Heavy

“Though I live, yet am I not, since my sweet hazel-nut has fallen’ since my dear love departed, bare and empty is the dark world.” – Muireadhach Albanach, Irish Bardic Poetry

Sometimes grief is so heavy that it's hard to even breathe

After the death of a loved one, we no longer walk the same earth as everyone else. Part of us lingers at the frontier of death’s domain, looking into its unknown distance for signs that the soul is safely over, or for comforting messages that will assure us that we are not really, finally alone.

The sudden loss of someone vital to our life’s story means that our own story may be whirled out of context into total disorientation or petrified into a stasis wherein time no longer runs at the same speed as it does for others. Since every daily action, every piece of forward planning, necessitates the painful realization of how different life will be from now on, how lonely, how impossible, time and our progress through it alter our perceptions completely. Personally, I feel as if my perception has never been the same.

The world felt big, empty and dark for far too long.

Have I mentioned how much I love my job? I do very much and my favorite part is the few friendships I’ve made with folks who are healing from such an intense ordeal. A patient shared something written by his son that described knowing, but not wanting to acknowledge that his world would never be the same again. This part really hit me, “There, I felt that dark, dark little weight. It was in the corner of your heart, where what you find distasteful, what you hate, goes. I pushed it away, didn’t want to feel that weight, didn’t want there to be anything wrong.” On a brief side note, those words were written by a young teenaged boy. If you’re not amazed you should be.

I kept turning that passage over in my mind, struck by how he managed to capture that heavy sense of dread one feels with the loss of someone so integral to your own existence. I remember how I felt when I found my father dead. Even as a girl so young, I knew that something was wrong, something was about to turn my entire perfect world upside down and I was very upset. After beating the walls in an attempt to wake him I fell to the ground in an exhausted slump, crying. I felt so heavy. I felt that weight. I remember when I was told he was gone and I still couldn’t quite grasp the finality that he would no longer be there to sing to me, to hold me, to tell me everything would be okay.

I reacted similarly at his funeral. I just couldn't let him go.

As I was remembering these events in my life, I was walking with the hound through a cemetery near my apartment. It’s a beautiful place. I felt myself tear up. This time it wasn’t so much of a longing for my father, but a sadness I felt for that little girl who knew she would never experience that kind of unconditional love again – the little girl who was left alone in the world. I was grieving her experience.

I wish I could tell her that it will be okay. 

I noticed people around and quickly told myself to push those feelings down and bury them. I’m now slightly chiding myself for that. I was in a cemetery; people grieve there. Even if I wasn’t in a cemetery and needed to ball my eyes out, so be it. I don’t care if the world looks at me as if I’m a madwoman. I can’t live my life burying feelings forever.

As we continued walking a dog ran up to me that had a striking resemblance to Cassie. This made my eyes tear up again. She’s been on my mind lately. Such a sweet, beautiful little being that came into my life and changed it forever.

One of life's greatest gifts: My sweet little girl who never posed for the camera.

I keep reminding myself to stay in this present moment, reflecting gratefully on who is in my life here and now. The love of my life is a basset hound and I get the best greetings when I get home every day. I have friendships that I value and am learning to cut out what is emotionally and psychically damaging to me. I am close to my brother and know he’s always in my corner. My growing women’s hiking therapy group where we vent and let our dogs run free. And then there’s this guy who grieves as I do and we’ve spent our time encouraging and building up the other. The companionship he’s given me over the last few weeks is unique and meaningful.

Learning to treasure the memories instead of reliving them.

These are the things that deserve my focus. Of course those that have parted from my life are not forgotten, I’m simply making a conscious decision to remember them and simultaneously being done with grieving because my memories of them are what's important now - not that they are no longer in my life. I still hope to see them in the next one. 

The Mantle

“You never enjoy the world aright, till the sea itself floweth in your veins, till you are clothed with the heavens, and crowned with the stars.” – Thomas Traherne, Centuries

To re-experience the integration of ourselves with nature, we have to take ourselves out of our four walls and set our life-story in the context of nature’s terms. This means becoming especially aware of one area of the natural world – an area that is our listening place, an area where we tune out the old broadcasts of our separateness and return to the original station of the universal belonging. In the place we enter into a new relationship with nature, conducting a dialogue of one with the other, in which both parties speak and both listen to the other.

In this communion, a further state of belonging may be experienced – initially just in brief glimpses, then sometimes for longer and longer periods. It is the condition that poet and mystic Thomas Traherne speaks of: the temporary loss of our sense of identity, a softening of the hard boundaries that separate us from the tree and the animals, from the earth and the sunset.  In this condition, we experience ourselves as no different from nature or anything within it. we come into true relationships with nature in such moments, which strip away our hubris, our control, and our feelings of separation and bring us once more under the mantle of the universe.

