It's fascinating — well, maybe disappointing would be more precise — that a person (I) can live to a significant age (longer than my grandmother, nearly as long as my father, twice as long as my sister, 20 years longer than a best friend, and on and on) and still be hit in the face some days with the same feelings I had when I was 12 or 8 or 17 or 26.
This is a brief "true confessions" post, one I write to clear my head and then, I hope, get a good night's sleep. It's 3:22 in the morning. I had a bad day. To be honest, although I haven't told you, it hasn't been an easy month. Much of it is, I know, wrapped up in the fact that my sister's birthday is coming up in a few days. And she's not here (on this earth) to celebrate it. She hasn't been here for a long time.
September can sometimes be a difficult month for me to get through. This one, although exciting, finds me a bit up in the air. So, this one has been a bit more emotionally charged.
Yes, at the bottom of it all, I am happy. I love this new life we're creating in Spain. I love the challenges, the excitement, the change. I especially love, more than anything else, the fact that I'm here — doing anything — with Jerry. I know how fortunate I am. And, right now, I'm very grateful to Jerry for helping me get through a rough afternoon.
The thing is, although I am grateful, excited, loved, in love, challenged, and in the middle of an unbelievably amazing new adventure with someone who never for a moment bores me, I have moments where I'm reminded that I still don't really like myself much.
I have spent much of my life not feeling quite good enough. Well, now THAT'S an understatement. The truth is, I have a challenge some days liking myself at all. Yesterday was one of those days. Like I said, I'm very grateful to Jerry for helping me get through.
I'm feeling better, as I hoped I would, just writing this little bit. I'm not, as my mother would probably suggest, "fishing for compliments." I'm just getting the feelings of self-loathing out of my head. I come from an extended family of — for the most part, — talented, successful, attractive, over-achievers. Much of my childhood was spent being reminded of that. I learned in recent years that many in my extended family have suffered some of the same feelings. I have not always wanted to be one of them and, at the same time, I have ALWAYS wanted to be one of them. Sometimes, it just addles my brain. So, when emotions are running high, as they do in September and as they have especially this September, I am hit in the face with the fact that I still don't like myself much, that I'm just not good enough. There it is.
So, now I'll go back to sleep having cleared my head. Maybe this public admission will help long-term. I wonder if I'll ever be old enough to be good enough. But, obviously, age has nothing to do with it.