A visit with J
Here I am again. It’s going to be one of those weeks. With the exception of Donna Vera, all of you who regularly read are complete strangers. I wish that you would speak, but it is enough to know you visit regularly and check in. As I was saying, it’s going to be one of those weeks. A tough one with lots of emotional realizations. I am learning to really hate weeks like this. I know that they propel me forward. I know that they are part of this whole process. But nonetheless, I am learning to hate it.
First, and this is purely feminine, but I have to tell someone. I hate my hair. I recently got a perm and although it looks all right, I’ve even gotten compliments on it, it feels terrible. My hair now feels damaged and dry and I hate it. I realized this the other day. There’s my female bitch for the day.
Ms. J
I had my appointment with Ms. J this morning. It went well. I realized something while talking to her. The whole Mr. Boyfriend thing…even if things were off kilter Friday night – even if I was ticked off that he didn’t call until 9:20 in the evening and then expected me to be receptive…no matter what he did, I ought to have warned him I was going to be out and about and in the company of male friends. I know that this is his deficit and I should have been more protective of it.
Hindsight is 20/20, eh?
This came from a comment J made about feeling secure in ourselves and God and that possibly alleviating jealousy. I disagreed. Surprised even myself. Here is my philosophy: We are all the walking wounded. All of us. We all walk around with holes in our hearts, hurts we have incurred. They make us more sensitive in some areas. When we truly care about another human being, whether that person is a best friend or a boyfriend or a girlfriend, we will be protective and careful of the other.
Of course, don’t get me wrong…I know that in order to be equal; Mr. Boyfriend should have been damn careful of MY wounds, been sensitive to my heart. And he was not. In some areas he’s been pretty cloddish. I let it go, hoping that as we got to know each other, as he learned about me, he would be more sensitive. He wasn’t. Not in some areas. I will learn from this. I have learned something about what I need.
J also had the audacity to suggest that I might be in denial. That I need to learn to feel my feelings. Nifty. If I’m sad, I should know that it’s ok to be sad. I should FEEL sad. Or any other emotion.
Is wanting to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head a feeling?
Ok, here’s how I FEEL about this stuff with Mr. Boyfriend. I’ll try this, first, because it is so close to the surface. Maybe I can actually touch it.
I feel sad. I feel lonely. I feel abandoned. I feel a little betrayed. I feel disappointed. I feel a little tricked. I feel angry. I feel hurt. (Hey, this isn’t so difficult.) I feel empty. I feel rejected and confused. Oh, fine. I feel GUILTY. I also feel like I was really stupid for getting involved in the first place.
The Weight Game
And here, here’s the psychotic-ness in me. I am 36 years old. I quit smoking in September. I gained 10 pounds. For the last 24 hours all I’ve done is obsess about my weight. I think, personally, it’s control I’m struggling with. I’m also expecting that those ten pounds are the reason I am so easy to walk away from. Beauty. Oh, I know. I have realized in the last month or so that I still get looked at and hit on plenty. Apparently it doesn’t matter that much. This is an improvement from my thought process before. But I’m terrified of the weight I’ve gained. I’m afraid it makes me look ugly.
How’s that for neurotic? Or am I simply verbalizing what most people think? Or did Dadd-e-o and the ex seriously do some damage to me? I don’t know. I suppose I shall have to bring this up to J. In the mean time, I’m doing the weight watchers thing (lost five pounds the first couple of weeks last time) and exercising. I’ll feel better, I guess. It’s not like I don’t have the time, at the moment, anyway. (Am I going to feel sorry for myself now? Why, yes! Yes, I am.)
First, and this is purely feminine, but I have to tell someone. I hate my hair. I recently got a perm and although it looks all right, I’ve even gotten compliments on it, it feels terrible. My hair now feels damaged and dry and I hate it. I realized this the other day. There’s my female bitch for the day.
Ms. J
I had my appointment with Ms. J this morning. It went well. I realized something while talking to her. The whole Mr. Boyfriend thing…even if things were off kilter Friday night – even if I was ticked off that he didn’t call until 9:20 in the evening and then expected me to be receptive…no matter what he did, I ought to have warned him I was going to be out and about and in the company of male friends. I know that this is his deficit and I should have been more protective of it.
Hindsight is 20/20, eh?
This came from a comment J made about feeling secure in ourselves and God and that possibly alleviating jealousy. I disagreed. Surprised even myself. Here is my philosophy: We are all the walking wounded. All of us. We all walk around with holes in our hearts, hurts we have incurred. They make us more sensitive in some areas. When we truly care about another human being, whether that person is a best friend or a boyfriend or a girlfriend, we will be protective and careful of the other.
Of course, don’t get me wrong…I know that in order to be equal; Mr. Boyfriend should have been damn careful of MY wounds, been sensitive to my heart. And he was not. In some areas he’s been pretty cloddish. I let it go, hoping that as we got to know each other, as he learned about me, he would be more sensitive. He wasn’t. Not in some areas. I will learn from this. I have learned something about what I need.
J also had the audacity to suggest that I might be in denial. That I need to learn to feel my feelings. Nifty. If I’m sad, I should know that it’s ok to be sad. I should FEEL sad. Or any other emotion.
Is wanting to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head a feeling?
Ok, here’s how I FEEL about this stuff with Mr. Boyfriend. I’ll try this, first, because it is so close to the surface. Maybe I can actually touch it.
I feel sad. I feel lonely. I feel abandoned. I feel a little betrayed. I feel disappointed. I feel a little tricked. I feel angry. I feel hurt. (Hey, this isn’t so difficult.) I feel empty. I feel rejected and confused. Oh, fine. I feel GUILTY. I also feel like I was really stupid for getting involved in the first place.
The Weight Game
And here, here’s the psychotic-ness in me. I am 36 years old. I quit smoking in September. I gained 10 pounds. For the last 24 hours all I’ve done is obsess about my weight. I think, personally, it’s control I’m struggling with. I’m also expecting that those ten pounds are the reason I am so easy to walk away from. Beauty. Oh, I know. I have realized in the last month or so that I still get looked at and hit on plenty. Apparently it doesn’t matter that much. This is an improvement from my thought process before. But I’m terrified of the weight I’ve gained. I’m afraid it makes me look ugly.
How’s that for neurotic? Or am I simply verbalizing what most people think? Or did Dadd-e-o and the ex seriously do some damage to me? I don’t know. I suppose I shall have to bring this up to J. In the mean time, I’m doing the weight watchers thing (lost five pounds the first couple of weeks last time) and exercising. I’ll feel better, I guess. It’s not like I don’t have the time, at the moment, anyway. (Am I going to feel sorry for myself now? Why, yes! Yes, I am.)
posted by New Day | 11:20 AM
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