The Social Network

I tend to be hard on myself.  This is something that should not come as a shock to anyone who knows me, or who reads this blog.

But there is one thing I do really well. And that thing is making friends.  I have the knack of filling my life with exceptional people. This of course excludes the men I am attracted to who, by in large, are complete crap. But that’s another blog entry… or therapy session.

But aside from a few bad seeds here and there, the friends who have come into my life are typically amazing. I tend to find the most loyal and interesting types you can find.

The thing is I do get hard on myself. I feel lonely, and sometimes I even am really tempted into dwelling in my own falsely perceived misery.  But then I look around and I realize that I am not alone. I have a beautiful network of people who choose to have me in their life.

And the sad truth is that life is often ugly and painful, but having a good support group surrounding you helps soften the blows that this world puts us threw. 

Musing on Mistakes

I am stronger than the mistakes I make.

This is proven to me time and time again.

I do a lot of foolish things. A lot. Sometimes I do so many foolish things that I begin to feel like I am the most flawed person on the planet. But I am stronger than these things I do. I know it.

The truth is everyone makes mistakes. Some of these mistakes are monumental, painful or just flat out stupid.  But we keep pushing on; we pick ourselves up and head forth into our next adventure. The hope being that we are all the wiser for it, that we have learned from the errors that we made, and we have become better humans.

So that is what I am doing. I am learning to be stronger than the really stupid things I have done, and using them to my advantage.

After all, even though I make mistakes, I also step into some good decisions too from time to time.  And for now I’m holding on to that.

Distraction and Dessert

As we grow older we become more self-aware (or at least that is the hope). This awareness is supposed to make us more fully realized human beings.

What no one ever tells you is that this awareness can also suck. That’s right, looking at oneself in the metaphorical mirror can really be brutal at times. Now I get it, we have to see our problems in order to change them. But dang it, sometimes it is really hard to look at those flaws. I don’t know about you but there are things about myself that I really don’t want to know.

For instance, I have been grappling with the fact that I don’t always deal with frustration or disappointment in my life directly. This has proved problematic over and over again. There is something very healthy about taking things head on, facing them and working through them. I don’t do this. My tactic avoids them as long as possible until I act out in often-destructive ways in different aspects of my life.

For instance, say you really wanted a fudge Sundae, but you cannot have a fudge Sundae, so instead of dealing with the fact that it is not available to you, you eat all the deserts that you didn’t really want. These desserts taste bad, and are completely sub-standard, but they are there and they are available. They serve as a distraction, until you have a tummy ache and are still have the longing for the thing you originally wanted.  This principle is how I operate in my life. It gets pretty ugly.

But I guess knowing these things about oneself is the first step to change, and change I must. I refuse to settle for a stale cookie, when I deserve a Sundae.

I also made another discovery… writing a blog when one is hungry is not the best idea.

The Social Recluse

When I was a little girl there were few things I dreaded more than the party invite. The idea of being trapped at a friend’s birthday celebration was enough to cause my child’s heart to sink. And if it was a slumber party forget about it. The result of these invites would lead me inevitably into a fight with my mother, she could not understand why her daughter was so reluctant to go and have fun.

The thing was, it was not fun for me. It was an exercise in social torture. I would get so anxious being around all the other kids that I would inevitably say or do something stupid (or at least thought I did). I often left these parties feeling as though I had embarrassed myself in some unredeemable fashion. Sure there were moments were I really did have a good time, but typically I had worked myself up so much prior that my adrenaline (and even more dire my bowels) would keep me from really enjoying myself.

So I found that reading alone in my room was a far more desirable use of my time.  This past time kept me safe from making a fool of myself, though it did have the side effect of loneliness. This was a very hard thing to reconcile as a child; in fact it is a very hard thing to reconcile as an adult.

I have become far better in social situations as a grown up type person, but the socially anxious side of me lives on, despite some of my best efforts to eradicate it. And I feel like this is a season where my deep down hermit is reemerging with a vengeance.

Believe me when I say that I truly do enjoy the company of family and friends. I like spending time with people that I care about. But I have found that events with lots of people, even those that I love, tend to be extremely draining for me. And if there is an event with a lot of people I don’t know then I become so over stimulated and worked up, that all I can think about is how to get out of the situation as soon as possible.

I know that being an anti-social recluse is not an option. And to be honest too much time in my own company would probably make me certifiable.

