Who am I? I ask myself this a few times a day. I must admit, I am a bit lost. I am ready for great things, but I am impatient. I am fading, trying to constantly stay so optimistic. I want a million things, I want them all at once. How am I past 30 already? Where did the time go? Why am I so behind everyone else in my life? How did I end up swimming up to Lonely Island alone. WHAT HAPPENED? SOMEONE TELL ME! HOW IS THIS MY LIFE?
I am going through the motions on a daily basis. I am getting dressed and doing my eye makeup and trying to hit the gym. I am keeping up with my email, I am texting back the few people I care about, I am listening to my voicemails and I am still hanging in there, just barely, but I am. I am hoping that journaling, what this blog will really be, my journal, will help me sort out some of my noise, my mess, my life.
I have always lived my life for others. I have never listened to the little voice in my head and did what was actually best for me until I walked out, ran really, of a relationship that was sucking everything I liked about myself bone dry. I never traveled the world, I never had an international experience and kissed a foreigner after midnight along some romantic river on a bridge, I never truly fell in love with someone I could marry, I never made a big life mess before 25, I never stopped feigning sophistication, I never disobeyed my parents for real.
I have always wanted to impress, mostly, I have always wanted to make my parents, specifically my mother, proud. I was the little girl screaming, "watch me, Mommy, watch me" from the public pool, while she feigned interest and gossiped with her friends about cheating husbands from her chaise lounge. Why do I care so much about what she thinks? Why do I need her approval? She is crazy, too, I love her more than perhaps anyone in the world, but she is. Her depression scares me almost as much as mine does, so unpredictable.
I have never been an easy person, but I have always wanted people to like me. I needed people to not be able to say mean things about me, I needed people to think I was a good person. Frankly, just recently, I have gotten to the point where I could really care less about what people think about me most of the time, but there are days when I feel 15 again and I can't function. I am fighting a life of being an approval seeker and saying F**K IT ALL! You suck, people I worry about: you are dumb, superficial, barely educated.....WHY DO I CARE?????? I can't explain this. I am a contradiction. I am securely insecure.
I am at a crossroads. You see, if you asked me what was wrong with me a few years ago, I wouldn't have been able to tell you. Perhaps, I would had told you that I was sad because I was single and all of my friends were seriously dating (now they are all married and have children), perhaps I would have told you that I was sick of my old job and that I had a mean coworker who was treated better than me for reasons I still don't understand, perhaps I would have told you that I longed to prove myself by starting my own business and being great at it (I am in the process of doing this and it has been the hardest, but most fulfilling thing I have ever done yet with my life). I woke up one day in the midst of a serious depression (I will get to this in posts to come) and it all clicked. This gaping hole in my soul, this darkness I was trying to fill with a relationship that was so wrong for me for so many reasons....it was never going to be filled with stuff, it was never going to be filled by other people (including a man), I was the only person that could fill my hole (this is a soul hole, so let's not get dirty here people....), I was the only person that could complete my own life.....TERRIFYING SELF-REALIZATION!
I am not sure what my destiny is. I am not sure I want what everyone else has: husband, baby, house, SUV......I am not sure that any of this will actually make me happy, because I have never truly been in love and I struggle with the fact that someone could actually love me, the real me, the way I need to be loved and deserve to be loved. I just admitted something that I really haven't shared with anyone, I mean, do I deserve what I feel like I do? I am a faberge egg, I am fragile, so very fragile, even though I try to act tough.
I feel like I have never really gotten what I deserved and much of this is because I self-sabatouge. I screw myself out of things I should have because my insecurities always creep on in. I never got the guy, or got asked to all the dances, or got accepted into the really good school I could have because I gave up before I could fail, I didn't play the game and then I lost. I got scared of the possibility of failing, so I failed, so I didn't have to play the game. It is weird, I am a late bloomer and all, but I am ready to play the game. I am ready to not go down without a fight. I am ready to cement the hole in my soul and make my life real, something I want to live for, something that will be worth getting out of bed for each and every day.