I don't mean the kind of waffles that can be burned. I mean the verb 'to waffle' or to remain indecisive.
Obviously, the first flaw of my title is that everyone is indecisive. Being abroad has given me a new perspective on myself and how I function; this is excellent news for personal growth, and a bit disquieting for personal security. I'm changing and I'm not sure I can handle it.
Recently, I've been doing some thinking about what I want, what I like, and what makes me happy. School, which for a long time was the main constant in my life, no longer excites or enthralls me. I enjoy attending lectures and absorbing new information, but I have less inclination to do assignments and assessments than ever before.
It's annoying, really, to feel mildly guilty about being a slacker while doing other things that are more fulfilling, like cooking, cleaning (yes, I'm weird) and talking to people. I can't decide if this is my life balancing itself out, or if I'm losing it.
I don't really feel like I'm losing it. I'm happier than I can remember being (waffling aside; maybe that should be my constant. I can't accept stability and contentment without wondering what I'm not doing). I'm sleeping better, eating better, and generally feeling better. I look ahead to the future with anticipatory joy. So why the feelings of mid-education-life crisis?
God only knows. Really. I have a few guesses, a few theories, none of which are coherent enough to be aired in public. Part of my growing-up experience is trying not to judge myself (and others) quite as harshly as I used to. It's working, but with the disadvantage of leaving me without a means of measuring myself. Even unhealthy habits are reassuring; losing them, or changing them, is unsettling.
I don't like to think that I'm prone to giving up. I've seen what I can manage when I stick to my guns. I've also felt regret for missed opportunities. I save those for when I feel pitiful and abused. A good pity-fest usually disgusts me enough to negate those regrets.
Now I've lost my train of thought. Oh, yes, waffling. My boyfriend likes to say that I always have a choice, and in a technical sense, he's right. I could decide not to finish my education and just go ahead and find a job. But, I was raised in a society and a household that value education as security for the future. I don't want to be dependent on anyone, and I do want to be able to have fun without counting every penny. Education gives me options. Every girl needs options.
Ugh. Maybe I have too many options. (Isn't that counter to what I was just saying? Nevermind.)
I guess what feels like waffling is in fact, me growing up. I'm weighing personal happiness and instant gratification against immediate Ehhh-feelings and long-term security. I'm all about security, though less so than I once was. And now I'm also about personal happiness.
There isn't any reason why the two can't be mutually inclusive. Obviously, part of being happy is being secure, and for someone like me, being secure makes me very happy.
Maybe waffling is a good thing; it encourages self-reflection, and that's always a good thing. I like knowing myself better. I like being predictable (only to myself, though. Mystery is an excellent trait to cultivate).
I know what will make me happy in the short-term: finishing this silly history assignment (700 words? Pfff I could write that in my sleep) and some lunch.
Cheers!
WolfGrrl
Showing posts with label introspection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label introspection. Show all posts
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Monday, November 5, 2012
November Thoughts
There is something in my mind today, rather as there is a taste of winter in the air when I open the window. My dreams were anxious despite what I would describe as a relatively peaceful setting. As I called my boyfriend for our early morning/late night Skype date, my roommate roused herself and left to make an anxious doctor's appointment. My thoughts are on her now, as I sit and write this post in our empty room. I hope your mother isn't driving you insane, sweetie. But she can't help it, you know that. Mothers are...another breed entirely.
It's a funny old world.
Not long now before my boyfriend joins me here; I miss him every day, the kind of ache like an old bruise that you accustom yourself to feeling. It's new for me, finding solace in others. I've always been, for better or for worse, a singular person. How incredibly strange and different it is to ask for - to actively solicit - affection. Help. Love.
I am better with words. I can write reams and reams of words where I hesitate to make a gesture. But I've learned something, in this funny old world. Making gestures gives me more satisfaction that I ever thought it would. I find a deep, humming peace in wrapping my mother or best friend in a hug. I desperately want to be able to put my head on my boyfriend's shoulder.
