“Don’t forget to love yourself.”
So I have a feeling that this is going to be quite a confessional post. I’ve spent a while trying to work myself out. By a while, I mean a long time. I guess we all do it on a subconscious level – try to make sense of things, but recently I’ve made a concerted effort to try and figure out what is going on in this old head of mine. I’m aware that I’m already sounding a bit strange. I won’t blame you if you stop reading. The result: I am none the wiser.
There are things I know: I like to people please, I find it difficult to let people down. I get easily upset if something isn’t right in my personal relationships. I get angry if someone upsets a person I love (and usually hold an unspoken grudge against said someone.) I like to be in control. I like to plan. I don’t like to go with the flow, unless I know I’ll be going with the flow – I know, edging on weirdo. I realised I’m a bit of a romantic and I fall for things quickly and easily, whether they are people or ideas or books or food (especially food), you get the idea. I don’t tend to reveal much of what I feel unless I mean to. Once I start to care about something or someone, there usually isn’t much going back for me, and letting go of it becomes a long, hard process. I don’t like being given presents or being bought stuff. Yep, full blown weirdo. Don’t get me wrong, I like presents. I like stuff. But I don’t like the actual ‘being given’ part of these things (unless from my parents, they are allowed.)
There are things I don’t know: Why I instinctively mother nearly, almost everyone – even my own mother. Why sometimes I think so far ahead that I stress myself out. Why I only enjoy eating custard cold. Why I mentally attempt to cover all bases of possibility. I mean, that’s the reason I carry the world in my handbag. Antihistamines? Hand cream? A plaster? Yep I got it; I’ve got all of the things. Why I can handle a 2 hour train journey, but a 2 hour car journey feels like time never moves. Why I have days where I feel so out of my depth- which is silly, because I have every day covered: my handbag is stocked with everything, remember? Why, sometimes, if something goes wrong, it can feel like the world has imploded, even though the world is fine and I can usually be found cocooning in my duvet, feeling sorry for myself. Eventually, I wonder why I spend time thinking about these things and trying to work myself out – I can only ever really be what I’m going to be, correct? And I think perhaps the trick to figuring out some of the things I don’t know, is just accepting and embracing them. Maybe even loving them.
This was quite an honest post for me, and it was not easy to write. There are things I have not written about; they are more for my thoughts only. I think I am more comfortable having people who know me well read this. But to you strangers who stuck with me through that episode of rhetorical verbal diarrhea, I assure you I am (usually) sane and well.