Because life as I have known it for the past thirty one years is about to change dramatically, and will never be the same ever, ever again.
My perceptions of “importance” are shifting more and more each day, and I wonder if it’s for the better, or worse? 5 years ago
Help is important. Knowing when to ask for it; allowing it; offering it. All valuable things to know, and appreciate.
I don’t understand help. I will often offer it, but rarely ask for it.
I think I need help. No, I know I need help. I think it’s time I found someone to talk to about some past issues that are really negatively affecting the current me. Dragging me down. Holding me back. I know they are negative, but they’ve been around so long, and I fear change the way an old bull fears the abbatoir. These bad habits, these awful ways of treating myself and talking to myself have got to go. I could eat only iceberg lettuce and run a marathon a week, and I really don’t think I’d ever be thin.
I truly believe that my excess weight is a result of long-held beliefs. I created an armour to protect myself. A really sick positive feedback loop: I feel bad about myself, so I eat, because eating makes me feel good. Eating also makes me fat (because who seeks solace in an apple?), and being fat makes me feel bad about myself. So I eat to comfort myself…..and so on and so forth. It’s quite horrifying if I step outside myself and examine it all.
So here I am. Tired of this way of being. Shocked by my appearance (I’ve been avoiding full-body pictures and full-length mirrors for some time now.) It’s time for all this to end.
I deserve better. 5 years ago
I saw a family on the metro on Saturday. The father was holding his son, a toddler. I watched him nuzzle his head, take in his son’s scent, and shower him with kisses.
It was the most beautiful sight I could have ever wished for.
I don’t know why this image makes me feel this way. It always has, for some reason. Children with their mothers don’t cause such a profound “melting” of my heart, the way children with their fathers do. I guess it’s something to do with my own father/men issues. Whatever it is, I’m still bounching on the joy I received from watching a complete stranger share a beautiful moment with his son in plain view. 6 years ago
This is an edited version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s personal creed:
1. Make up your mind to be happy.
2. Make the best of your circumstances.
3. Don’t take yourself too seriously.
4. Don’t let criticism worry you.
5. Be yourself.
6. Stay out of debt.
7. Don’t borrow trouble, imaginary troubles are hard to bear.
8. Don’t hold grudges; avoid people who make you unhappy.
9. Have a variety of interests; go places or read about them.
10. Don’t brood, get over it.
11. Help those less fortunate.
12. Keep busy, a busy person never has time to be unhappy.
My friend sent this to me, and then asked me: “What precepts are guiding you?” 6 years ago
Perhaps I should add another “thing”; that thing would be “learn how to relax.” I have just realised that I have no idea how to do this. I was away for three days at a cottage three hours from here. It was so nice. As I was driving there, I could honestly feel the stress leaving my body; I could feel my shoulders dropping, and the knot in my stomach letting go. While there, I was still in overdrive, but maybe not so erratic…or jumpy. And I didn’t cry. I slept well, for once. And I laughed. Hard. I haven’t done that in a long time. Then, on the trip home, I felt my shoulders creeping up towards my ears again, my stomach starting to turn, my breath becoming more and more shallow and my chest is now officially constricted. I don’t know how to just “be still.”
Part of the problem is I always feel so guilty for not accomplishing more out of my day. I’m lazy. I’m a lazy perfectionist. Two traits that might just qualify me for schizo status, and a nice white jacket with long sleeves and a permanent stay in a padded room.
I have a long list of “things to be done” and I just seem to keep adding more to it! Truth be told, I’ve stopped writing lists because I spend all my time writing the damn list rather than doing things on it.
I’m reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Pray, Love”; an autobiographical story that follows her life for a year following her divorce and a deep depression. I feel a strong connection with her during this time of her life – the feelings she is experiencing, the thought processes all click with me. I can see myself in her. And I want her life. She first moves to Italy for four months, just to learn Italian. Next, to an Ashram in India, and finally to Indonesia. All of this seems to be in pursuit of pleasure, pursuit of the self. How I would love to fly far, far away. 6 years ago