I have very nice inlaws. Brian's mom thought it would be fun to take the girls for haircuts and dinner. They got here to pick Dylan up and ended up taking Mason too! So right now I am using my bonus time to lay on the couch and journal a little for you.
I don't know what to write about. I'm too tired to be clever I think. I'm too cranky to write a feel good blog, but too restrained by that "if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all" mantra, to show you the black spot on my soul.
I think I may start an anonymous blog for each of my personalities. Then I wouldn't have to check myself. I wouldn't have to hold back the mental vomit. You know, all my life I have put restrictions on myself. Silly things, inconsequential things I would not allow myself. The biggest yoke would be the one that fits my personality. From deep in my childhood the idea that I am an obnoxious pain in the ass was introduced and reenforced. Its ingrained. And even as I type this with a certain objective sensibility, the painful truth bites at the corner of my eyes. I was not liked, never accepted.
My mom, she might disagree. My father, he might disagree. But 32 years later, the indelible mark of their discontent resides in every fiber of me. I was a very unhappy teenager. If only my unhappiness had not been stifled by Catholic guilt and the fear of total emotional abandonment; if only I had the courage to really lose it then; if only I had invested in a full blown breakdown, I might not be filled with so much damn resentment now.
But, I'm a grown up. I have my own children. And once again, I cannot, will not fully indulge in my melancholy. But I can take steps to realize who I am supposed to be. I can actively pursue myself. I can stop looking for people to like me, to accept me. I can start liking and accepting myself.
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