Kind of Like Me


Honesty is again the issue. Just go ahead and lie. Ach! Those were the words out of my brother’s mouth yesterday regarding smoking. I was working. Hard. Call me crazy but I think when you cram 6-8 hours worth of work into 2 you deserve a smoke. And smoking at that point yesterday would put me over my aimed for 4 Js. I dithered. I actually said ‘maybe I won’t include THIS one’ as I rolled. I didn’t make any note of it. And did it again in the evening.

I put the checks on my calendar this morning.

Give my subconscious time to do its thing and it’s amazing what can happen. I am clear on a few issues this morning. Not only clear, but ready to tackle them. I’m geared up to explain exactly why the receptionist at Addiction Central was a prick to me and how rude I found that engagement. On the heels of that impassioned speech (in my mind), I continue on to tell Heike how I don’t like her back and forth and that she really needs to get off my ass with the smoking. How her comment about my ‘real feelings’ was uncalled for and out of line. How for the SECOND time out of three visits I left feeling less together, less supported, and more angry.

Sometimes that vision includes saying ‘I don’t think this is working. I need a new therapist’. Sometimes not. The fact that I can imagine doing it at all means I’m gonna try for it. I’m going to try to be THAT honest with her. I don’t know that I’ll succeed.

I must take the time to acknowledge myself. I rip myself down all the time but rarely really support myself. Yesterday the extra Js and several hours of satisfying music-making chilled me out to the point I was READY to acknowledge myself. Rather than letting the air steal my words so I forget them, they’re gonna be immortalized here and now.

  1. However much everyone wants to think my smoking is out of control, I’m spending less than HALF what I did in Ireland. Part of that is due to the fact that smoke is so much more expensive in Ireland, part of it is due to the fact that I’m just smoking less. But every month, half of what I used to smoke away is getting put towards other uses. We’re climbing out of our financial hole.
  2. I’m communicating better with my brother. He no longer wakes up in fear of me pouncing on him the moment he enters the room because I’ve been wound up since 4 a.m. with no release.
  3. I am more mindful of my moods. My days now begin with an emotional report, kind of like the weather report. Unsettled sleep, tears while writing. Chances are it’s gonna be a bad day. Or Great sleep, already laughing at comments. I’m gonna do stuff. 
  4. My work has reached a new level. Everything is that bit better; my writing is stronger, my songs more catchy. I even LIKE what I do now.
  5. My years of pretending to be Superwoman are still affecting me; I’m tackling more things at once than most people would ever choose to do. Quitting smoking is just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve also been instilling better eating habits, better exercise, controlled relaxing (still don’t have the hang of it), and more attention to my personal appearance.
  6. However much I come out here and blow my top, I’ve not done that in public. Can’t even BEGIN to say how much of an improvement that is.
  7. I’m not hurting myself. I don’t go out and walk when I’m angry. That’s when I turn an ankle, or pop my knee, or whatever. Push my RA body until it breaks, that’s what I do. Right now that means sitting more – which is a challenge in and of itself. But until I learn how to walk while angry and NOT hurt myself, I sit. No self harm.
  8. I’m still being honest.

That’s a great list. None of it’s small stuff, none of it is easily blown off. Me from thirty years ago would have been blown away by Me now.


And I’m learning Dutch.

DAMN, I’m good! Even when I can’t quite believe that of myself.

Tja! I so want to add something like ‘Now all I have to work on is -‘. What a negation. My bro said I juggle 24 balls at once and bemoan the 2 I let drop. He’s right on that. So let me add that all I really need to work on now is giving myself props for all the juggling I do. Pat myself on the back more often. Treat myself because, in the immortal words of L’Oréal, I’m worth it.

I’ve no idea what today holds for me. Not one inkling. I want the day to unfold organically, naturally. Let whatever comes, come. Walk a little slower, look up at the sky a bit more often. Smile. Take a break from my irritation. A cynic might quip that I’m in a much more mellow mood thanks to that bit extra smoke yesterday. *shrugs shoulders* Perhaps. I like myself better this way. I’m fully aware of that anger and irritation, just not touched by it right now. I’m in control, not the other way around. I can access it or let it go.

…My two gallons of homemade blackberry wine have been sitting near my desk since I put them up. One is now reacting violently; I had to put a pan underneath it because it was overflowing a bit. Most people who try to make wine get all the equipment, including those fancy tops that are designed to let out the gas while preventing the liquid from escaping. I’m neither that rich nor that fussy. I do it on the cheap, and just loosely cover the top with a bubble of transparent wrap from the store and secure it with a rubber band. So it overflows from time to time.

Kind of like me.


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