"Fear is the cheapest room in the house - I would like to see you living in better conditions." - Hafiz
Thursday, November 28, 2013
that funny old feeling..
It's back, that anticipating scratch without an itch, the thick fog of thoughts and fears, maybes and should haves. It's time... to go back to work.
Silly really, at the start of the two weeks everything looks so bright and shiny, waiting to be smudged with your fingerprint - and the best news is that you can, you can do anything, be anything, because you have the time. Time has almost run out, and the mood overcoming me now is definitely the least optimistic of the two.
It's hard to put my finger on it really, but it's the ultimate 'out of body experience' - my body is here, my arms, my legs within my control - oh look! I'm driving... how did I get here again.. but my mind, boy, I don't know where that is. I can't reign it in, can't even hook a single thought, it's all blur and shit.
I found a couple of potential jobs for applying, but discounted one just this night - on the basis of a Facebook stalk... well, partly. Yes, I do believe I am crazy.
I just want out. I want out, out, OUT!
I've been reading a little more than usual lately. Don Miguel Ruiz's "The Four Agreements", gives me four 'rules' to live by:
1) Be impeccable with your word.
2) Don't take anything personally.
3) Don't make assumptions.
4) Always do your best.
They certainly make sense, and I have been trying to keep them in mind. But I know come next week, a few of them are going to be challenging. At my current job, I have lost the desire to do my best, to try hard, because I just can't see the point. I hate that I feel this way. I abhor the reality that I'm not performing 100%.
I also started reading a blogger, turned published author's book on her anxious existence. Turns out it's actually less funny, more anxiety-inducing/alarming for me. *shrugs ironically*
I had a dream last night, I had an amazing idea for a blog post, I even had a clever name for the post, and anecdote to deliver it - I got the pad and pen beside my bed and wrote it down. I was rather perturbed later this morning, when I realised I'd woken up and written this great idea down while still dreaming.
Perhaps this idea was driven by my guilt of not having written in a while, my insecurities about having nothing to say, being unable to find the right words. Or, it might also be to do with seeing this in a local shop earlier this week:
Silly really, at the start of the two weeks everything looks so bright and shiny, waiting to be smudged with your fingerprint - and the best news is that you can, you can do anything, be anything, because you have the time. Time has almost run out, and the mood overcoming me now is definitely the least optimistic of the two.
It's hard to put my finger on it really, but it's the ultimate 'out of body experience' - my body is here, my arms, my legs within my control - oh look! I'm driving... how did I get here again.. but my mind, boy, I don't know where that is. I can't reign it in, can't even hook a single thought, it's all blur and shit.
I found a couple of potential jobs for applying, but discounted one just this night - on the basis of a Facebook stalk... well, partly. Yes, I do believe I am crazy.
I just want out. I want out, out, OUT!
"Close some doors - not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance but simply because they no longer lead somewhere." Paolo CoehloI want to slam that door closed, screw it shut, hang out the front for a while and tell everyone who passes by not to go through it. Then I'll climb out the nearest window. I'm just so fucking miserable at this job.
I've been reading a little more than usual lately. Don Miguel Ruiz's "The Four Agreements", gives me four 'rules' to live by:
1) Be impeccable with your word.
2) Don't take anything personally.
3) Don't make assumptions.
4) Always do your best.
They certainly make sense, and I have been trying to keep them in mind. But I know come next week, a few of them are going to be challenging. At my current job, I have lost the desire to do my best, to try hard, because I just can't see the point. I hate that I feel this way. I abhor the reality that I'm not performing 100%.
I also started reading a blogger, turned published author's book on her anxious existence. Turns out it's actually less funny, more anxiety-inducing/alarming for me. *shrugs ironically*
I had a dream last night, I had an amazing idea for a blog post, I even had a clever name for the post, and anecdote to deliver it - I got the pad and pen beside my bed and wrote it down. I was rather perturbed later this morning, when I realised I'd woken up and written this great idea down while still dreaming.
Perhaps this idea was driven by my guilt of not having written in a while, my insecurities about having nothing to say, being unable to find the right words. Or, it might also be to do with seeing this in a local shop earlier this week:
I want the mug, but know I'd also kind of feel like a fraud using it. A potential pen cup perhaps?
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