Frankly, there are things I may say here that will inevitably hurt or offend someone and the potential for that is making me hesitate. The reality is, I've lived nearly 40 years now constantly worrying about what others think of me ...a people pleaser to the core. I mean, god forbid someone doesn't like me. I remember my mom being so concerned with appearances and worried about what others thought. She would tell me time & time again that I was much prettier when I smiled. And so it went ...the need to lead with a smile whether I meant it or not ...hungry for approval & any kind of affirmation that I was likeable, smart, funny, worthy, etc. In fact, the ONLY time I didn't care about what others thought was if I was wasted, which of course, has always caught up with me ...unraveling the disaster that was or was not.
I can't help but wonder how much I am editing my words, myself, my life these days? I still want approval but more in the form of support, acceptance & feedback. I don't think we can ever show any one person all of us. I think different people allow us a safe platform to share certain parts of us and even expose ourselves safely ...but fully? I guess I need to ask myself, can I even give myself the acceptance to allow it from anyone else?
My brain is tired & it's time for bed.
Good night. :)
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
June 23, 1991
I hated my childhood ...hated where I came from & the family I belonged to, where we lived, the car we drove & the clothes I wore. I hated my mom, my step-dad, my father & mostly, I hated myself.
Anytime my parents went out, I'd fantasize about them never coming home. If they died, at least I could miss them. On June 23, 1991, my wish came true. That was the day I lost my mom in fatal car accident. She was 39 when she died, 81 days away from turning 40.
From that day on, I've always wondered if I'd live longer than my mom and I swore that no matter what, my life would be better. At the age of 20, with a pile full of past and an ache for better, more and just plain away, I set out to be anything but my mother.
In 7 days, on March 28th, 2011, I will be 81 days from 40. Have I succeeded? Have I done better? Am I so different from my mom? If I do live longer, will I make it count?
I don't know exactly where this will take me but over the next 81 days beginning March 28th, I'll share some of my memories, quirks, thoughts and personal struggles in hopes of moving closer to contentment and getting out of my own way as I strive for better.
Anytime my parents went out, I'd fantasize about them never coming home. If they died, at least I could miss them. On June 23, 1991, my wish came true. That was the day I lost my mom in fatal car accident. She was 39 when she died, 81 days away from turning 40.
From that day on, I've always wondered if I'd live longer than my mom and I swore that no matter what, my life would be better. At the age of 20, with a pile full of past and an ache for better, more and just plain away, I set out to be anything but my mother.
In 7 days, on March 28th, 2011, I will be 81 days from 40. Have I succeeded? Have I done better? Am I so different from my mom? If I do live longer, will I make it count?
I don't know exactly where this will take me but over the next 81 days beginning March 28th, I'll share some of my memories, quirks, thoughts and personal struggles in hopes of moving closer to contentment and getting out of my own way as I strive for better.
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