Luna Tail

I want to reply to my comments… but I’m working 11 hour days, and I’m dead tired… and I just must finish this day and then sleep for a couple, if I don’t have to work this weekend.

Ugh…

Okay, I’m in sensitive mode today. PMS and all.. I will admit it. The Agnus Castus keeps it under control, but I still have some. And when I do, my SA fires up like a.. well, like a fire under my gut.

Anyway. So I post my opinion, my cold hard opinion, and then five minutes later I’m terrified of what people will think of me.

Oh sure, I know, they don’t matter, right? Yeah I know that in my logical head, but it doesn’t stick in my emotional head.

I just was saying to someone about people who give their animals away for free. You know, dog or cat companion animals. Who are these freakin’ idiots anyway? How can you give your dog away for free? A dog you’ve had for, say, five years? A dog you have come to know and love? Yeah, I have a dog, okay? And I would not give this dog away for anything in the world.

So why do I care that I post this opinion? I mean, it’s a valid opinion. So what about stating this opinion scares me?

Good crap, I’m even agreeing with the original poster. But it’s hard for me to be as harsh as I just tried to be. Because… you know why, and this is why.

Because no matter how many replies I can think that a person will give me, always, every single time, someone throws me for a loop and replies in a way I never expected. And it can be demeaning, or insulting, or in some way cause me to feel like an idiot. And I don’t have a come-back. I’m not a witty person by nature. My therapist, when I saw her some years ago, told me that I don’t need to come up with a witty, intense reply right away. I can even say… I have to think about that. Then I can go think about my reply and give it later. Or not give one at all. Or whatever I choose.

So why on earth do I let them have such power over me?

Why do I let them have such Potential power over me?

Maybe I’m just tired today. I’m going to put in at least a 10 hour day today. After two 11 hour days. I’m in a dream state still. I’m not on top of my game at all. And I’m pissed as hell that we are going live on Monday and we are not running the information we must run in order to be even semi-ready on Monday.

Anyway… SCREW people. I want to be able to be brutally honest! Say what I think! So there!

Maybe some yelling about it will help me. =P

…. edit, it’s because no matter what I say, no matter how I say it, I have Learned Helplessness. And people will interpret it in ways that they want to, not in a way that I mean it. And they won’t LISTEN to me explain it. They will shut me out and ignore me, and demean me, and belittle me… and that, my dears is, I believe, what happened when I was little.

Learned Helplessness. What an amazing concept.

Maybe someday someone will actually agree with me (okay okay some people do and that’s why I hang out with them! )

Hey I found a cool site, Anxious Living. So I signed up for this blog to be a link.

As soon as I find an anonymous site to host the image on, I’ll do so. Wish I could link to their image but I know how annoyed people can get about that.

There is a quote I read recently which goes like this: “Say what’s on your mind, because those that matter don’t mind, and those that mind don’t matter.”

I find it interesting, and fundamentally true. And it seems, when I am tired, I can do a better job of not caring. Because I’m tired, and I just don’t care. I have been working 11 hour days at work this week, and I’m dead beat. At my Pod Cycling class last night, I was too tired to care, or be worried, or have much SA. I just kinda walked around in a daze.

Today I have been busy at work, until now. I’m waiting again, for people to give me information. Fortunately I am sturdy enough to tell people that I need this information. Unfortunately it’s not doing me much good. Because it’s just too busy lately.

Well, I guess it’s not my ass on the line finally. However, I’d like to see this part work before next week.

Waiting sucks.

I think I don’t have as much SA sometimes as I think I do. However, I still have too much.

Tapes I listen to, the guy says, even if you come last in a competition, you still can know you are ahead of all the people who didn’t compete. Competing is quite amazing for those who do it, because it is HARD. And, do you know how hard it is for someone with SA? Dammit, the fact that I’m doing it at all is a win for me.

I said in my prior post that I know I’m worthless. Let me sum up. Actually, I know I have a lot of value, and I’m a good person. I’m quite happy with my life, believe it or not. I have an awesome family, a great husband, and a decent job. I love my house and I am pursuing the things I love.