I hadn’t felt that sense of connection with the natural world around me for some time. There are two possible factors, both with may fully or jointly responsible. Moving back to an area in which I feel safe and also am more encouraged to be outdoors because it’s lovely and because I know no harm will come to me, I can appreciate the beauty of the universe as I once did. The other factor would be my therapist’s suggestion that I go back on my medications. There are mixed opinions about this, some of which are upsetting to me.

To sum my therapists words that she spoke to me, “Taking medication is not a sign of weakness. You have suffered enough; don’t continue to suffer if there’s no need for it. Most people with your experiences don’t function as well and most are on medications for the rest of their life.” Much in like a stigma attached to mental illness, it strikes me that a stigma also exists for pharmaceuticals as well.

I get the impress this image comes to mind for most people when I mention medication. Sure, there's a deeper rooted issue that needs to be addressed, but I still need help to get there. 

I can get the stance of most anti-pharmaceutical folks. A person has to take one form of drug for diabetes and high blood pressure and the side effects of these medications are treated with other medications. At the root of it all, the person on such medications would likely be better off by adjusting their lifestyle. That would be a much simpler fix, but we’ve become an extremely lazy nation that seeks out the quickest fix to what ails us.

Because we understand so little of the human brain, I can’t say in confidence that lifestyle changes can eradicate something like schizophrenia, depression, bi-polar disorder, or even PTSD.  Sometimes it helps, but it doesn’t take the problem away entirely. We all certainly have phases in life where we experience depression and/or anxiety due to life stressors, but these are temporary for most and permanent for some.

We know that bleak feeling when it's hard to look up - but what about those who can never shake that feeling? How is that their fault? 

By dissecting my own personal experience with depression and PTSD, I can say that I often feel isolated, even though I’m far from it. I feel like I’m staring at the world through a glass bowl. Nothing feels real or genuine. I’m haunted by feelings I don’t want to feel and memories that I’d rather be long forgotten. It’s that voice in my head that plagues me with thoughts of unworthiness and self-loathing.  I feel like I’m both a prisoner and a jailer in my own mind and there are some days I struggle to force myself out of bed to face the world. I manage. Most of us do. However, anyone who has never personally experienced something like this will never truly understand. I am not weak or less than because I need a little bit of help. We don’t look to a person with cancer and label them as weak and unwilling to try harder to overcome their illness. Why is mental health any different?

We are all mad in our own right and as I've evolved in life I've learned that all of us are broken a little - we just aren't all willing to admit it and we all aren't willing to be compassionate to those in the throes of the worst days, either. 

I’ve had some people tell me my ailments can be cured by supplements and vitamins. By all means, if you know a tried and true method to cure or alleviate the symptoms of PTSD, please send it my way. From my own research on PTSD, I know that chronic, traumatic and stressful events physically affect certain areas of the brain in measurable ways. I know of nothing to bring the traumatized areas back to their original state, but I do know of things that are useful tools such as meditating and dancing. Unfortunately, I can’t spend my entire day immersed in these activities because I have to make a living like the rest of us.

"Change your thoughts. Change your frame of mind. Push through it and get over it." That doesn't happen over night. If only it were that easy. 

I also worry about my future. I’ve wanted a family and the medications I take are known to cause birth defects. What happens when I’m ready for that phase in life, should it ever come? Granted, I know that there are many ways to have a family and I’d be more than happy to adopt a child out of the foster care system when I have the means to do so. Additionally, this probably isn’t even something that should be on my list of concerns right now.

I’ve lost interest in feeling the need to prove my case to the rest of the world that medication is a necessary part of me not just being functional, but truly living as well. I went out for hikes this weekend and spent a lot of time among friends. I haven’t done that in a while because I was too busy making excuses for why I couldn’t be there and why I couldn’t do certain things. I spent the last few days just doing. Granted, there are a few things out of my reach at the moment, but I’ll find a way to get to them as well. For now, I'm grateful to once again be standing in the presence of the mantle, the oneness with the silence, the oneness with nature and the oneness with the universe. 

Just one of the many glorious things I've been missing. 

Dirty Faerie Creature

“Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” – Nelson Mandela

I’ve waited for some time to write about this because it really is wasted energy, but some things are far too amusing to not share . . . . and, on occasion, my rants can be comical.

I have an ability to genuinely connect with others from all walks of life and I pride myself in that. I want to understand others. I’m curious and compassionate and these characteristics show when I’m interacting with another person. This is one of the reasons I love my job so much. My patients are going through a very scary process that I’m only barely beginning to understand even a little. If I can offer them some form of solace during their time in our clinic by giving a warm smile, hug, or a listening ear, you betcha I’m going to do it. Given this aspect of my personality, imagine my frustration when I just can’t understand another person. At all. I’m consistently baffled by her.