But I know there has to be a balance (one I have not found yet). I mean, it’s got to be ok to be a bit of a homebody right, to like to be alone from time to time?

Of course the flip side is, if it’s fear that is driving my anti-social behavior than that’s something to be examined. I have spent too many years allowing fear to dictate my actions. When one does that it severely impairs their quality of life. I know this from first had experience.

I don’t know, I guess I am just looking for the happy medium. A point were I find the right balance between my social side, and my hermit side. If and when I find it, you will be the first to know dear readers. 

Closet!

For the longest time I have had a great deal of difficulty getting rid of things. The problem has been so sever that I have often wondered if I was a hoarder. But recently I discovered it’s not my need to keep things around me that has caused my possessions to pile in obscene amounts, no it’s my inability to sort and organize.

The fact that I would rather let things pile up than sort them truly came to a head when I moved into my current apartment. You see, in my room I have a decent sized closet, one that I was ecstatic about in the beginning, but soon became the preverbal thorn in my side.

I had no idea how to efficiently use the space, so I found myself just piling things in the closet in a haphazard manner. The closet that I was so excited about in the beginning became the bane of my existence. I found that trying to pick my outfit for the day became a weird act of masochism.  A continues stream of profanity could be heard coming from me as socks and belts fell on my head from the precarious perches they sat on.

However, the anxiety I had from living with the overstuffed closet was trumped by the anxiety I felt when I would think about actually sorting through and organizing the monstrosity.  So there I was trapped under brutal landslide of earthly objects and self-loathing associated with my inability to sort and discard them.

Enter my mother. She decided in an act that was purely altruistic to help me organize my closet. Of course I met this kindness in an adversarial way because well, I am a brat.  And sharing my mess with anyone does have the side effect of raising my blood pressure. Of course after getting through the initial discomfort we began to make lots of headway.  After a few hours of really concentrated effort my closet became something so beautiful that words cannot describe it.

I cried.

Yes as embarrassing as that is, I cried because I had an organized closet.  It is the first time I have ever had that. I mean there have been times were I have made things appear neat, only to realize upon closer inspection that there still was no rhyme or reason to object placement. But now everything has an actual home. And there is a reason for the home. Space is utilized with purpose. This may seem like such a silly thing to my hyper organized, type A friends out there, but for me this is extremely new and so liberating.

In fact having my closet so neat actually drove me to purge lots of things, and clean up the rest of my room. I have kept it this way for a week, and it’s been pretty easy since everything has a place and there is a place for everything!

It’s yet to be determined if I can keep this up long term, but right now I am hopeful that I can, and that is the best Christmas gift my mom could have given me.

Year In a List

So as the year is closing I can’t help but feel a bit reflective.  And in this spirit of reflection I thought I would make a list, not unlike the one I made for my last birthday. So here it is, my 2011…

I made lots of new friends.

A play I wrote was produced thanks to an amazing friend.

I cried a lot.

I laughed more.

Wore a canary yellow dress.

I moved into an apartment with dudes!

Started writing my Thesis.

Taught my first undergraduate class. 

Watched some good movies.

Watched some painfully bad movies.

Started using mass transit on a regular basis.

Lost a very dear friend.

Wrote some bad poetry.

Had a crush or two.

Drank more than one glass of wine.

Danced some, not nearly enough.

Made some bad decisions.

Said goodbye to my twenties.

On occasion stopped and smelt a rose or two.

Fixed a Fridge.

And started a Blog!

Stuffed Turkey!

I have fallen victim to one of the more obscene of holiday traditions. One that I am sure has been occurring in spades all across this great nation of ours.

That’s right, I have been eating way too much. I have over indulged in ways that should be outlawed. I’ve had so many sweets that Buddy the Elf himself would get a tummy ache. And don’t get me started on the cheese consumption.

It really is an absurd thing, the way we eat, and eat and eat during this time of year. There is something truly disturbing about it. I find myself feeling guilty about the decadence, especially when so many go without.

I can’t help but think that if we were a little less indulgent, and a little more mindful of what we are sticking in our face, that we would feel better during the holiday season. And if we felt better, we could enjoy each other more.  After all the holidays are stressful enough without poisoning our systems with toxic foods.

Of course this is coming from a person who has saturated her body with seasonal treats, and is sick of them. Come next year when this time rolls around, I could forget how ill I’m feeling now and happily jump back into the holiday binge once again.

But until then, I think I need to eat a salad.