I feel like writing a list more than I feel like going out–so, yeah.
1. It doesn’t matter what day it is, the cat boxes aren’t going to clean themselves. Yuck.
2. Relatedly, we are capable of creating so many amazing things–inventing a litter scoop that doesn’t let half of the used litter fall through isn’t one of them, apparently.
3. My goals for the coming year include being kinder, being a better friend, being a better advocate (for myself and others), being a better person and just being better than this year. Clearly I have to refine them, but that’s the direction my goals are headed. It’s hard to explain, but I feel like I have a lot of catching up to do in the “better” department. All of my friends are talented and amazing–and I really question whether I can keep up sometimes. I know, I’m being hard on myself. Like that’s something new. Welcome to my brain. It’s hella perfectionistic in here. And I can totally do this.
4. In another post, I had mentioned that my cats have been begging terribly lately–with Sprinx being the worst of the bunch. Tonight, he jumped up on the table as I sat down and didn’t really know how to handle that there was nothing that he wanted to beg for. Everything was vegetarian. He just sat there giving me airplane ears and glaring at my tofu. He is a brat–it was uber funny–but I kind of feel bad that I had nothing to give him. What can I say? I’m a tender heart–or a total sucker–I guess that it depends on the day.
5. It’s no secret that I’m a total movie buff. I absolutely love movies–which is kind of weird because I’m also a huge reader and am almost always disappointed when beloved books are made into movies (spoiler alert–the books are usually way better–duh). But, I have to confess, in addition to the usual heady, talky stuff, I love horror movies (you all knew that) and really stupid, ridiculous, insipid romantic comedies. Although, only under certain circumstances–like on weekend afternoons or late at night. Yeah.
6. In the same vein, despite everything that’s happened in my life, I still believe that actual, romantic love exists and is possible for everyone. Corny, right? I prefer to think of it as also–resilient or hopeful or possibly, delusional. Kidding. It’s definitely not delusional.
7. I really love the word, jejune. And, zesty. Jejune seems like it should mean something entirely different than it does–and zesty sounds so dirty, but isn’t. What’s not to love?
8. This one should not be news to anyone paying attention–I’m not entirely the same person as I was before February 14, 2014. As an adult (in my mid 20s-early 40s), I used to value the illusion safety and security over happiness (it’s very hard to explain how being abused fits, but that’s part of the diseased thinking that comes from long-term abuse). I was afraid of risk. In my personal life, I was subservient and actually felt thankful (in an unhealthy, self-conscious, harmful kind of way) that people wanted me around. I would do just about anything to keep them happy because I didn’t believe that I, alone, was enough. While these aren’t necessarily bad things (to a point), it’s a horrible way to go through life–always feeling like I had to prove my worth and justify my existence. I used to always believe, deep down, that I was just not one of those people who got to choose–I was stuck (mentally) being chosen–waiting for people who weren’t even close to being worthy, to choose me. Ridiculous, right? And yes, all of this is rooted, no doubt, in paternal messages in childhood and extremely destructive romantic relationships throughout my life, but placing blame is beside the point. I was a fucking mess.
Well, that’s changed. Somehow, I started to see myself as others really saw me (as opposed to how I thought that they saw me), and it wasn’t even in the same zip code. I just wish it hadn’t taken so long to get here.
Yeah, I may have gone too far in the opposite direction–I will grudgingly admit that–but I would much rather be fearless and more than a little reckless than be lying in another hospital bed full of regrets. I am a genuinely nice person, but I am not going to be the doormat that I used to be because I know my worth. I’m not just an object that loses my worth as I lose my utility. If you knew me before, you may not like me as much as I am now. But for the first time in a long time, I really, truly don’t care. I love who I am now–and I love being me. xo
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