A Weird One
I have decided that I have an invisible roommate named Felix.
I'm trying to pretend that I have to keep my house clean for the "other" people here. God knows I haven't been succeeding in keeping it clean for myself! Snicker. This morning I've continued on the mad-dash cleaning methodology I've taken up of late. So neurotic am I that I even wiped down the interior of my oven to remove the grease from the roasted chicken.
What's wrong with me?! Besides imagining I live with a neurotic roommate named Felix, that is.
Hey, if it works, it works, y'know.
Now, if I start telling you stories about this imagined roommate, you know I've cracked my nut and that I need professional help pronto. Ha.
I watched yesterday's Oprah while I enjoyed my coffee and my breakfast (in my almost-clean digs!) and I feel all warmed up and full-o-love. She had the Hugging Guy on there and some other amazing stories of love and achievement.
It's a heady morning now, and I don't mind it a bit. I'm glad I'm sort of getting refocused on things that are important to me, and my home is HUGELY important to me. When it's out of sorts, so am I. So, that's been, what six months? I love being at home, lying around, enjoying my surroundings, but it's been a long time since my place has been clean enough that I've felt like lighting candles and lying on my couch with a book and a glass of port. Months, really. Months and months. I figure just a half-hour a day is enough to slowly get it back into shape.
I've taken to calling the last year of my life My Lost Year. I think that somewhere down the line I'll look back on this year as being the most transformative of my life. I sunk to some new lows, became a person I truly hated for a short time there, and really struggled to just keep my life in check on a daily basis. Blogging was huge for me, particularly this blog, because it made me accountable to a sea of unseen faces. I felt I had to keep record and stay conscious of who I was, what I was doing, and how it was impacting me. That's what blogging is for me: a record, and accountability.
When I began this blog, almost two years to the day now, I didn't give a shit if anyone was reading. And newsflash: I still don't. If I did, I'd let posts sit up and fester until I got comments, and I wouldn't be posting daily such as I do. Instead, it's all for me, and you're just lucky to be able to hang around on the other side of my unseen glass.
I was thinking yesterday that blogging has been huge for me on a number of personal levels. I don't know why it's been so big for me, but I suspect it has more to do with my willingness to just be absolutely an open book about everything I feel, fear, love, hate, think, and do. Maybe it isn't the media that's impacting me, but the message I've been willing to relay. I don't know, but it's something that's turning around in my mind.
I know I've certainly been thinking about how much I've changed in the two years since I began this blog, though. Anniversaries make me think. Sigh. Before I started this, I was a closed book. I was scared to talk about what I really felt with others, scared to be open. Trusting others seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. Being injured so much in '03-'05 meant I had to learn to ask for help. Blogging meant I had to learn to have something to say. Journalling meant I had to be willing to look inside, in htose dark places flashlights don't reach.
It wasn't really until probably Mothers' Day 2005 that my mindset/blogging content began to shift. I started writing about my mom, began dealing with some of those bigger issues, those formative things that shape us all, and then I began opening up a bit more. The Cunt was where I really tapped into my inner sanctum, though, because I began writing about all my insecurities.
There's this George Michael song that's never been released (off Listen w/out Prejudice) that has always been something the hits close to home when I hear it:
"All these insecurities
that have held me down for so long,
can't say I've found a cure for these,
but at least I know them,
so they're not so strong."
And I guess that's the case.
It's strange, all of a sudden I don't think I want a relationship. I'm enjoying this getting-to-know-the-steff-inside journey I'm back on. It's a good thing and a good place to be, and the last thing I need is for a man to come along and cock it up. I think we women are more inclined to forget ourselves in relationships. Maybe it's true of men, too, I don't know. (I guess it is, just thinking of the guys I know.) And I'm really, really resistant to giving too much of myself to anyone right now 'cos I'm thinking if anyone deserves to be given any of me right now, it's ME. I've got a lot of love to give. A lot. And I oughtta be giving it to myself. And I am. And it feels great.
But, y'know, a little romance could be fun. Damned hormones, they always cause trouble, don't they?
Ah, well, the curious steff is interested in the realm of possibilities, so we'll see what the cosmos has on the menu, and then maybe I might decline. An open mind and open heart, right?
This year, for Halloween, I'm being myself... in all my majesty. Great costume, huh? Have a good one, boys and girls. God knows I'm gonna.