The Spirit
I feel like I’ve been being a bit airy-fairy on my blog. I also feel a bit censored. It’s like when I used to write in my diary, and I’d be scared to write what I REALLY felt, in case someone read it and thought I was a nutter, or in case they got offended. It turns out that I AM a nutter, but only a little bit. I still think I hold back a little when I write in my current diary. I guess I just can’t help it. Maybe I should try and be a little more out there and honest with the world. My friend once told me that I was one of the most self-aware people she knows. And I am. I’m aware of my crazy thoughts as I’m thinking them; I’m aware of my irrationality at times; even as the craziness is escaping from my mouth and eyes and nose, I’m thinking to myself “Noooooooooooo…. don’t doooooo iiiiiittt”. What’s the use of having self-awareness, when I have no self-control?
It reminds me of the Scrubs episode where Elliot starts dating Nurse Flowers and is trying to act all normal around him. Then one day, “the crazy” just bursts out of her and she spills her guts all over him. And even though she thought it would completely turn him off, he just digs her even more.
I think I come across all together and composed, but really my head is constantly racing with a million thoughts and feelings and insecurities and insane assumptions about people. I’m so hard on myself and am constantly assessing and re-assessing and trying to figure out my place on this earth. And then once I figure it out, I doubt myself, and the whole process starts all over again.
I often wish I was one of those confident, super-cool chicks who seemingly run their lives with perfect precision, knowing exactly what they want, and how they’re going to get it. But I wonder if they have the same crazy thoughts running around in their heads. Maybe if I WAS like that, Hubs wouldn’t have fallen desperately in love with me. Maybe I’m lucky that he finds my craziness endearing. Yes. Very lucky. And so very blessed.
So maybe I need to embrace this characteristic and let myself be myself, within reason of course. Except for once a month. Once a month I have neither control NOR awareness of what comes out of my mouth.