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This Phoenix Speaks

Seven years in the making, my first published book, This Phoenix Speaks , is now a reality. The tireless and tiring work invested to ma...

a rag session

Writing is one of those happy places for me. When I am happy, I write. When I am sad, beyond ticked off, confused, whatever, I write and it gets me into a better place than where I began. So when things started unraveling for me this evening, I wish I could have had a moment to write down some of the things flying through my head, but it never worked out to do so. I couldn't even jot it down through a quick text to a friend, tweet, or a note pad. Actually--I did get one tweet out, but otherwise I was too unavoidably busy tonight.

What I am left with now is a sense of powerlessness which I know is at least a half-lie (if there is such a thing), flared-up voice box reflux discomfort, and this overwhelming desire to cry. I must admit to buying into second-guessing all of my friendships and victimizing myself for a moment or two longer than is healthy. (For the record--any moment of victim mentality is unhealthy, ok?)

I feel like a jerk. I am friends with more than a gob of fabulous people, but enjoy this soul-piercing sense of dejectedness with too many others. Why do people either love me or hate me with mostly zero of the in between sort? I feel so blessed on the one hand and super duper uber loserly on the other. It's not as if I don't work on improving my interpersonal skills either. Some people just really detest who and how I am. And it breaks my heart whenever it's someone I deeply care about. I can work on some aspects of my personality defects, but seriously, I cannot stop being myself. That is unacceptable to my mind. I have squashed my true self for too many years to go back to acting a part again.

The joyous thing about all my ragging is that it's only part of my life's truth. The other side of the truth is that I have talents that people value; I'm figuring out that my seriousness gone awry is considered funny by quite a lot of people and that makes me smile; There are people in the world who truly care about me regardless of anything I do--good or irritating; And no matter what, deep down inside past all the pain, I know I am a beloved daughter of God. I think that my recovery time simply needs some work, then I won't get so bent out of shape when negative events try to work their magic on my emotions.

And for the record--writing this all down cheered me up considerably. Thanks for listening. You're the best!

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