Ever since my last entry, I’ve been thinking about my life and how it is reflected in this journal — or NOT, as is more the case. I’ve realized that I *do* have observations to make other than the intimate things that go on between me and my significant others. Yes, for those of you who are new here, there are TWO men in my life and yes it is very complicated and NO I’ll not go into it here.
Anyway, I was driving today, thinking about all of this. I was thinking about my fear of revealing myself and my emotional life and the self loathing that I suffer at various times. Yes, FEAR and LOATHING are still my obsession, but I think I’m figuring out why, so stick with me. I read others’ blogs and I identify so much with all the various levels of this concept that I just *know* it must have a deeper meaning than its face value.
I think that everyone has the fear of being found out. Not for any one thing, but just in general, FOUND OUT. For me, one of my things is my crippling self doubt. Not only do I have *that* to deal with, but I also have the FEAR that I’ll be found out to be a charlatan at ___________ (fill in the blank) so it makes me suffer even more trepidation. See the circle forming? A vicious one, yes.
I sit here, placidly gazing out my back window, watching the squirrels, blue jays and mockingbirds play as I chew my thumbnail and feel the tension in my body as it squeezes my neck and back. This is my current state. It is dichotomous and incongruent, yes, but it is so. I wonder if it shows? Does anyone realize how much I keep pent up in the name of decorum?
I have healers and magicians around me. I know that behaving this way is not good for me or my psyche. I know that I should “let it out” and purge all this hurt that I harbour. The bile and frustration I get out just fine, it’s the hurt that I can’t seem to do anything with. But it goes back to my deep hatred of emotional displays and (my favourite term) histrionics. I find these sorts of things very distasteful and uncomfortable, therefore I shun them. I can’t help but end up pointing the finger of blame to June, my mother. She was very emotionally unavailable to me growing up and she would chastise me for being “too sensitive, just like your father”. So I learned to comport myself and only react when angry. Which, of course, became all the time due to my frustration.
What to do? I do have little crying fits every now and then when I’m all alone and I can be all snotty and red-eyed in peace, but other than that, I really do nothing about the hurtful things that happen to me. I had a hurtful situation just the other day and I *did* tell someone about it, but I’m not sure that I dealt with it all that well. Actually, I think I ended up turning it on myself. Oooo, I guess I’d better start tap-tap-tapping my way to Emotional Freedom with the Emotional Freedom Technique…
I know that thinking good thoughts is good for you. I just have trouble doing it. It feels fake to me. It always has, this positive thinking thing. I try to tell myself things like “you are worthy of a good job” or “you are a fabulous person” but it just falls flat. It’s not that I tell myself I’m an asshole or anything, it’s just that I pick everything apart and I end up feeling inadequate. And those who know me think that I only do that to them. Hardly.
Perhaps this is the root of my ambivalence. Perhaps I’ve become so aware of my own inner dialog that it seems better to never make a decision than to make a crappy one and have to deal with the emotional upset that that would cause inside me.
Perfectionism can really suck sometimes!
Wow, I’ve written a whole page about my inner life. I hope the Peanut Gallery is happy. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Eh, better upload, before I lose my nerve.