Been a while since I’ve been on. I am forgiving myself for the DOH! moment. I’ve been really cranky this summer. Emotionally all over. Not surprising. Every time I think I’ve had something figured out, to make life stable, it blows. I am forgiving myself right at the moment for thinking I should have had that all settled and that I shouldn’t be affected.
I need some sort of structure in my life. While trying to build that, in this time of craziness, I’ve posted on FB, not here on my blog.
I’ve gotten myself out of three major jams in the past month. Frustrated that those solutions didn’t pan out into permanent solutions, but hey, I at least got out of the problems I was in. I did a lot of hard, scary things in order to get that done. And for once, I was happy to meet that old part of me that was/is capable of doing that.
I’ve also reconciled some part of me. That fear is something to conquer. And terror, which is not the same thing, is something to be respected. At a distance. It’s okay for me to be terrified of something. It isn’t a weakness. Per se. That’s finally getting through my head that I don’t have to be a rock all the time. It’s okay that some part of me isn’t “neutralized” in numb calmness. I don’t have to repeatedly expose myself to something that terrorizes the internal parts of me in order to “fix it.” If I was merely afraid, then yes. But accepting me means accepting this aspect of terror for what it is and letting it actually exist.
In doing so, I’ve actually let a lot of very subtle, little things happen.
I miss Magoo. A lot. We had a massive blowout, which I will not get into, in March. But, in a many ways, I am glad he is not currently part of my life. Sad that he is not. It’s okay that I feel all of that, even though it doesn’t match or balance. His absence is an ache I sense all around my heart. His presence would be a different one, because of where we can’t bridge a gap, so I am happy we aren’t hurting each other.
I’ve met a few new people.
Including some more crazies. I have no idea where I keep finding these ones. The ones that think I need saving and I must put all my problems on them and change who I am for their needs, and when I call them on it, I am either crazy or a bitch. I’ve let go of two of these people within the past four months. One just this week. Go be your insensitive, unsecure person somewhere else, please. I may understand your issues but it doesn’t mean I am here to fix you or have to stop being myself for your sake.
Part of it is… I’ve had it with whiny people. Who think they know what hard is, until after they talk to me. I’m sorry, not really, but yet, I am, that I just can’t get upset that someone else might need to work 2 jobs to pay the bills, when I was working 8. I feel a slight tremor of compassion for someone’s kid who missed out on walking the stage for graduation this year, but not really, when I think of all the kids who never had that in the first place. Life’s tough. For everyone. And getting upset and twisted and saying it’s hard that that got missed out on, when I missed out of so much of my life, because of my family’s twisted sense of denial, like never having a wedding, or having my ex suck the absolute fun out of buying a new bike for myself by insisting that I take a safety class, or having that same said person deliberately delete one of my manuscripts and play it off like it was nothing.
And, as nasty as that was to say, and as bad as that showed me to be, I don’t feel guilty about any of that the way I used to. I have strength. Sometimes, it’s a brittle strength. When I look back at everything I’ve overcome to get where I am? Shakes head. I have no idea. I know how tired I am. I say it, all the time. But I made it here. Here. Over all that crap. Deliberately being sabotaged by family, by coworkers. I am still capable of love, true compassion, and I’ve published 8 books. Why shouldn’t I love me for me, respect me for me? Not out of ego (although, I must admit that’s there, too,) but I am crippling myself, the way others did by not being secure in what I’ve done, from where I came from.
That terror thing let me admit something to myself. I actually have a crush. Me. Never expected that. Not at my age. Not after everything. An actual tongue-tying crush. Based partially on physical. Never, never, ever, in a million, gajillion years would I have ever said that could happen. It’s a flash in the pan, and I know nothing would ever come of it, but holy cow. I feel silly, happy, and mouth-tied. I’m letting it be. Only told one person who that is. (And it isn’t Magoo, for those of you who are wondering.) Not even fully who. Just a first name. I turned beet red. Wow. I am laughing at myself in embarrassment at the moment. But still… laughing.
I’m still working on my sweater. I have the back, both sleeves, and one front panel done. One more front panel, a pocket, maybe two, and crocheting to cover my knitting foul-ups to go. Still loving the color pattern and I can’t wait until fall when I can wear it.