Don't get me wrong, words are still important to me. But they aren't as cheap as they used to be. When I leave a comment on another's art memorial, I feel the comment. I think I'm beginning to see that gestures and words aren't opposites, as I always assumed, but rather aspects of a greater whole. Ha, that sounds so pretentious. What I mean is, gestures deepen the words on a page. Knowing what a hug feels like adds depth to reading a description of one. Understanding longing and desire makes sympathizing with desirous characters easier.
Time is moving so slowly this morning. We changed our clocks yesterday, much later than we have in the past. I have ten minutes before I need to leave for class, but I woke this morning panicked that I'd missed my roommate's wedding and my class.
I wish I could remember these peaceful, quiet days of introspection when I'm feeling scattered and afraid. Now there's a useful skill. But I am only human, bound to make mistakes, to judge, and to turn my face away.
Oh, one more thing. I have chocolate chip cookies for all my friends.
WolfGrrl
It's a funny old world.
Not long now before my boyfriend joins me here; I miss him every day, the kind of ache like an old bruise that you accustom yourself to feeling. It's new for me, finding solace in others. I've always been, for better or for worse, a singular person. How incredibly strange and different it is to ask for - to actively solicit - affection. Help. Love.
I am better with words. I can write reams and reams of words where I hesitate to make a gesture. But I've learned something, in this funny old world. Making gestures gives me more satisfaction that I ever thought it would. I find a deep, humming peace in wrapping my mother or best friend in a hug. I desperately want to be able to put my head on my boyfriend's shoulder.
Don't get me wrong, words are still important to me. But they aren't as cheap as they used to be. When I leave a comment on another's art memorial, I feel the comment. I think I'm beginning to see that gestures and words aren't opposites, as I always assumed, but rather aspects of a greater whole. Ha, that sounds so pretentious. What I mean is, gestures deepen the words on a page. Knowing what a hug feels like adds depth to reading a description of one. Understanding longing and desire makes sympathizing with desirous characters easier.
Time is moving so slowly this morning. We changed our clocks yesterday, much later than we have in the past. I have ten minutes before I need to leave for class, but I woke this morning panicked that I'd missed my roommate's wedding and my class.
I wish I could remember these peaceful, quiet days of introspection when I'm feeling scattered and afraid. Now there's a useful skill. But I am only human, bound to make mistakes, to judge, and to turn my face away.
Oh, one more thing. I have chocolate chip cookies for all my friends.
WolfGrrl
Thursday, May 17, 2012
The Great Balancing Act
Life for me is all about choices.
A friend once told me that there are some things you do just so that you can look back on them and say you regretted doing it. I didn't really understand what he meant at the time.
All my life I have made the choice not to act. In any way - healthy, unhealthy, for personal happiness or universal happiness. I just chose not to choose, and so remove myself (as much as it can be done) from the world. But adults don't function this way. And I've found, to my astonishment, that I no longer want to be a child. I have passed, somewhere in the last six months, that subtle marker of adulthood. I have begun, at last, to make choices and take responsibility for myself.
Thus, the balancing act.
It is hard for all of us - me and my parents - to go through this process. I'm sure I'll make a regretable choice somewhere down the line, and have a story, as my friend said. Personally, I am a pleaser: I derive great satisfaction from making others happy. It's only recently (very recently) that I derive pleasure from making myself happy too.
I have a choice to make. It is not the end of the world, but it is a significant choice. I want to make the correct choice...for me, for my family, and for my friends. I want to make the "perfect" choice.
Reader, I'm sure you know by now that there's no such thing as perfection. If perfection is unattainable, perhaps I should seek pleasure instead, and make the choice that pleases. But who should I please? Myself? My parents? My friends? Society? Here, then, is the balancing act of life.
For this choice I must balance the drive for perfection with the drive for pleasure. I believe in and accept the whims of Fate; that doesn't mean I can't help Fate out a bit. The best laid plans are those which are strong enough to support change. In making my choice I must account for all the What-Ifs as well as the sunny sides. That is another balancing act.
