Plants First, Fish Next

The original intent of this journal was to chronicle the trials and tribulations of the struggling twenty-something, as I searched for love and happiness in the small city-burb of ManchVegas, NH. Now, I'm thirty-something, I've found love in many forms, happiness in even more, and now the struggle is just... well... life. And finding time to do the million and one things I want to do- including writing.

Monday, November 09, 2009

On Keeping One's Self

Sometimes I wonder where I've gone.

When it's just me, I do what I want. I know my worth. I know I'm loyal and kind and witty and inapropriate and thoroughly depricating to my friend's enemies. I have my life and I live it with gusto. I spend inordanite amounts of time with friends and family, with time leftover to keep my house clean and my fridge stocked with yummy homemades. I go to the gym, or not, but I can still own a room. I walk through the world knowing, loving, and owning myself.

When I'm with someone, I see myself "through their eyes," and in my twisted stupid girl mind, that means I see the worst of myself. My loyalty, kindness, and willingness to sacrifice my own time and needs for the ones I love makes me needy, clingy, and weak. The ability to have my own life with family and friends makes me distant and unapproachable. Spending time at home alone becomes time for sad girl chores. Going to the gym is a desperate attempt to stay thin and pretty, and rooms suddenly own me. I waft through the world, no longer knowing myself.

This is my fault. I certainly hope this is not how anyone I'm with perceives me. I blame my "stupid girl." You know, the one that sits inside your brain and calculates how much thinner that girl is than you, or tells you not to even bother going to the gym since no one will love you no matter how skinny you are. This is not new. This is baggage at its ugliest.

Of course all of this was prompted by a discussion with My Runner. Poor guy is sorta the receptical for this portion of baggage. Not that he didn't bring any luggage to the flight, but I certainly packed my own suitcase of issues.

Also, when I say, "discussion," I mean "gchat." Because we're both on it all day long at work. Gchat is like nuclear power - awesome and either really great or really horrible depending on how you use it. "With great power must come great responsibility." Thanks, Uncle Ben. You were so right. Anyways, we were talking about scaring each other off, (see, folks? baggage on both sides), and I mention that I'm worried I'll scare him off my asking for too much of his time. To which he replies that he thinks we spend a lot of time together. Warning signals are flashing in my brain - do NOT go on. But stupid girl brain takes over. Oh sure, we do spend a lot of time together. But that doesn't mean I don't *want* more. ::sigh:: good job, stupid girl brain. I'm pretty sure my next line was something about liking cheese and ooh shiny distraction, but it was too late.

We actually DO spend a good amount of time together. 2-3 days a week. That's really a lot. I don't spend that amount of time with anyone else. Sometimes Face or Pocket or Smarty (well, not now that she's in another state), but that's pretty much it. And recently I certainly haven't been spending that much time with the girls. I've given priority to My Runner. Why?

Well, certainly I like spending time with him. He's cute and funny and charming. He's depreciating to his and his friends enemies. He's beautiful to watch when he's running or playing sports, and he can own a room. We're often actually *doing* things, rather than sitting around watching tv or movies. But I think there's also that part of me... that twisted girl mind... that tells me to be I *need* to be present with him to make sure he hasn't run away. That makes me see the innocent questions I ask/statements I make as mind-fucks, and then makes me backpedal and explain to the point that those innocent questions appear to actually be mind-fucks.

I dont' want to be needy. Or clingy. I want to be me. I want to feel the way I feel when I walk into a room and decide whether I'll own it or share it. I want to be ok - REALLY OK, not just, "well, ok," with doing other things. I don't want to need his approval or attention to find my self worth. I don't want to be constantly thinking of him when I'm with my family or friends and he's not.

This is a conscious decision I have to make. I know I make it when I'm single: I will love me. When I'm with someone that I want to spend more than a small amount of time with, it's like all my energy goes to them. I need to keep some for me. Maybe more than some. For one thing, it's only healthy. All the doctors and psychological authorities and Cosmo say so. Ok, but for serious, if any of my girlfriends were acting the way I am and saying the things I am, I would tell her that she's got to spend more time and love on her. For two things, if HE started acting the way I am acting, I'd be like, who the hell are you? And for third thing, he was attracted to me when I was that girl who owned the room. The one who did lots of things with lots of people and who was loyal and kind and witty and inapropriate and thoroughly depricating to my friend's enemies. Not sad bastard girl who wastes away in her tower when her prince isn't there.

God I don't like that girl. I don't want to be that girl. Friends, how can you stand that girl? Well, before you even answer that question, thanks for standing that girl. I promise, I'm trying to make it better. There's a balance, and I'll find it. Because I can be loyal and kind and witty and inapropriate and thoroughly depricating to my friend's enemies AND in a relationship.

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