Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Not fun.

I don't feel like editing a Facebook page.
I don't feel like cleaning the toilet.
I don't feel like having too much to do.
There are too many things to do.
There is too much stuff around.
This is not fun.

When will the fun begin?
What IS fun?

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Trust yourself

Trust yourself.
- Tama Kieves

Grow up

Guess I need to leave the nest.

Vomit

NOW

Feel like I've eaten something toxic.

Feel like I'm being strangled...only by myself.

All my life, since I can remember, I've felt like I was imprisoned, kept in a hostile environment, not able to live my own life...whatever that might be.

That last little phrase is telling, because I don't know what that is.  I don't know what I want to do.  Make commitments to myself and forget them. The road to hell is paved with good intentions? How can someone have so many good intentions and so little to show for it?

Yes, the little voice is saying - "You are too hard on yourself - look at all you've achieved," but something is wrong, and all the attempts at positive thinking don't result in any permanent result.

Feel like an oil-soaked bird who cannot fly.  Feel like someone stuck in an eternal traffic jam.  Feel like I'm trapped under the water with a weight strapped to my feet and my hands tied. Feel like someone at the bottom of a dumpster with lots of junk on top.

What are the specifics?

  • Mail piles up and I keep thinking I will deal with this and that, and then I'm going to have guests and I put it all in a box and hide it somewhere.  Then, every time I look at it (hardly ever), I see all these things I need to decide about and it's going to take forever and I can't do it.
  • Projects pile up.
    • I want to clean up the kitchen but I don't want to get rid of anything and there isn't enough room for everything.
    • I want to have a space that is mine, where I can write or draw, but there is none.
    • I want the yard to be a lovely spot, with paths, and pool, and shady spots, with herb garden and vegetables and rain garden with California natives mostly. Right now, it's less than half done.  I have plants in pots and I need to get them in the ground before they die.  Sometimes they do die before I get them planted.
    • My car is a mess. Things that need to be returned, things that need to go to thrift store, things I don't know what to do with.
    • Want to have a "sangha," a group of people who will come here to meditation once a week or once a month, but house is too messy, yard is too messy.
    • Want to be able to spend more time with kids and grandkids, but always feel overwhelmed with the chaos of the house and yard.
    • Want to make sense of photos - never have time to go through them, edit, delete, organize, share.
  • Waste time. Read, read read.  Novels, information, computer. E-mail, Facebook, environmental, political. It's like I have a library, but the books are lying about in piles and are not benefitting anyone. It's like I read books on exercise and don't do it.
  • All this knowledge, but little result.
  • Hardly any friends.  Don't feel comfortable with people. What do I feel? Don't know what to say. Talk too much. Feel too needy. Afraid of being judged. Afraid of being nagged to do things I don't want to do.
HISTORY
  • High-strung baby. Colic. 
    • My mother had older sister who was domineering and who she thought that her mother loved more than her. Both girls were placed in orphanage after their father died and their mother could not take care of them - I think they were 2 and 6 or 8.  My mother felt hurt because her older sister was brought home to live and she had to stay at the orphanage. Her older sister got new things and my mother got hand-me-downs.  I thought about this, and told my mother that maybe she stayed at the orphanage longer because she was too young to look after at home. And maybe she got the hand-me-downs because her mom could not afford new clothes for two children.
    • My father was domineering and so was his mother. I was the first grandchild and was treated as the family jewel by my father and his family, in some ways.  My mother was Cinderella.  She was at the edge of things.  She was not respected. When I was 4, my sister was born.  An easy-going baby, she was not thought to resemble my father's side of the family, and she became my mother's darling, and I was somewhat rejected.
  • Was "first born son" until I was 10 ... when my brother was born. Was kind of unaware of father's outlook. So I guess I got rejected twice.  Never thought about it that way before.
    • Liked asking questions, liked science, liked to read, liked to draw.
    • Did well in school, but not as committed as I could have been. Preferred to read novels and draw. Not good at getting homework done, or learning rote items like multiplication tables, but was a B+ student or better. Was in several honors classes in high school.
    • Then, I told my father that instead of taking physics in my senior year of high school, I wanted to take Graphic Arts.  My high school had a very good graphic arts teacher and I figured I could take physics in college.  My father acted as if I had proposed becoming a streetwalker.  He was furious. Said I was lazy. Said he knew I would never take physics. I was pretty upset that he saw my wish as being so useless and negative. I felt hurt and offended. I was upset and mad.  I said he was like Hitler and he ran after me and kicked me in the behind. And I guess this was another rejection.
    • Then, I asked my parents about where to go to college, and they said, "You're a girl. You don't have to go to college. Some day, your brother will have to support a family.  He HAS to go to college.  If he can't get into CCNY, we will have to pay for him to go to private school. We have to save our money. If you want to go to Queens College, which you were able to get into, and is free, you can live at home. Maybe this was yet another rejection.
Then, of course, I had to fall in love with someone who loved me too ... but was scared of commitment ... so that ended up being another kind of rejection ... also ambiguous, as that of my parents had been.

In all these cases, I was "loved" by people who had their own agenda, an agenda which did not have my own best interests at heart. They say the good is the enemy of the best ... but even the bad has more power when it is mixed with good. I think I was very confused.  Because of the mixture of "love" and rejection, I think I kept hungering for acceptance and respect. If there had not been any good aspects to the relationships, perhaps I would have stopped looking to them for support, for acceptance. But as things are now, I feel like I have a hole in the middle of myself.

I cannot go on right now. I think this just needs to be about what's wrong.