This blog reflects more of my subconscious. It reflects my core feelings, the deep down under layers of fear and humiliation. Those layers still don’t think I’m worth very much. And by saying exactly how I feel from deep down there, I hope to dig some things up, and perhaps begin to conquer them.

And if anyone ever replies to this blog, I hope no one ever says “oh but you do have value”.. I hate generic stupid terms like that. I know I do, dammit. Don’t tell me I’m wrong. The one single most important thing I learned in CoDA was, there’s no such thing as a wrong emotion.

There are a lot of single most important things I learned in CoDA.

Today was my PCC. And, it went really well! My Cycle won first place! I was so nervous. Oh man… I’m more nervous doing that kind of competition than any other. Everyone is so quiet, and so serious. It’s just like a fist grabs onto my insides and tightens.

And my brain turns off. Shuts completely down. I don’t know what I’m saying, I can’t think, I can hardly process things. People talk to me and I fall into an old, unhealthy, pattern. Instead of really listening to what they say and then responding appropriately to how I feel, I just nod and smile and laugh.

Sometimes I’ve thought I’m an empath. That I can really sense what other people are feeling. And I can mirror back to them exactly the response they want. But that is stupid, because I’m compromising myself. And I’m not giving them what they really want, when they want a genuine response from a human being separate from themselves. Who just may have a different opinion.

So I smile and laugh, or frown and smile and laugh, and reply and smile and laugh, and I just look stupid. Sometimes I’m able to remind myself to try to stop, but even then, I don’t think I succeed very well.

My whole demeanor changes. Especially my tone of voice. I sound afraid. My voice shakes, and I go monotone. It’s awful. Then I know I’m doing it, and humiliation snakes up my feet, through my pelvis, and up my spine. It grips me somewhere in the small of my back, and then fingers up to my shoulder blades. There the humiliation lodges, and as long as I’m around other people it doesn’t go away.

Because I know, to the very core of my being, that I’m an idiot. I’m worthless. And no one there wants to be around me. And I prove it over and over again by how I speak and what I say.

Sometimes there is a person I meet who doesn’t care, and will talk to me anyway. Sometimes there is a kind hearted soul who just has the ability to calm me down. There are two women in the Pod Cycling world who can do that now. And I appreciate them to no end.

If they can understand what I go through, they have never admitted it. Some people just don’t want to talk about it, I guess. It’s odd. Because if they would just say something like ‘yes, I can see that in you, and I still like you anyway…’ wow, how would that be?

People just can’t talk about it. It’s really odd, because I can talk about it, and I suffer from it.

Things are out to get me. I just know they are. Especially when I’m having PMS… but then just most of the time.

Like I try to put a book on top of some things, and it tips and falls off. I know the Universe, or the book itself, hates me, and wants to make things difficult for me. I do try to balance the book properly. But every time, there is some physical force out there that always lurks behind my shoulder, watching me, waiting to sabotage what I’m doing. I swear it’s true.

I then get mad at the thing. Whatever it is. Sometimes I want to yell and scream at the thing, or throw it across the room. Sometimes I’ll just laugh and try again. Sometimes I do the exact same thing twice, and get different results.

And I swear, sometimes I’m like 5 years old, and I want people to watch what I’m doing. Read this blog dammit! Ha ha ha, but then if anyone did read this, I’d have to just go and hide my head in a pile of sand.

This blog is already liberating. It’s fun, to speak my mind, not caring what anyone else thinks. I mean, I don’t care at all, because for one thing, no one will probably ever read it. And for another, no one really knows who I am.

I wish I could always speak like this, even when people know who I am. And if they like me fine, if not, whatever.

Maybe someday I’ll be like that.

Whenever I walk into a room of people I know, my immediate first thing I think is who likes me, and who doesn’t. Who I can talk to who will tolerate my presence.

Shouldn’t my first thought be who I like, and who I don’t? And whose presence I will tolerate?