Be Ok

Valentine’s Day. For years the very words evoked an eruption of vitriol from me that would rival that of a Vesuvius style explosion. A venomous tirade would usually take written form at some point during the day.

I’ve always hated it. Always.

My usual M.O. is to dress all in black (not unusual anyway, but I made a point of it on this day to counter-act all the pink), smoke my now outlawed clove cigarettes (which were also black), and mutter angrily. I have an array of snarky anti-valentine buttons. It’s an event.  Bitter much? You think?

This year I’ve been feeling ok. I’ve been somewhat enjoying being with myself and accepting that as a thing. That whole idea that I have to be fine by myself first has sunk in and as things have been passing by without any kind of reaction from me, I’ve been thinking perhaps this year would pass without incident. I’ve seen the displays of pink bears and heart-shaped boxes, seen people perusing the flowers, heard the commercials on the radio, displays of television jewelry, and sort of just went “Meh”. Better yet, a few times I’ve sort of thought to myself, “Well, that’s nice”. (What the ?!?!) 

All of that is a good sign…as in, I’m over it. It’s good to be over anger. It’s good to be over bitter. It’s not an attractive quality. The problem is, I’m fooling myself. Well, a little bit…

As the day draws ever nearer, I find myself accepting of my situation, yes. I’m fine being with me. I’m accepting of myself like never before (minus the donuts I ate this morning-what was I thinking?). I’ve even made plans to spend the evening with the only man in my life who I know loves me to pieces, my son. I figured we’d go out somewhere, maybe get ice cream, have some fun. It’s almost his birthday after all and there’s no one I’d rather spend a fun evening with.

Today though, I realized that I’m missing someone. A lot. Realizing that he’s not missing me is probably the worst part of that equation. Oh, I’ll get a damned Valentine card from him because I’m on his card list, but it’ll have nothing to do with me. I know that nothing will come of us and that’s probably for the best, but I miss the small stuff. I miss talking to him. I miss our afternoons chatting about randomness, all the stuff we have in common, ghosts, trips, plans, writing,  joking about stupid stuff, his bad jokes, calling him the weird names that I make up… just all the small things. Talking. I miss talking.

It came to me yesterday that he was the picture window to my fly. I could see no other way but him. There may yet be an open door off to the side, I just can’t see it, because I’m a dumb fly and the window is so bright. I can see outside. It’s got to be the way hasn’t it? You know how it is when something seems like it’s the exact thing you’re looking for and you just keep hitting your head against it over and over again?

Even though I’m over the romance part of it all, the friendship part is a big hole that I’m having a hard time with. Like I said, I miss the talking. Friend-zoned usually indicates a friendship…right? An occasional discussion? A conversation? A how do you do?…but I digress…

Now I’m back to sitting in my office alone with myself like I used to. I have no one calling me anymore, nothing much to look forward to. I know that could change at any moment. Maybe, and Universe forbid, this stupid holiday is making me sentimental and mushy. I figure it’s probably alright to miss people now and again, especially when they were a big part of your life for a while. I suppose that this is all part of the growth part of learning to be alone and blah blah blah and yadda yadda.  I’m just miserable and I didn’t want another miserable Valentine’s Day.

Of course, I’m not really miserable being alone. I’m not angry. I’m not bitter. What’s the problem? I don’t know. I may feel a bit lonely right now, but I have me, I have the boy, and I’ll have half price chocolate the day after. (Yay!) I may even buy myself some discounted flowers. That’s the spirit! Nothing says patheti-sad-single-near-forty like discount post-Valentine’s Day chocolate and flowers except maybe a cart full of Fancy Feast, litter, and Mama Celeste Pizza for One. Still, I’d rather do those things for myself than have someone else getting them last-minute for me from the corner Walgreens the night before. At least I have forethought involved and a thrifty spending plan.

My favorite new lyrics that I keep repeating today, and I woke up singing are no accident I think… “I thought I knew the answer was you, but now I know it’s always me.”  That’s how I know next year will be better than this year and why this year is easier than last year. It’s self-love day. I’m going to get the hang of this.

Day 18: Opinions

Do you worry what people think of you?

Yes and no. Don’t you love a definitive answer?

This used to be the subject that ate me up from the inside the most. My projections of what people were thinking of me would paralyze me. Negative feedback made me miserable for days. In high school, I learned to keep my opinions to myself for fear that they would be twisted and used against me. It all makes sense now, of course, now that I now what’s going on with me. This programming stretches back a long way.