My job is to balance all of these things - perfection, pleasure, and Fate - and make choices. Above all, I must choose. I choose to live; I chose to live a while ago, but it is something that must be reaffirmed every day. Living is more than eating and sleeping and breathing. Living is being happy. Living is being miserable. Living is being engaged with the world and those who populate it.
Living is a balancing act.
WolfGrrl
A friend once told me that there are some things you do just so that you can look back on them and say you regretted doing it. I didn't really understand what he meant at the time.
All my life I have made the choice not to act. In any way - healthy, unhealthy, for personal happiness or universal happiness. I just chose not to choose, and so remove myself (as much as it can be done) from the world. But adults don't function this way. And I've found, to my astonishment, that I no longer want to be a child. I have passed, somewhere in the last six months, that subtle marker of adulthood. I have begun, at last, to make choices and take responsibility for myself.
Thus, the balancing act.
It is hard for all of us - me and my parents - to go through this process. I'm sure I'll make a regretable choice somewhere down the line, and have a story, as my friend said. Personally, I am a pleaser: I derive great satisfaction from making others happy. It's only recently (very recently) that I derive pleasure from making myself happy too.
I have a choice to make. It is not the end of the world, but it is a significant choice. I want to make the correct choice...for me, for my family, and for my friends. I want to make the "perfect" choice.
Reader, I'm sure you know by now that there's no such thing as perfection. If perfection is unattainable, perhaps I should seek pleasure instead, and make the choice that pleases. But who should I please? Myself? My parents? My friends? Society? Here, then, is the balancing act of life.
For this choice I must balance the drive for perfection with the drive for pleasure. I believe in and accept the whims of Fate; that doesn't mean I can't help Fate out a bit. The best laid plans are those which are strong enough to support change. In making my choice I must account for all the What-Ifs as well as the sunny sides. That is another balancing act.
My job is to balance all of these things - perfection, pleasure, and Fate - and make choices. Above all, I must choose. I choose to live; I chose to live a while ago, but it is something that must be reaffirmed every day. Living is more than eating and sleeping and breathing. Living is being happy. Living is being miserable. Living is being engaged with the world and those who populate it.
Living is a balancing act.
WolfGrrl
Friday, May 11, 2012
In the Closet
The metaphor of monsters in the closet has been used many times before. But not by me. I don't acknowledge the monsters I consign to the shadows. I don't want to face them, on their terms or mine. I live according to a principle of "Live and Let Live." As in, I let the monsters have at me sometimes, but I keep them at bay otherwise.
Sometimes, however, my monsters leap out at me, wanting more than a brief moment of awareness. They take control. They frighten me. They challenge me. Sometimes I frighten me, or I challenge me. Sometimes I speak truths that have lain hidden for my entire life. And sometimes I swallow lies I've told thousands of times before.
I am my own worst enemy - I've heard this said, and thought this, for years. I make my own path difficult. I make my own life difficult. Not always with the obvious intention of doing so, but with the obvious result. My anorexia was like this. My relationships have usually been like this. It has taken me a long, long time, and a lot of pain, to get to a place where I can let the monsters take control sometimes and open the door to the closet.
In my anthropology class fall semester, we watched a movie called "Trapped in the Closet." It's actually a long rap performed as a film, written and posted on YouTube. I'd never heard of it; the only time I heard metaphors about closets was in the Disney movie Monsters Inc. and references to gay rights. I don't even like rap music.
But this rapper made some valid points - the fact that I remember the movie speaks to that end. I am a private person who likes control: it makes me feel safe, as though I have some ability to predict my future. Though I am no longer consumed by the need to know my future, I do like having the means to influence it, to change it as I wish. There are some things in life, however, which happen. You know this - I've mentioned it before. Choices appear, moments arrive, and there isn't time to waffle around and weigh the pros and cons of each side.
Sometimes the monster jumps out of the closet.
It terrifies me to have this happen...but it's also exhilarating. Freeing. My greatest decisions have been ones which I don't think about, moments where I just jumped and looked on the way down. The monster broke out and I didn't try to stop it. These are moments of What-If. These are moments, oddly enough, of self-respect.
