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Wednesday, September 28, 2005

"just me"

I semi-impulsively deleted my old blog a while ago. It was important, I needed to, I don't like to dwell on the past, and I guess I felt like I'd changed in many ways and didn't want all that old baggage hanging over me every time someone clicked through. It's still there, cached, for now, for those who care, though hopefully there aren't many of you. I'm so all about the here and now, I can't live in the past. But sometimes snippets come back to haunt me, and I may repost some of those once in a while. Here's one from January 27, 2005:

In the wee hours of the morning, when I seem to awaken randomly, as I was then drifting off into a little daydream about going on a date, in my little fantasy I was dressed up and had my little purse and the person was like "what? no bags?" and I was like "no, just me." and those two little words, "just me," kindof sparked something that I probably knew deep down but didn't really fully internalize till that moment. It's one of those revelations that happen at odd moments for those of us not in therapy. I think part of why I have so much stuff all the time, whether cupcakes or candy or books or gifts or gossip, is that I'm afraid that if I don't have something else to offer up than just myself, people won't like me, and that is if not my biggest fear, close to it. I always worry that people won't/don't like me and want to entertain/feed/take care of them, and it's a tricky thing because often I don't really leave room to take care of myself. But it's more that core doubt that me, alone, "just me" is not good enough and never will be. And when I used to drink a lot, it was okay becaues I felt buoyed by the safety net of alcohol, so I didn't care as much if people didn't like me, and felt extra smarty/witty/pretty/cool with the flush of drinking. So yeah, "just me" = scary as hell. Clearing out my bags, my room, my head, clearing, unearthing, paring down, is taking away my security blanket and I don't really know how to act without that. With being quiet and calm and not racing a mile a minute to tell people things and give people things. And I know there are so many awesome people who love and care about me, for me, and they keep me going, because I know it's not about what I can do for them, or how I look or what I write, but just me. It's not always easy to believe in that myself though. I'm not gonna rush myself though; it'll be a while till you see me on a daily basis with just one small bag. Even longer before you see me without diet coke. But it was just this really quick fragment that packed a lot of punch.

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