When I was in school, I remember from the first day feeling judged. It was really hard for me to take. Maybe because at home I didn’t feel incredibly safe or valued, I wanted, like most kids, to be accepted and liked but for me, the rejections cut much deeper. I have had a very bad habit of taking absolutely everything personally and every word, sideways look, or awkward tone made me question myself and my worth.

I don’t know where I learned to value everyone else’s opinion over my own, or in fact to not allow myself an opinion. The thought that other kids were saying bad things about me, laughing at me, staring at me, or anything else slightly uncomfortable would make my whole world feel like it was crashing to the ground. As the years passed, it seemed to get worse. Paranoia does come along with this as well. For a while, if I heard anyone laughing, I’d assume it was at me. Some kids were indeed quite cruel to me, and I began to see everyone as dangerous and threatening.

That is all the “yes” part.

The “no” part is starting to come together. Yes, I had a bit of a back slide the other day at the butchers. Since then, I’ve learned that they’re all incredibly cool about it all over there, but the thing is, it doesn’t matter if they are or aren’t. After my initial knee-jerk reaction, I managed to talk myself out of it. It was short and didn’t cause me nearly as much distress as it used to. I’m starting to claw my way back to being myself despite others’ opinions. Everybody has one and they’re usually based on incomplete information. Most of the time it’s based on someone’s personal projections. Nothing at all about me or my worth.

Now, of course, when it’s someone I care about deeply, that changes the story. Of course I care what my loved ones think and when they reject me it carries a certain kind of sting. In the cases where I know where it’s coming from I can take it all with a grain of salt but when I don’t it’s still painful. Rejection always is. I’m still feeling more than a little sting from my last rejection. Actually “sting” is the biggest understatement I’ve ever uttered, but it’s a part of life. Lately I’ve been having to deal head on with rejection and I think it may be for a reason. It will help me find the people who truly value me for me. That’s something that I should care about far more than the opinions of “everybody”.

 

Day 27 – I Heart…

Talk about something that you really, really, really love about yourself.  I hate having to come up with positive things about myself. It’s so uncomfortable, probably because we’re so conditioned to see flaws all the time in ourselves and others. Usually those negatives are physical and I’ve yet to find something about my body I love, except maybe the fact that my eyes can look pretty cool if I wear the right colors. OK, my legs are pretty fabulous, but that’s not the kind of answer I need.

It’s taken a few laps around the building to get my ideas going but I actually came up with more than one. I like my loyalty and my unique aesthetic, my dry humor and my patience. I really like my resilience and my strength which I have depended on a lot lately. Since the question asks what I really, really, really love, I’d better get out of “like-land”. That was a lot of “really”s. I suppose that means I should gather up all of my valley girl enthusiasm and like totally really think about this one.

Self love is something that just keeps coming up to slap me in the face. It’s the one thing I always try to avoid working on and I’m not sure why. Again, discomfort. Have you ever done those exercises where you have to look in the mirror and profess your love to yourself out loud? Well, I always feel weird doing that. I can come up with a thousand flaws in about a millisecond. It takes a lot more effort to flip the coin and that’s a clear sign that I need to take steps to answer this question seriously. In fact, maybe I should make myself answer this question every day and every day require a different answer. Good idea, Renee. Thank You. High Five!

I suppose I like my conversations with myself too which leads me to thinking about the fact that there really is something about myself that I really appreciate and yes, even love. I love my imagination. I love that I can close my eyes and be in a different world where I can make up people, things and circumstances and have them feel real. I love that I can escape into my mind to get away from the million mundane and awful things that can happen on any given day. I love that it’s so vivid and I love the fact that it’s all mine when I want it to be. I love turning tiny images into stories. I love my characters and their style. I love the surprises and the strong plot twists I didn’t see coming. I love that there are no limits and that I can change things whenever I feel a change in myself. I love that I can work things out that way, through images and other people’s stories. I love the cleanliness of it. It’s the sweetest gift I have been blessed with and that maybe I can share.

It has its dark side and it can definitely drive me crazy leading me down dark paths of thought. I definitely can spend too much time there. I can definitely over think things that are probably figments of it. Even with the drawbacks, though, I think I prize it above all other parts of myself.  It doesn’t take crunches at the gym or endless therapy or self-help books to maintain. It just requires that I keep using it which I hope I can until the end of my days. I still sort of wish I had been able to say I really love my butt in these jeans but I can just pretend that too…