I respect my subconscious mind - the closet where the monsters live. My best choices have come from my subconscious; my best grades; my best friendships. I will never be comfortable throwing open the closet and letting the world look at the mess inside me. But one or two people may see the darkness in my heart. I don't know if those people are lucky or cursed; I'm sure they don't know either. They are special, however. I don't think anyone will disagree with that.
Night,
WolfGrrl
Sometimes, however, my monsters leap out at me, wanting more than a brief moment of awareness. They take control. They frighten me. They challenge me. Sometimes I frighten me, or I challenge me. Sometimes I speak truths that have lain hidden for my entire life. And sometimes I swallow lies I've told thousands of times before.
I am my own worst enemy - I've heard this said, and thought this, for years. I make my own path difficult. I make my own life difficult. Not always with the obvious intention of doing so, but with the obvious result. My anorexia was like this. My relationships have usually been like this. It has taken me a long, long time, and a lot of pain, to get to a place where I can let the monsters take control sometimes and open the door to the closet.
In my anthropology class fall semester, we watched a movie called "Trapped in the Closet." It's actually a long rap performed as a film, written and posted on YouTube. I'd never heard of it; the only time I heard metaphors about closets was in the Disney movie Monsters Inc. and references to gay rights. I don't even like rap music.
But this rapper made some valid points - the fact that I remember the movie speaks to that end. I am a private person who likes control: it makes me feel safe, as though I have some ability to predict my future. Though I am no longer consumed by the need to know my future, I do like having the means to influence it, to change it as I wish. There are some things in life, however, which happen. You know this - I've mentioned it before. Choices appear, moments arrive, and there isn't time to waffle around and weigh the pros and cons of each side.
Sometimes the monster jumps out of the closet.
It terrifies me to have this happen...but it's also exhilarating. Freeing. My greatest decisions have been ones which I don't think about, moments where I just jumped and looked on the way down. The monster broke out and I didn't try to stop it. These are moments of What-If. These are moments, oddly enough, of self-respect.
I respect my subconscious mind - the closet where the monsters live. My best choices have come from my subconscious; my best grades; my best friendships. I will never be comfortable throwing open the closet and letting the world look at the mess inside me. But one or two people may see the darkness in my heart. I don't know if those people are lucky or cursed; I'm sure they don't know either. They are special, however. I don't think anyone will disagree with that.
Night,
WolfGrrl
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
WIP
Humanity is such a work in progress.
I live in what was once considered the most advanced nation in the world. No longer, folks. No longer. We have become a nation of petty, cheating, lying, scandel-mongering, closed-minded fools.
Love does not conform. The greatest love stories of all time - the ones which touch the hearts of millions and have endured for centuries - are those which cross boundaries. Romeo and Juliet were forbidden to love. Helen and Paris. Rose and Jack. The kind of love which is professed by God for all His children - yes, screaming religious fanatics, all His children - is the kind of love that transcends boundaries. It is not the place of humankind to determine what is 'natural' and what is 'unnatural.' If that were so, religious fantatics would be covered in vomit-and-orange scales. They would also live in a pit full of sand, salt, and fleas and be watered with vinegar and Antifreeze.
Love does not choose when and where it shall bloom. Love is a matter of the heart and soul, not the mind, not the body. Love is waking up to see someone; love is thinking, even for a moment, of another person. Love is courage and strength and happiness. Trust me on this.
So why, then, should a nation be responsible for saying who can love and who cannot? What grounds have we as humans to determine this for others? What if someone came to your door, right now, and told you that your boyfriend, girlfriend, mother, father, had to leave? You would fight. You would rage. You would scream and cry and carry on like hell.
At first I was angry that my state took away its citizens' right to choose whom to love. Now I am sad. Sad and...regretful. This world here, this small corner of misguided humanity, doesn't deserve my anger. It doesn't deserve my presence, either. I will follow the precepts of a religion I don't believe in: I will turn the other cheek. I will go away.
