wasting the life I have by wishing for the life I want

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Mondays are hard at my job.
Today was a very Monday Monday.

There was a time when the dislike of this job would’ve sent me off into a tailspin of self-doubt and loathing as I was not doing what I’d imagined I’d be doing when I was young and full of dreams about the future.

Now I’m at a place where I’m remarkably okay with the fact that I’m not doing what I planned when I was fifteen. I have a place inside of me that wants to discover what it is that makes me happy. One day it could be a cookie, the next day it could be some orgasms, the next day it could be a book about cookies and orgasms.

When I was younger my dreams were big fluffy things that floated and sparkled and had no basis in reality. I was going to be a writer and I was going to never run out of things to write and I would create something amazing.

Don’t get me wrong, that dream is still in my heart, but there are other things in there as well. There is a dreamy joy and hope for my son, something I never could’ve picture all those years ago. There is also a satisfaction from being good at the job I have, even on a crappy Monday.

My thoughts and dreams of being a writer when I was fifteen had more to do with the books I read then any grasp of what was involved in writing. I was going to be biting and interesting like Dorothy Parker. I was going to be sharp and daring like Anais Nin. I was going to be clever and honest like Harper Lee. And those were just the women I wanted to be like, the man list was even longer with dreamy wild lives that would turn me into a writer.

Which is the problem. Nothing was going to “turn” me into anything. Nothing is going to turn me into something else. There is this thing in my head that speaks to my heart and says it is all well and good to be in love with being a writer. It is all well and good to have fanciful thoughts, but the truth is that writing is like any other profession, it is work. Fun work, fulfilling work, but still work at the end of the day. I can’t just have a fanciful imaginary writer’s life without actually writing.

This is something that I’m struggling with right now. I write, I journal, I letter, I do all kinds of things with words. On one hand, it for sure makes me a writer. On the other hand, I don’t make my living writing, so it doesn’t make me a writer. These are the two thoughts that go around and around in my head, and as recently as two years ago I would’ve ignored everything and just sat around fantasizing what I would do, and where I would travel, when I was officially a writer. I wouldn’t consider the fact that I have to come up with words that make something in order to have some fancy life.

Right now in my life what I really want to do is stop pretending that I will turn into a writer because I wish it hard enough. I want to come to terms with me and be okay with me, and enjoy me. If I write a couple paragraphs, that makes me happy. If I have a crap day at work, I can enjoy the company of friends and family and not wish my life away.

I guess I just want to stop pretending I’m going to turn into somebody else, and just enjoy the fact that I’m starting to turn into, and enjoy me.

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Just a Thought

All those things that spineless women say, confusing their weakness with morality.
—Gillian Flynn/Gone Girl

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Coiled

Coiled Cat

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Just a Thought

But there was a kitten on my pillow, and it was purring in my face and vibrating gently with every purr, and, very soon, I slept.
—Neil Gaiman/The Ocean At The End Of The Lane

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Little Lily

Little Lily

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Just a Thought

Amy made me believe I was exceptional, that I was up to her level of play. That was both our making and undoing. Because I couldn’t handle the demands of greatness. I began craving ease and average-ness, and I hated myself for it, and ultimately, I realized, I punished her for it.
—Gillian Flynn/Gone Girl

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I’ll take the love and leave the doubts, thanks.

First Tea Rose of the Season

My week has been really lovely. I’m doing more of this self-examining stuff and doing what I can to feel better every day.

When I was on vacation and able to see my friends and have a couple little adventures it was kind of like my heart opened up to my head and there was kind of a connection again. I’ve been sick so much in the last year that I had forgotten how much of a delight it is to just be with people that like you.

That is also something that I’m struggling with on a regular basis, that I may, in fact, be likable. This is a constant struggle for me, I am always surprised when people express an interest in seeing me. I am surprised when people give me love unsolicited. Being with friends for vacation, and then returning home and spending time with some other loved ones has made things click in a way they have not before.

It is okay to believe people when they say they love or like or enjoy my company. It is okay to believe people without burying myself in the idea that I have to earn that love and like and enjoyment. I can just be me and not have the me that I am be a reflection of what I think others might want from me.

This is not a new and shiny concept, and I know I’ve heard these thoughts before from others, but I feel like something finally fit and I feel more accepting of the idea of personal worth. I also feel like I’m more aware now than ever before that this acceptance is a task like brushing my teeth that I will need to do daily. Because if I do it daily I won’t end up with a filmy gross tartar build up on my self-worth.

I’m going to just enjoy that I had a lovely week and try to remember to floss my teeth and self-worth in the morning.

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Just a Thought

Her mind was both wide and deep, and I got smarter being with her. And more considerate, and more active, and more alive, and almost electric, because for Amy, love was like drugs or booze or porn: There was no plateau. Each exposure needed to be more intense than the last to achieve the same result.
—Gillian Flynn/Gone Girl

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Cuddly Pup

Cuddly Puppy

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Just a Thought

My advice is, stop reading the Bible, Lorna. Or maybe stop reading it so closely? Try reading the Bible while checking your e-mail while loading apps on your iPad while breaking up with someone via text while performing microsurgery on a microbot. That will have the effect of making you read less closely, and hence you will find yourself obsessing less about small, unimportant things—such as words, meanings, and inferences that might have repercussions for your immortal soul.
—George Saunders/Care To Make Love In That Gross Little Space Between Cars?

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