It’s 5:25am…I’ve been up for two hours.
At 3:30 I let the dog out, cause she was hogging the bed and snoring. I went back to bed and laid wide awake for an hour before deciding I could find something better to do with my time.
My mind won’t shut down. No big surprise here. The other night I had a dream, one of the few lately that I actually remember. In it there was a wolf…a very large wolf. That struck me as odd…so I decided to look it up and see if there was some meaning to this wolf.
To see a wolf in your dream symbolizes survival, beauty, solitude, mystery, self-confidence and pride. You are able to keep your composure in a variety of social circumstances and blend into any situation with ease and grace. You are also a loner by choice. Negatively, the wolf represents hostility, aggression, or sneakiness. It may reflect an uncontrollable situation or an all-consuming force in your life. This could point to an obsession, an addiction or something that is beyond your control.
This definition is accurate in my current state of mind. On one had I am a survivor, beautiful (haha, so they tell me) I like my solitude and I have a deep seeded self confidence and am proud of myself. Yes, I can keep my composure and blend in to any situation…with grace and ease, well maybe on the outside.
The trouble is…the latter part. This too is spot on. I’m having just a wee bit of trouble letting go of some shit lately. (Please, humor me, I am more than aware that it is more than a wee bit.) All consuming force, damn straight. Obsession??? Addiction?? Although maybe a bit extreme, that is about how this feels right now.
I was all ready to take this new year on with more confidence. I’m failing miserably. While I was taking advantage of being alone and awake at an ungodly hour this morning, I was reminded of how often people have disliked me in the past. For some reason, I rub people the wrong way. Often. The intelligent part of my brain reminds me that these people who have been so outspoken of their dislike of me, are not relevant people. It still stings. What stings most…what shakes my confidence to the very core, are the people who ARE relevant, the people I love and care for, that would rather see the bad things in me, then to give me even the slightest bit of benefit, forgiveness or love.
What exactly is it about me that makes me so damn easy to walk away from…to judge harshly, to disregard? I am that person who you can come to and say…Hey that was a real shitty thing you did. To which I would reply, What? OMG, I didn’t mean it to be shitty…I’m sorry. I would not then hold a grudge. Not defend myself to the point of groveling…I would own up, apologize and get the fuck on with life. What I usually get is….left behind. Wondering what the fuck happened.
I gave my marriage my all. He was never happy. There was never a time I didn’t try to make things better (well, until the very end). No matter what it was, whatever he said he needed, I did my best to give him that. It was, never enough. My mother said I needed to suffer. She suffers. I make her suffer by not being what she wants me to be. I am a hateful person in her eyes…No matter what I do or say, it is, never enough.
I dated a boy when I was 19, he dumped me solely on my choice of words. He was going to do a favor for a friend. Instead of just telling me what it was all about, he let my imagination have at it. It involved another girl, so you can imagine where my 19 year old brain went. I was wrong, and when he told me about it, I said “oh, well, why didn’t you just say so. I would have let you go.” My choice of words…let you go. That is ultimately what led to the end of the relationship. Did I think he needed my permission? Not exactly. He chose not to be honest with me about the situation from the beginning. I would have been fine with the whole damn thing if he had. Was it a test? Maybe. I failed.
The hunky stallion finally confessed. As relieved as I am to no longer have to wonder….I’m left feeling the same way I did with that boyfriend at 19. If, he had just opened up, told me what was going on from the beginning, he would have come to find out I would have been fine with it. Instead, he tested me, and I failed. I should start my next relationship by being upfront and telling the poor bastard…I suck at tests.
I’m honest. I will tell you what I am and am not capable of. I will also not give up on you if you need me. No matter what, it is, never enough. At least that is where I am feeling at this moment. I’m frustrated and angry, heartbroken and confused. As much as I would like to blame all the dumb bastards who aren’t willing to give me a chance…who can’t just be honest and say, this is what I want, can you take it? Maybe I can. Maybe I can’t. I just want to know what I’m dealing with. If I don’t want it, can’t take it…I’ll let you know. As much as I would like to blame them, I have to think that it might just be me. Maybe I don’t represent myself as an honest person. Maybe I don’t know how to pick stand up guys who would be able to up front and not play games.
Maybe it’s none of that. I don’t know. 3:30 in the morning is a hell of a time to be thinking about all this shit.
I think I’ll make some cookies.