This is not the world I want to live in. Love is precious to me; I won't force others to give up what I have only recently come to understand. I tried to do the right thing. I failed, but I tried. This isn't my fault. I'm not sure there is a fault. Right and Wrong...I'm not sure they exist. Moral absolutes only cause problems. Love isn't absolute. Life isn't absolute. We can all die; that's absolute. Maybe we should. Maybe the Apocalypse is meant to wipe the Earth clean of prejudice and hatred and blindness. Out of chaos, we will be born again.
WolfGrrl
I live in what was once considered the most advanced nation in the world. No longer, folks. No longer. We have become a nation of petty, cheating, lying, scandel-mongering, closed-minded fools.
Love does not conform. The greatest love stories of all time - the ones which touch the hearts of millions and have endured for centuries - are those which cross boundaries. Romeo and Juliet were forbidden to love. Helen and Paris. Rose and Jack. The kind of love which is professed by God for all His children - yes, screaming religious fanatics, all His children - is the kind of love that transcends boundaries. It is not the place of humankind to determine what is 'natural' and what is 'unnatural.' If that were so, religious fantatics would be covered in vomit-and-orange scales. They would also live in a pit full of sand, salt, and fleas and be watered with vinegar and Antifreeze.
Love does not choose when and where it shall bloom. Love is a matter of the heart and soul, not the mind, not the body. Love is waking up to see someone; love is thinking, even for a moment, of another person. Love is courage and strength and happiness. Trust me on this.
So why, then, should a nation be responsible for saying who can love and who cannot? What grounds have we as humans to determine this for others? What if someone came to your door, right now, and told you that your boyfriend, girlfriend, mother, father, had to leave? You would fight. You would rage. You would scream and cry and carry on like hell.
At first I was angry that my state took away its citizens' right to choose whom to love. Now I am sad. Sad and...regretful. This world here, this small corner of misguided humanity, doesn't deserve my anger. It doesn't deserve my presence, either. I will follow the precepts of a religion I don't believe in: I will turn the other cheek. I will go away.
This is not the world I want to live in. Love is precious to me; I won't force others to give up what I have only recently come to understand. I tried to do the right thing. I failed, but I tried. This isn't my fault. I'm not sure there is a fault. Right and Wrong...I'm not sure they exist. Moral absolutes only cause problems. Love isn't absolute. Life isn't absolute. We can all die; that's absolute. Maybe we should. Maybe the Apocalypse is meant to wipe the Earth clean of prejudice and hatred and blindness. Out of chaos, we will be born again.
WolfGrrl
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Waiting
I am not usually an impatient person. But sitting in a waiting room - for anything, whether it's something I want to happen or something I dread - brings out my worst tendencies. I am a person who doesn't like to be kept in suspense. For any reason, good or bad.
Right now I'm parked in a very sketchy room somewhere on campus, trying to keep myself entertained. Thus - blog. Let me rant about how much I dislike sitting in a chair too tall for me, so that my feet dangle (even in heels) and fall asleep, instead of focusing on how many butterflies are crawling down my throat into my stomach. Ugh.
I am doing something for a friend. Doing the best that I can, and I hope that counts for something, karma-wise. I know I haven't brought a seraphic attitude to the proceedings today, but I am aggravated. I feel as though several individuals involved took advantage of me and left me reeling from too little (or completely wrong) information. I don't mind offering my help, but I prefer to do so on my terms, and most definitely not under any kind of compulsion. I barely know these people. I owe them basic decency and cooperation, but they have, in some instances, asked far beyond the bounds of acquaintanceship. (Gripe, gripe, gripe.)
Maybe I'll delete this post once I reach the end. Who knows? I can feel my headache coming back, which makes me annoyed with myself. WolfGrrl, remember your maturity. Breathe. Just breathe. I am thinking of something else, something pleasant. White shores, blue skies. Cool breezes. Sunbeams. Shoes. Dogs and cats. Hell, I'll settle for thinking about food, although my stomach is complaining and upset.
