My mom sometimes tells the story of when I was small and I was trying to drag the toboggan up the driveway. Enveloped in my snowsuit, I shuffled up the snow-packed drive, dragging the toboggan behind me on a rope. I would get about half way up, slip, fall, and accidentally let go of the rope, at which point the toboggan would slide back down to the bottom of the driveway. I did this a few times, but at some point I hit the wall. I fell again and lost the toboggan, but instead of getting back up again I stayed where I was. I lay on my stomach and screamed, pounding the driveway with my fists and feet, wailing against the universe for all I was worth.
Notes from my primary school teachers on my school reports explain that I am emotional and easily frustrated when things do not go my way. That I am eager to please but have poor self esteem and am often too hard on myself.
I am, apparently always have been, high maintenance.
When we decided to separate my ex told me he would make every effort not to land himself with another writer. Emotional and inconsistent. I know. Somehow, because he is also a bit of a shape-shifter, JP can “handle” me. Indeed he is the only man I have loved who has shown to have this remarkable power.
When I feel passionate about something, I can buzz intensely, so much so that the friction is aggravating to others. When I am unable to find a path to express what I feel, I bottle everything up, then eventually explode in frustration and sadness.
I don’t know what to do with my life anymore. I am 34 and feel as if I have accomplished nothing, am contributing nothing. My sense of self worth has bottomed out. I have seen how some bloggers take breaks for awhile. I am going to do that. I will write when it seems like a mingling of my daft mind and the holy blank page might be worth something.
Take care. Sx
Through The Trees
1 hour ago