07.16.01
Don't walk away
All day yesterday I sat and read this book called While I Was Gone. I'm about halfway through it now and I can't figure out where it's going to go, and what's going to happen. It's really not that good, and I don't like the way it's written, but it's in my head now, and has been refusing to leave all day. So I'm going to have to finish it once I get home today.
I've never been very good at talking about how I'm feeling in the present. I can rehash easily enough, but I find it difficult to find the words and the confidence to confide in someone else about what I'm going through. I'm also starting to realize, that no matter how well someone knows you, they never know the inside of your head. They don't know all the scary thoughts and foolish fears that run through your mind on a daily basis, they can't know how you think, your reasons for overanalysing, for pulling away when you're needed or for loving too strongly.
My mom wants me to figure out why I'm afraid. I want to figure that out too. But that requires me to reach out and say, "Please, help me. I don't think I can do this alone." And that is one of the hardest things to say. Mom is the easiest person to say it to. Her theory is, sure the things that help you may cost however much they cost. But what about the price you pay, everyone pays, when you're too proud to ask for help. When you think it makes you weak. How does that destroy your soul? Holding all those emotions and confusions inside, it's not good for you. And that's why I want to ask for help tonight.
She's been asking me "what's wrong?" for the last few weeks, and I've been refusing to let her in. I feel past the point of letting her, letting anyone in. I just don't know who I am. What I am. What I'm supposed to be doing. I just feel a little lost. Even looking at my courses today, wondering which ones I'll choose. I feel I've trapped myself when I chose English. Do I really like it that much? Am I really smart enough, can I write well enough to do honours? And yet, if I don't, I feel like I somehow failed. Because I've always wanted to be a writer, to read all of the worthy books in the world. And if I don't want that anymore, what do want? If I'm not going to write, what am I going to do? If I'm not an English major, what am I?
It's all these little insecurities I feel that make me want to change myself. All these little thoughts that tell me I'm not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, skinny enough. There haunting fears that just aren't going away with time like I wanted them to. This feeling of guilt I feel when my mother tells me I'm beautiful. When she tells me she's so proud of me. This feeling of guilt I feel when I see that I have more than other people, because I feel like I shouldn't have more. Like that somehow makes me a bad person. Being born with what I have. With my name, with my parents, with my family. And those aren't good feelings. They aren't making me better, making me live my life.
I know I'm never not going to be scared, but I think it's time I got to the root of what makes me feel not good enough. What makes me feel inferior to other people, what makes me think they don't want to hear about what is in my mind, however superficial that may be. I just hope I can get the words out tonight. k.
wunderwuman at