Life often involves waiting, and if decisions present themselves at the moment of their choosing, not mine, I can't expect waiting to be any different. I need to learn to wait, not just when I want to, but when I need to. I can tell the same story four hundred, five hundred times to the same engaged little girl. I can read "Give a Mouse a Cookie" thirty-four times in one afternoon. I can climb stairs over and over; I can wash dishes over and over. I can wait. I have been waiting my whole life.
How can you be impatient and patient at once? What is the qualifier of patience? Some days I can stand in line for hours; other days, I can barely tolerate a minute.
Hopefully this post is not too intolerable. Pardon my rant - I am cranky and trying to suppress it. That never seems to go well, but I'm not feeling big enough at the moment to let go of my petty grievances. If I did, I'd have to confront how scared I am.
WolfGrrl
Right now I'm parked in a very sketchy room somewhere on campus, trying to keep myself entertained. Thus - blog. Let me rant about how much I dislike sitting in a chair too tall for me, so that my feet dangle (even in heels) and fall asleep, instead of focusing on how many butterflies are crawling down my throat into my stomach. Ugh.
I am doing something for a friend. Doing the best that I can, and I hope that counts for something, karma-wise. I know I haven't brought a seraphic attitude to the proceedings today, but I am aggravated. I feel as though several individuals involved took advantage of me and left me reeling from too little (or completely wrong) information. I don't mind offering my help, but I prefer to do so on my terms, and most definitely not under any kind of compulsion. I barely know these people. I owe them basic decency and cooperation, but they have, in some instances, asked far beyond the bounds of acquaintanceship. (Gripe, gripe, gripe.)
Maybe I'll delete this post once I reach the end. Who knows? I can feel my headache coming back, which makes me annoyed with myself. WolfGrrl, remember your maturity. Breathe. Just breathe. I am thinking of something else, something pleasant. White shores, blue skies. Cool breezes. Sunbeams. Shoes. Dogs and cats. Hell, I'll settle for thinking about food, although my stomach is complaining and upset.
Life often involves waiting, and if decisions present themselves at the moment of their choosing, not mine, I can't expect waiting to be any different. I need to learn to wait, not just when I want to, but when I need to. I can tell the same story four hundred, five hundred times to the same engaged little girl. I can read "Give a Mouse a Cookie" thirty-four times in one afternoon. I can climb stairs over and over; I can wash dishes over and over. I can wait. I have been waiting my whole life.
How can you be impatient and patient at once? What is the qualifier of patience? Some days I can stand in line for hours; other days, I can barely tolerate a minute.
Hopefully this post is not too intolerable. Pardon my rant - I am cranky and trying to suppress it. That never seems to go well, but I'm not feeling big enough at the moment to let go of my petty grievances. If I did, I'd have to confront how scared I am.
WolfGrrl
Thursday, January 12, 2012
The Land of Decisions
I suppose I should announce here that I wasn't able to spell 'decision' until about two years ago. Pitiful, yes, for someone who uses it as often as I do. But then again, there are many words I use on a regular basis which I have neither the ability to pronounce nor spell. As Alcott said: "She has read too much, and it has addled her brain."
The point of this post, I suppose, is to apologize for my extreme tardiness in keeping up with this blog. Last semester I made the choice to focus on my relationships (since it seems I can only do one thing with any degree of success), and in that field I was very successful. Now, however, I have made the choice to prioritize my classes (and my mental health) first, and my long-suffering boyfriend and other friends are feeling the pinch.
I am an all-or-nothing kind of person. I don't view this as a bad thing, but it does frustrate me sometimes when others demand I be more than I am. As I never cease having to inform people, I came to college to learn, not to have a social life. A social life is important, don't get me wrong, but it's not the main reason I am here, learning German and trying to find a writing mentor, turtoring others in essay writing and planning my trip abroad next spring. I am not a person who places much value on interpersonal relationships. I need them (otherwise, it's the Land of Insanity for me) but relationships are, in my view, more work than reward.
