We wanted to find love
We wanted success
Until nothing was enough
Until my middle name was excess
–PJ Harvey/We FloatI held a dandelion
That said the time had come
To leave upon the wind
Not to return
When summer burned the earth again
–Elton John-Bernie Taupin/Curtains
So, I was writing about being uncomfortable and it was making me feel more and more uneasy. So I pretty much just bailed on it in the middle.
I told myself I was sleepy.
I told myself I had said what I needed to say.
I told myself it was finished.
I was lying to myself, and that made me even more uneasy.
Kind of like an itchy scar.
There are aspects of myself that I do not like, or that other people don’t like. Same as everyone else. In the past I have tried to sort of cross them out. Like I could just take a big fat eraser and rub out any perceived flaws. The trouble is, the things I try to change about myself resist such shabby treatment. They try to leak out in other even less appealing ways. Such as promiscuity, binge eating or other abusive behaviors.
I am naturally flirtatious and prone to be friends with guys. I do have women friends, but I probably have more men as friends. For the record, I am also naturally prone to be romantically monogamous. One serious boyfriend had big problems with my friendships with men, he was jealous, we fought about it. I quashed it. I had no idea how to not enjoy talking to men. I was pretty. I got a lot of attention from men and I couldn’t figure out what to do with it if I couldn’t be myself. I couldn’t figure out why simply not being myself was making me so unhappy if I was doing it for the “right reasons.” Actually, I didn’t even try to figure it out. I just thought there was something wrong with me if I couldn’t do this one little thing to make someone happy.
So I started eating. The attention from men diminished as my size got larger.
Problem solved.
Except, I had found a new way to deal with any sort of discomfort. Squash it and eat something. Promiscuity was certainly better for my figure, but apparently in a committed relationship it is frowned upon. Perhaps I can revisit it now that I am about to be single again.
Anything but dealing with the issue at hand, right?
Nobody really likes talking about this sort of thing. And nobody likes hearing about it either. Thinking about it sucks, too.
While I am more and more at ease with most of my quirks, and less and less inclined to change to suit anyone else’s expectations, I still struggle with actually liking myself for who I am. Or feeling like I deserve to be treated the way I want to be. Or rather, feeling like I am crazy for putting up with less while simultaneously feeling like I must be crazy for thinking I deserve better.
And I am still prone to all kinds of excessive behavior when there is something about myself or someone else that I am having an issue with. Even sometimes when I don’t quite know what it is yet. Like now.
Or when I might know deep down but not want to admit it.
It makes me so uncomfortable to think about it that I know I need to.
If you’re one of the people I vent to, you might want to buckle up. Some of you probably already have…and I am sorry for it.