My tongue is in my hand…

I think I’m having therapy sessions with myself

Posted on: January 22, 2009

I”m frustrated with myself right now. I don’t really like blogging like this, but I think it’s better than not doing anything with it. My journal is in my bedroom, where my husband is sleeping and my handwriting gets sloppy and the words….whatever.

So, I’m frustrated.  I think there’s this one thing that is everything. I don’t know what to do (or what can be done) about it. It just kind of shrouds me. It goes into a lot of places, but I’ve been tracing it for a while, always the problem solver, and I think it’s really all this one thing that I don’t know what to do about it, or if anything can be done. That’s incredibly disheartening. So, I pull at the optimism and it’s lackluster, it’s been defeated quite a bit on this front. It kind of wants to just stop. But I’m not really able to, so…

It’s no help I think too much. An unfortunate amount of people don’t think enough, but really, I think I think too much regarding this. Stupid redundant thoughts, fantastical childish thoughts, self defeating and degrading thoughts, conflicting and paradoxical thoughts. You can think yourself to oblivion.

I just want and I was foolish to think once upon a time as I did that I could conquer this so early on, it just doesn’t work that way? Does it work at all? There’s so much no one will tell until it’s over.

It seems a waste that we all have the same secret pressed deep in the crevices of our souls and still wander, seeking, and stave off loneliness. It is not this thing we carry that separates us, it is everything else. Everything about life, the way we’ve lived it, the way we understand it, the way we view it, that’s what separates us.

I’m not doing well with self management. I don’t care enough about the things I need to manage. I just want to read and write and eat and wait it out, but someone told me that’s not an option and I just don’t want to try for much sometimes, I just want the bare minimum sometimes I just want to let it all go, forget the bills and housework and work work and any family or social obligations and just not do anything that is about anyone else at all on their terms (I would inevitably do things for people on my terms, I’m sure of it).

Sometimes, I feel bored with my life, or maybe just with life. The things that make me feel most alive are the things least conducive to living this life in a way that people would say is responsible or normal. I mean, it’s a different kind of responsible, like existential responsible, like intangible responsible, like no regrets responsible. I don’t want the life I have. And that’s a hard thing to say knowing how the life I have is not at all bad and is enviable just in it’s circumstances, from what I know of other’s circumstances, what they wouldn’t give to have mine!

It’s just, I feel burdened with things I don’t care about. Most weekday mornings I wake up with anxiety. It’s hard to get out of bed. It’s hard to focus. It’s hard to figure out what I’m supposed to do, just normal every day stuff. If I get in gear, I’m good through the day, unless I end up with random downtime. At night, I get frustrated with Jason and Natalie needing things from me. It annoys me to no end. And then I feel bad (particularly with Natalie) I’m trying to limit my obvious annoyances with her for things that she needs to learn are annoying (not listening, asking me a question 10 times when I’ve said I would do it in a minute, etc) and not get annoyed with her for things she as a right to need me or want me to do for her or with her. I don’t want her to feel as if she inconveniences me and withdraw. I think that’s what happened for me as a child. My mom, consumed with her own personal hurts, disappointments, and frustrations and loneliness never directly took things out on us and gave us an idyllic childhood the best she could, but had terrible mood swings and always seemed to be annoyed by any requests or interjections we made on our own terms. I get it, I just don’t want to do that. Would I be more assertive and less of a peacemaker if I felt my needs and requests were validated and would not make waves? Probably. I don’t want to spoil Natalie and set her up for failure this way, but I don’t want to cause her to withdraw because she feels I won’t meet her needs graciously. Was my independent nature fueled by my thoughts that no one was there to help or guide? Yea, I think so. Independent is not bad, nor is peacemaking, but every trait has its pitfall.

I want a house in the woods. A log cabin. With a wraparound porch and a loft. A gravel driveway. A creek nearby. Tall, old trees. A vegetable garden. A clothesline. Blackberry bushes. Honeysuckle vines. Hills. Grass.  Neighbors within walking distance. Close enough to hear an outdoor party but not close enough to care. A sunflower patch. A pumpkin patch. Maybe some roses on a trellis. Or something on a trellis. A homemade birdfeeder.

I’m a little better now. The soft brown chai tea candle I’m burning smells good. The chocolate mousse yogurt I ate was good. My robe is soft and warm. Nights are for resting. It’s okay to sleep. I wish I could leave the house the way it is. But I have to clean up. That pisses me off. But I’m okay. I’m going to put it off a little more now maybe, maybe just a little…no, I would feel better if it were done, it’s really just a normal thing to do, cleaning up a night’s mess. It’s just something people do. It’s inevitable unless I want to be like that Shel Silverstein poem where somebody with a name that rhymes with (or is) Stout “would not take the garbage out” I remember the illustration of the trash all piled up…I like Shel Silverstein. Between him and Dr. Seuss I really got into poetry in elementary school (and ever since), what you could say and do with the words, the plays, the rhymes, the hidden little meanings. Then Shakespeare and Frost and Dickinson. I love poetry. It is one of my safe havens. Sometimes it’s lonely there too. It’s like no body really knows what to do if I let them in there. That’s annoying.

Well, I’m just kind of exhausted now. Good enough reason to stop as any.

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5 Responses to "I think I’m having therapy sessions with myself"

You’re thankful for you life… but you’re far from being in love with it…

yea, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, some of it just feels inauthentic, or something…

Too little adventure and too much imagination in a single person will do that. And fast.

Your house in the woods, and all that you described with it, sound wonderful! I love that you can go there in your imagination. Your authenticity touches me…encourages me.

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