I wish I knew how to describe it so you can understand, reader. I am willing to give 200% of myself to whatever I have prioritized; when this is a relationship, I am a conscientious and constant friend. But I can't maintain such a high level of involvement without feeling the strain; being constantly on is exhausting and damaging for me. I have no filters that prevent me from burnout, which is why I risk being alone and isolated. I love my boyfriend, and to date he's one of the few people I know who can approach me when I am nuclear-cranky and calm me down. He deserves so much more than I am able (or willing) to give right now, and for that I'm sorry. But I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not: I am this person, for better or for worse. Once you capture my attention it is yours beyond any doubt or delay; I forgive everything. I will even forgive what is, for me, a cardinal sin: a breech of trust. I think this is a little frightening, for myself and others, but this is me. I'm frightening. Hrmm.
We all inhabit the Land of Decisions, because there's really no way to live one's life without making decisions. I have decided to prioritize my schoolwork this semester; I have decided to work two jobs over the summer; I have decided to go to New Zealand for my study abroad (more on that elsewhere). All these decisions are mine to make, but that means I must find a way to balance the inevitable fallout - others call it the consequences. Life is a little like playing that game Pick-up Sticks, where moving one stick causes four or five others to wobble or fall. One choice, spurrious or well-researched, and everything shifts. There are no meaningless choices, which means that, for someone who has an addictive, obsessive, planning personality, the world is full of upheaval.
Mitigation is what saves me. My lack of self-imposed boundaries is a destructive and dangerous tendency I am working hard to mitigate. Mitigation, prioritization, and organization. These are the tools which allow me to function in the Land of Decisions aka Life.
Geez, introspection is a butt.
WolfGrrl
The point of this post, I suppose, is to apologize for my extreme tardiness in keeping up with this blog. Last semester I made the choice to focus on my relationships (since it seems I can only do one thing with any degree of success), and in that field I was very successful. Now, however, I have made the choice to prioritize my classes (and my mental health) first, and my long-suffering boyfriend and other friends are feeling the pinch.
I am an all-or-nothing kind of person. I don't view this as a bad thing, but it does frustrate me sometimes when others demand I be more than I am. As I never cease having to inform people, I came to college to learn, not to have a social life. A social life is important, don't get me wrong, but it's not the main reason I am here, learning German and trying to find a writing mentor, turtoring others in essay writing and planning my trip abroad next spring. I am not a person who places much value on interpersonal relationships. I need them (otherwise, it's the Land of Insanity for me) but relationships are, in my view, more work than reward.
I wish I knew how to describe it so you can understand, reader. I am willing to give 200% of myself to whatever I have prioritized; when this is a relationship, I am a conscientious and constant friend. But I can't maintain such a high level of involvement without feeling the strain; being constantly on is exhausting and damaging for me. I have no filters that prevent me from burnout, which is why I risk being alone and isolated. I love my boyfriend, and to date he's one of the few people I know who can approach me when I am nuclear-cranky and calm me down. He deserves so much more than I am able (or willing) to give right now, and for that I'm sorry. But I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not: I am this person, for better or for worse. Once you capture my attention it is yours beyond any doubt or delay; I forgive everything. I will even forgive what is, for me, a cardinal sin: a breech of trust. I think this is a little frightening, for myself and others, but this is me. I'm frightening. Hrmm.
We all inhabit the Land of Decisions, because there's really no way to live one's life without making decisions. I have decided to prioritize my schoolwork this semester; I have decided to work two jobs over the summer; I have decided to go to New Zealand for my study abroad (more on that elsewhere). All these decisions are mine to make, but that means I must find a way to balance the inevitable fallout - others call it the consequences. Life is a little like playing that game Pick-up Sticks, where moving one stick causes four or five others to wobble or fall. One choice, spurrious or well-researched, and everything shifts. There are no meaningless choices, which means that, for someone who has an addictive, obsessive, planning personality, the world is full of upheaval.
Mitigation is what saves me. My lack of self-imposed boundaries is a destructive and dangerous tendency I am working hard to mitigate. Mitigation, prioritization, and organization. These are the tools which allow me to function in the Land of Decisions aka Life.
Geez, introspection is a butt.
WolfGrrl
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)