admit what I really want

I was going to write that I’ve recently come to the realization that I don’t care about getting things done, but that would be a lie. I’ve known for a long time that getting things done, achieving things, is boring to me. I just don’t care. I don’t have health goals or career goals. I don’t want to fix any of the world’s problems. I don’t want to produce or publish anything. There are some things I’d like to own and experiences I think are fun, but I tried to make a bucket list and it had two things on it. Marry my sweetie some day and remember that the Divine and I are simultaneous. That’s it.

Beyond that, it’s making enough money to pay the bills so I have time and space for myself and the things I like. I like painting and sex and great conversations and writing poems and dancing and affection and living to the edges of this human I am. That’s probably why I haven’t been here lately. A list of things to do doesn’t interest me. I’m far more interested in how I feel than what I do. It feels good to admit that. I don’t care what my job title is or what car I drive or where I’ve traveled or what movies I’ve seen or how long I can run or how much I’ve written.

I really want to be fully okay with caring about being and not doing in a culture that judges on doing.

to NOT live with my sweetheart. Yep, that’s a direct contradiction of my last entry on this goal. I love the man, but suburbia is deadly to me. Big houses may be deadly to me, too. At least big houses crammed full of STUFF. It’s not an environment where I thrive and I’m not willing to settle for less than thriving.

to live with my sweetheart. Not full-time, because his house is in a location I find boring and depressing and he can’t move for custody reasons. But I want more nights/mornings with him than without him. If my sweetheart can’t make space in his life for us to live together (without his mother being there), I don’t know if I can be happy in our relationship.

What I want is a few weeknights at his place when he has his son and a few weeknights at my place when he doesn’t. His mom stays at his house the weeks he has his son and it feels completely different to be there when she’s there, even though she’s a great lady. I feel like a guest. When it’s just Mr. Yes, Little Yes, and me, it feels like a home. At the very least, I need to know when he plans to “go it alone,” so I can check with my heart and see if I can wait that long. A year or so, when his son is in grade school, sure. Longer than that and I might crumple from loneliness.

I really want a relationship where we share our lives instead of visiting each other’s lives as guests every weekend.

my old false sense of 43T security back so I can tell you all what I really want.

I really want the little html address thing in the bottom left of the screen to stop referencing facebook and twitter when I switch from page to page on here.

I really want to know the next thing will be more satisfying.

I really want what I really want and I don’t see how I can have it and that sucks.

my friend’s greyhound to go into the front room tomorrow without having to be dragged. I’m dogsitting and the girl who was described as a bolter went in and out of the front room with no trouble and was a doll. The boy, who was described as easy, won’t go into the front room for nuthin’ and that’s where they’re penned during the day. Siiiiigh.

At least they were relaxed and happy last night and this morning (until I tried to get the boy into the front room). The boy hasn’t eaten much either. I’m hoping he’ll eat and chill out today and not be so resistant tomorrow. He slept in bed with me last night and seemed okay, then got very anxious when I tried to give them treats in the front room. At least the lucky and sweet girl got three treats out of his trouble!

After I had them in the room, I gave him a treat and petted him. Strange dogs, greyhounds, and these two spend almost all their time with their owner at another location, so they don’t have many regular habits in this location. I really don’t want dogs. Too needy.

to have friends who love their lives and are actively doing what makes them happy, or at least actively searching for it, internally and/or externally.

Looking for an apartment is bringing up all sorts of uncomfortable feelings and after a very revealing dream last night, I realized that I am going to be building (another!) new life for myself and there are people and ideas and attitudes in my current life that will not be welcome. At the same time, I feel it would be cruel or snobby of me to reject those old concepts and attitudes if they’re held by people I’ve known a long time and consider friends.

I’ve also had some revelations about marriage that are breaking my heart. My poor heart – I don’t think it ever gets a chance to scar, with all the growing I insist upon. Those old wounds stay open and while that hurts like hell at times, it’s better than having a small heart.

I really want to know I am worthy of precious things.

to accept and love my this-then-that ways. In July 2008, I wrote this in regards to this goal:

“I really want clarity, without doing any work to sort out my thoughts, dump the rubbish and live the truth. I don’t want to achieve clarity, I want it to be gifted to me, preferably with a haunting piano accompaniment and a celestial golden glow that makes my skin look really good and brings out the highlights in my hair.

Even more than that, I want the courage to admit to myself what I really want, instead of drowning that little voice in chips and candy. I want the courage to risk looking a fool. I want to be brave.”

I still feel that way, though I’ve dumped the chips and candy. My latest desperate urge for clarity came this morning when I was offered a slot in a conference I’m attending this weekend to give my workshop. I resisted answering right away, as my initial response was that it’s damn rude to ask me this late in the game. Then the “you should do this, it’s an opportunity” voice started picking on me. All the while, a calm part of me was gently reminding me that I don’t particularly enjoy giving workshops. I find it a bit boring, except for doing the visualization.

I remembered after I got to work that I had already told the woman who asked me to give the workshop that I wasn’t taking on any more projects in February and March. I made that decision to heal from a major case of burnout and it was a smart move. So I will email her and decline with appreciation for the offer. But the fact remains that people like this workshop, it’s valuable, and I have no desire to ever give it again.

For the umpteenth time, I’m wishing that I liked doing something that other people like me to do. In a way, it’s like publishing the poems. I like writing them. I don’t care about publishing them. I wish that I wanted to, since I keep hearing it would be great for other people.

The other thing I really want is to gain clarity on what I want to do, since I don’t want to give workshops and have lost interest in coaching. Perhaps I want to work admin so I can save my mental and emotional energy for the other parts of my life. I’m going to call on an apartment in Oakland today. Perhaps if I move back there, I can shake this suburban malaise. Or perhaps this is who I am – someone who is interested in learning but not particularly interested in applying that learning to making an income.

to be happy or energized and not worry that I’m manic and be sad or low energy and not worry that I’m depressed. Growing up with a bipolar family member has made me overly aware of emotional extremes and I sometimes forget that my brain chemistry is (thank you!) healthy. It would be nice to relax about my emotional health, which is fairly robust.

but asking for what I really wanted worked out well with Mr. Yes. Very well. Butterflies and shyness well.

I really want my own desk, in my own apartment. I don’t want to write with the laptop on the couch or on my bed or on the dining room table. I miss having a desk and I can’t imagine tackling a new novel without one. Of course, there’s no space for a desk in my room, no space in the house. Forgive me; you’ve heard this before.

I could pay off the car and save faster if I reduced my charitable contributions. That feels odd, but if I lose my remaining shreds of sanity, that doesn’t do anyone any good and I am halfway to losing them all. Maybe I could suspend one charity and slightly reduce another and that would give me an extra $100 a month to set aside as first/last and deposit on an apartment.

Of course, I don’t have my own bed…or any chairs…or any furniture other than a desk and bookcases, a chest and a small table. But I can live without or borrow all that.

Most of all, I want that desk.