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(wrote this in one of my notebooks at tonight's passim show)
Flying solo tonight, which makes me both smug and a little bit lonely.
Light and I are meeting with a financial advisor, we just had our second meeting and it's bad tasting medicine, difficult to swallow but ultimately useful. I used to say I was bad at wanting, but that' not truly true. Intangible things, transitory things and I'm all about the wanting and occasionally things that stand in for other things, token that prove to me other people think about me when I'm not there.
But a three bedroom house in Arlington with a basement, a garage and space (even just a little) between us and our neighbors? I might as well try to figure out how to realize my stereotypical childhood ambition of growing up to become a firetruck. But I feel like this is the kind of want I'm feeling like we're supposed to come to the meetings with.
But I want good food, healthy pets and the occasional trip to Hawaii. I want love and affection and to learn how to make pasta. I want to be brave, I want to learn how to demand things from myself and other. I want to buy Coolidge and Grace all the children's books, I want to hug a beluga. And this isn't to sound self-satisfied, like someone proclaiming they don't own a tv, when all that really means is that they watch hulu on their laptop. I'm not claiming any moral superiority, it's probably better to want beach houses and diamonds than to want all this cosseting and comforting (and maybe occasionally even to be coveted)
I've said it before, probably in this journal, and I'll almost certainly say it again, that I've never hated myself quite so much as when I realized the things I wanted weren't things I could provide myself, that wanting someone's hand on my hair meant I'd always be at someone's mercy. (admittedly, Light's mercy is a pretty wonderful place to be, and Abundance just keeps stepping up with the exception of the places where our damages seem to amplify each other's)
I was about to say that was too melodramatic to be true, that a girl woman who has tried to kill herself must have had multiple crises of self-loathing to get to that point, but now I can't recall any hate, more resignation and disappointment, and if I hated anything, it was probably the world, but maybe that's not true either, I've been impatient and scornful of my own weaknesses for a quite some time now.
And maybe this lack-of-wanting is another way I'm trying to make myself small (there's an awesome TED talk about how you should assume confident space-taking-up poses immediately before interviewing), trying to get my soul to do what my body won't and take up less space.
Growing experiences, I guess. Maybe it's time to start admitting the future's real and I can shape it rather than just be shaped by it.
Flying solo tonight, which makes me both smug and a little bit lonely.
Light and I are meeting with a financial advisor, we just had our second meeting and it's bad tasting medicine, difficult to swallow but ultimately useful. I used to say I was bad at wanting, but that' not truly true. Intangible things, transitory things and I'm all about the wanting and occasionally things that stand in for other things, token that prove to me other people think about me when I'm not there.
But a three bedroom house in Arlington with a basement, a garage and space (even just a little) between us and our neighbors? I might as well try to figure out how to realize my stereotypical childhood ambition of growing up to become a firetruck. But I feel like this is the kind of want I'm feeling like we're supposed to come to the meetings with.
But I want good food, healthy pets and the occasional trip to Hawaii. I want love and affection and to learn how to make pasta. I want to be brave, I want to learn how to demand things from myself and other. I want to buy Coolidge and Grace all the children's books, I want to hug a beluga. And this isn't to sound self-satisfied, like someone proclaiming they don't own a tv, when all that really means is that they watch hulu on their laptop. I'm not claiming any moral superiority, it's probably better to want beach houses and diamonds than to want all this cosseting and comforting (and maybe occasionally even to be coveted)
I've said it before, probably in this journal, and I'll almost certainly say it again, that I've never hated myself quite so much as when I realized the things I wanted weren't things I could provide myself, that wanting someone's hand on my hair meant I'd always be at someone's mercy. (admittedly, Light's mercy is a pretty wonderful place to be, and Abundance just keeps stepping up with the exception of the places where our damages seem to amplify each other's)
I was about to say that was too melodramatic to be true, that a girl woman who has tried to kill herself must have had multiple crises of self-loathing to get to that point, but now I can't recall any hate, more resignation and disappointment, and if I hated anything, it was probably the world, but maybe that's not true either, I've been impatient and scornful of my own weaknesses for a quite some time now.
And maybe this lack-of-wanting is another way I'm trying to make myself small (there's an awesome TED talk about how you should assume confident space-taking-up poses immediately before interviewing), trying to get my soul to do what my body won't and take up less space.
Growing experiences, I guess. Maybe it's time to start admitting the future's real and I can shape it rather than just be shaped by it.
