So during the joyful time of year I think of these things. And I used to be the one railing about how people can be good, and things could be all rosy-colored. Now I’m the one in the gloom and it seems like everyone else is arguing for humanity. It’s the story of my life.
It’s been a while, and I’m still struggling with my own identity. I know who I’m not. I’m not all the people I try to be like on a daily basis. I’m not the Bloggess (unless she’s having a really weird dream). I’m not even the person I try to be when I try to please someone else. I feel like the kid who’s always picked last, or the know-it-all in the classroom that the teacher doesn’t want to call on. I feel like I’m jumping up and down in the background, my hand in the air, calling out, “ooh, ooh! Pick me! Pick me!” I so desperately want to impress that I lose anything about me that might be impressive. I think I’ve lost my spirit.
But I’m trying to get it back. I’m more than halfway through my NaNoWriMo book. I know, I know, November is almost over, but I can’t seem to find a place to write on weekends, so I only write during weekdays. Thus it takes me 6 weeks to finish. But that’s ok. I’m doing this my way, and I’m still enjoying the ride. No one is looking over my shoulder and yelling, or saying I’m doing it wrong. And it’s getting done. So there.
I also started to run again. I’ve been off the bandwagon for over a year now, and it’s time to get back on. I feel better when I run. So even though it’s a struggle, it’s a struggle I’m willing to make.
I’d like to start to knit again, too. But my first thought it, “Who am I knitting for?” And that’s really not helpful. That’s part of the who-can-I-impress mentality. So I’m just knitting. At best it could be a scarf when I’m done, but it’s me, knitting. And I’m trying to learn a new way of knitting, to make it faster. Of course the new way is slower right now, because it’s new, and thus frustrating. Such is life.
And that’s about it for now. The only major news is that my horrible boss resigned, so a major source of stress has gone. But the sad thing is, I don’t really feel any differently. So was he the reason I was unhappy, or was I? Or is the shock just still too new to register? I guess we’ll see in the coming weeks, though the addition of Christmas stress may mask any good effects that come up.
Thanks for reading and hang in there everyone!
Lately I feel like I’m on some kind of hellish teeter-totter. I read self-help books and see people, like me, who’ve dragged themselves up through adversity: depression, debt, miserable working conditions and found success and happiness. They make it look sooooo easy. The book or the blog makes it seem like just one little change can drastically improve the outcome. And in many cases, that’s true. Sometimes it IS just a tiny change that makes the difference, but more often it takes far more than that. And I fall into the hope that if I make a similar change, my life will drastically improve, too. But too often my case is the one that requires far more work. The problem is the soul-crushing disappointment that follows when the small change doesn’t pan out. It often sucks away all ability and energy to make the grander changes necessary.
Or, the person who makes it through adversity does so because they have a solid support network to help them through it. I don’t have that. My family has never been one to discuss personal problems, and the underlying philosophy is, “Whatever the problem is, suck it up and move on.” In other words, “suffer in silence.” So I’ve learned not to share my personal problems with others and I have a real problem trying to open up, even to the extent that I can’t open up to professionals who’s job it is to listen to my problems. So I don’t have the support system that these other people used to get through their dark times.
So I teeter-totter. I read about these successes and I am filled with hope that I can succeed, too. I so desperately want my life to be happier, to have friends and family I can rely on, to do a job I love and not have to worry about money all the time. But, no matter what I read or what I try to do, it’s never enough. Things don’t work out. And that’s when the teeter-totter sinks. I fall to the earth with a bang, convinced things will never get better. And each time I land I swear I’ll never rise again.
But that’s just not me. I can’t stay down. But I’m scared to rise. I’m scared to hope. I’m scared to fall down again. Because each time I fall, it hurts just a little more. I bounce just a little less. I fear I’m rapidly coming to the point when I won’t be able to rise back up, when bitterness and cynicism take over and I stay stuck on the earth. That’s when I will need someone who can pull me back up. And I don’t think I have it. My husband is often in the same boat as I, and to switch the metaphor, when the boat finally tips I think we’ll just drag each other under. But I have kids and so I will fight and tread water for as long as I can, for their sake. But I fear going under. I fear giving up and becoming just an empty shell. I fear what it will do to them, and even more I fear what it will mean for me. Because I never expected this. I don’t know how to deal with it. And I need someone who can help.
I’m calling time of death. My original intention for this blog has bit the big one. I think I tried to be too much of too many things, all at once. And truth be told, instead of making me happy it made me miserable. I’m not doing the greatest right now. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. I just don’t seem to fit. I look around and the people I see can almost instantly fit into some sort of category, but I don’t. And I don’t think I ever really did. I was a brain and an athlete in school. I liked Dungeons and Dragons and Star Wars, and “Nerdy” things like that, but I never really fit into that category, either. And I know, I know, I shouldn’t try to classify everything into a category because nothing is ever that simple, but I don’t know how else to explain the whole “fitting in” phenomenon. I’m just not enough like anyone else to feel comfortable with them, or for them to feel comfortable around me unless I pretend to be something I’m not.
I’m tired. I need to rethink my direction in life. Maybe I was expecting too much too soon. I’m not sure. I’ll continue to try to post when I feel like I have something important to share. In the meantime it’s National Novel Writing Month and I’m turning my attention to that for now. It seems like when I have a defined task with a clear goal I do well, so that’s what I’m going for: a 50,000 word rough draft by the end of the month. Then maybe I’ll get the nerve up to actually publish, and see where that takes me.
For anyone out there who’s been listening, thanks. Thanks for being here, even if you couldn’t make yourself heard. I’ll continue to be here so check in, but I can’t promise the content will always be uplifting, just honest.
You ever feel like you’re all alone in the world? Or feel so terribly lonely, even though you’re in the middle of a crowded room? Or that no one gets you, even when you’re with friends? I do. Often. And the feeling is coming more frequently.
It doesn’t make sense though, does it? I shouldn’t feel lonely when I’m with people, yet I do. I think it’s because I don’t feel like anyone hears me. Like the song, “Mr. Cellophane,” I often feel like no one even knows I’m there. I try to make my presence felt. I try to contribute to the conversation, but I often feel like I’m intruding, and I don’t know if I’m picking up a real feeling or if it’s all in my head. And it’s not like I can ask.
Maybe I really don’t fit, at least with the people I’m around currently. I have to hope that my “peeps” are out there, and I just have to find them. It’s not so easy these days, though.
Back in school it was easy to meet new people. Like-minded people were everywhere. Or at least it seemed that way. Now the only people I’m around on a consistent basis are my co-workers, and I feel like such an outcast around them. They all have their “cliques,” for lack of a better word, and I just don’t belong.
I don’t know how to make friends, anymore. I know I can pretend, and wiggle into whatever group I want, but I’m tired of pretending. I sometimes feel like I’ve been pretending most of my life to be something I’m not, just so I would be accepted. Or acceptable. But I don’t want to pretend anymore.
I’ve pretended so long I have trouble remembering who I really am. I’m afraid if I keep pretending I’ll do even more damage. But I’m also afraid of being alone. Terribly, awfully, desperately afraid. But if I’m not me, I’ll always BE alone, no matter how many “friends” I have. It’s a terrible conundrum.
Is there anyone out there like me?