Tag me

4 posts

Sparkly Sparkly Ghosts

I have a lot of jewelry and I don’t really wear much of it. I’m not a huge jewelry person – I wear two sets of studs in my ears to keep the holes from closing and my wedding ring, and that’s about it unless I’m feeling fancy and it’s not winter (necklaces + cold = brrrrr).
So today I went through what I had and I realized a lot of it was stuff from years ago and triggered a lot of weird memories and feelings. There’s my purity ring, the necklace my parents got me when I was thirteen with two itty bitty diamonds to represent childhood and adulthood, random stuff that I picked up over the years: the pair of earrings I wore on the really awkward date Alex and I went on, my first set of earrings ever, a bunch of random stuff….but all from within that 6 year vacuum of when I got my ears pierced until I moved out.
And it was weird, seeing it all laid out on the table as I was cleaning them feeling generally meh and worse as time went on. I put aside the necklace I made the month before my 18th birthday, when I was prepping for my drivers test. Some of my jewelry was like going back through my journals, getting snapshots of moments in time.
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It feels heavy. I didn’t realize how many physical remnants of my past I had until I started sorting through it this afternoon. So many negative associations with physical objects, even if I was happy about them at the time. Handling all of it….was a lot.
So I decided to do the cathartic thing, and just throw them out instead of holding on to them or trying to sell them. It’s maybe not the awesomest decision but I don’t need their haunting memories in my life anymore.
I did, though, keep some sentimental pieces (like my wedding set, for instance), and the pieces I really like and actually wear (mostly somewhat geeky, like my dragon-claw dice holder necklace); I feel less bogged down now, and I feel like my collection of jewelry reflects me more accurately than the messy piles of things over 8 years old did… without emotional minefields, too.

[in]significance

I struggle (and I always have) with feeling insignificant. With my self-worth and self-value. Anything that has to do with thinking I’m a remotely okay person who has a value slightly above that of a cockroach I’ve battled with. Extensively.
I blame myself for everything and anything. If it’s raining and I didn’t bring an umbrella I apologize because I feel like it’s either my fault it rained, or I should have known it was going to rain at that moment and brought something.
I have a responsibility complex which makes me feel like the world is on my shoulders and I just KNOW it will all end in nuclear war if I don’t clean my kitchen RIGHT NOW. But I hate having to spend so much energy on tasks that need to be repeated and I’m the one who does them all the time (and I don’t mind generally). But after a good long time, it comes back to my feeling less and less significant and like my primary function is home-hygiene. At that point, I just need to be a robot named Rosie. Or better yet, have a robot named Rosie.
When I get to the point that I feel like I don’t matter, I don’t do well. It bothers me because I know I matter in my head. I know I have people who like me around and think I’m relatively cool and that I’m a pretty decent human. But that does nothing to diminish the trapped feeling I have inside of myself – like I’m shackled to something and I don’t know what yet.
I take it out on my gender, and for the most part I’m okay with that. I don’t like being a woman. I just want to be a person without connotations of what women should or shouldn’t do or be in which circle, because I just want to be my complete self and I think a lot of that has to do with A) being human and B) being an ENFP (apparently, valuing individuality is a common trait).
Also, I get attacked by sharks and hormones every 3 weeks and someone needs to make that stop. It’s not healthy, I tell you!
But honestly, it would be nice to not hate myself for something I can’t help at some point. It would be nice to not lapse into an I-can’t-do-anything-unless-I-really-force-myself-and-then-take-a-nap depression when everything goes wrong because all I can manage to do is figure out a way to blame myself and try and take responsibility for something that I have literally no control over…which leads me to feeling useless and irresponsible and well, yeah, worthless.
It’d be nice to accept that sometimes I can’t do anything and that’s okay…and that somehow, my value as a person isn’t based on my ability. Is it intrinsic? And what does that even mean?
I want it to be, so badly. But I just can’t bring myself to believe that I am intrinsically valuable, even though I believe that about everyone else.
Maybe I’ll put this on my list. I am completely clueless as to the implementation. I don’t even know where to start. But if I made a little progress….that might be magical. I mean, how cool would it be to not hate myself?

Aletheia

The girl who circumnavigated Fairyland in a ship of her own making

I saw this book at work after the fundraiser, and knew I just had to buy it. The title alone completely grabbed my attention and I can’t wait to delve into September’s world.

But the title.

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making.  Just resonates.

I don’t know why, but it just feels empowering, I feel braver, stronger and capable somehow just looking at the name.

Maybe it’s because inside I yearn to be that, and I have occasional moments of feeling it. Lately, for instance, I’ve been feeling a bit more confident and glancing over the last year, I’ve become more brave, more myself, at least on the inside even if I haven’t shown it much publicly. But I want to.

In 2012 I’m going to continue my journey to me. I’m going to try to be more of the person I am and want to be inside myself. I want to reinvent, to be new and real. I want to continue to remove the layers of masks that have been my image and my persona in the past and get to the truth of who I am, the me that I once knew and abandoned . A friend of mine has been writing about words for the  year, and how she wants to be unafraid. I’ve sort of stumbled upon mine…Aletheia.

An anonymous card I received recently was signed as that. Which, according to wikipedia

Aletheia (ἀλήθεια) is a Greek word variously translated as “unclosedness”, “unconcealedness”, “disclosure” or “truth“. The literal meaning of the word λήθεια is “the state of not being hidden; the state of being evident” and it also implies sincerity, as well as factuality or reality.

I’ve been thinking about that lately, and how it uncannily describes me right now, what I crave to discover and to become. A journey I’ve started and continue to travel. So in 2012, the year I turn 21 (and no one can make fun of me for not being 21 anymore – score!) I want to become aletheia bravely, and unashamedly me.

I want to be the girl who circumnavigated her world in a ship of her own making, and I think I’m closer to that than I ever have been.

Authentic Thursday

Honestly, this one scares me a little. Because for some reason, the times that I’m honest and vulnerable here tend to blow up in my face and it’s really painful. So I haven’t posted anything here below surface level for a very very long time, because I’m scared to. I’m scared of what will happen if I am myself and vulnerable and authentic – but I’m tired of hiding inside the surface on *my own blog* and only posting things that are more or less just professionally me without much of me or my personality or myself in them. Hiding behind my words, that I hope are interesting, but never letting anyone close enough to see who I am.
I am an ENFP, and I didn’t realize how very accurate that is until recently. Accepting ( yeah, I had to accept that, and get through to myself that it’s OKAY to not be an ESTJ – which is what came up when I answered questions the way I thought I was “supposed” to instead of honestly) that has helped me understand myself, if that makes sense. A lot of the things I never understood about myself – why I felt the way I did about things, and why sometimes even the very *hint* of something being pushed on me causes me to react so violently (internally, not physically) – I was able to understand, because  I was (am) able to accept that as part of my personality, it *is* who I am, it’s who’ve I’ve always been just waiting for me to allow myself to be me and not the armored image that I thought was appropriate.
I’m not the Iron Lady anymore. I never *truly* was, I was trying to be. And that’s as hard for me to accept (or was, getting better at that now) as it is or will be for anyone else. Because I was wicked good at wearing that mask, and only the people who really tried saw through it.
So this, this is part of me. My little rose self is poking through the armor and into the daylight. Please don’t crush it.