My experience with her has been taxing, but I’ve learned a few things about myself through her antics.

Behold! A faerie creature. I was too afraid of what the word 'dirty' would add to my Google search.

She likes to call herself things like: Dirty Faerie Creature, Swamp Flower, Water Witch and Delicate Flower. I have never met another person who has so many creative names to call herself.  Personally, I will also refer to her as the Dirty Faerie Creature (DF) because that one in particular is my favorite. As I’ve interacted with her for almost a year, I’ve come to the conclusion that she is the textbook definition of a narcissist. Her ego is so over inflated I don’t know how her mind or soul makes room for it. Perhaps she has neither.

That was a horrible thing to say, but I said it.

Just from my own observation (and another co-worker) I can guarantee DF takes about five ‘bathroom’ breaks a day. She’s generally gone for at least 20 minutes because she cakes on more makeup and preens herself in the mirror. I have never met another woman so insecure that she has to spend that much time on her face.

She’s never on time to work. Not once since she’s been here. That among a few other things is a source of contention for me because she views herself in an elevated position and she is definitely the manger’s favorite – which is why he will never see several of my colleagues and I see.

DF once sent a 4 paragraph e-mail to a co-worker regarding said co-worker clicking her pen. I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to. I received a lengthy e-mail from her as well. It was several months ago. I kept trying to bring her something to process and each time I brought it she’d point out something else wrong with my paperwork. I remember thinking to myself, “Why not just tell me exactly what you need in one sitting without wasting my time with our frequent interactions.” It was frustrating. When I finally had it all arranged to the satisfaction of DF, I asked her if she needed anything else. Apparently that was a wrong question to ask.

She came into my office, my space and was literally in my face asking me what my problem was. As someone who frequently takes blame to avoid confrontation with this type of personality, I told her I was sorry I came across to her negatively; I didn’t mean to, had a lot of other things on my mind, etc. I then received a multiple paragraph diatribe stating that my apology wasn’t genuine and I was clearly being a bully and she needs a stable work environment.

Bam! Butting heads. No doubt about it.

Good grief. I bought her a plant as a peace offering because I knew she wanted one and secretly hoped it died. This was a good enough apology for the self-proclaimed Dirty Faerie Creature.

I was the first one to have this kind of encounter with her. My co-worker didn’t believe me until DF acted the same way towards her. DF did exactly the same thing, spinning it into my co-worker’s issue (because it could never have anything to do with DF’s actions) and sent her a very lengthy e-mail as well. This co-worker in particular is not easily angered and she was royally pissed about the entire ordeal.  The only good thing about it was that DF quit coming into our office, talking for 6 hours a day and neglecting all of her work.

Just one look at DF’s Facebook page can only lead to one conclusion: there is something wrong with her. I’ve never seen so many selfies, videos posted of her singing and this insanely bizarre one of her in a costume that lasts about five minutes and she’s mostly staring at herself in the camera. Sometimes I feel bad for her because that kind of behavior tells me that she’s lonely and I’m sure there’s a lot going on under the surface. My moments of sympathy are usually short lived because she approaches me to say something snarky when no one else is around to hear her do it.

I imagine underneath all of the self-absorption is a very tortured soul. 

She clearly needs help, but is too blinded by her image of having achieved the ultimate level of perfection to see it. I have done a lot of work in therapy. It takes an intense level of humility to reflect on your own psyche and behaviors. Humility isn't something DF possesses. That's not a dig at all, just an honest observation.

I just can’t understand people like DF. Her absolute favorite topic is herself and heaven forbid if anyone ever do anything better than her. She’s been biking to and from work for a while. She was upset when I started because I was putting in more miles. DF doesn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t adore her; she assumes they’re just jealous of her success and her beauty.

I admit she’s cute. Her soul, however, is not pretty at all.

This made me laugh too hard to not share. There's probably a special place in hell for me for this. 

I noticed that I began quitting meaningful things because I wanted to distance myself from her as much as possible. She does belly dance. I have put belly dance aside for a very long time. She likes Antony and the Johnsons. I didn’t listen to their music for a while – and I have always loved the singers poetic voice and words. She likes Rumi . . . . I was just at a loss for words. Then I had a bad dream about her spending time with a guy who I genuinely enjoy being around. Damn. It!! I wasn’t happy when I woke up.

I hashed this out in therapy last week. What was it about DF that caused me to dread being in her presence? Envy was definitely a part of the equation - and envy is an ugly and senseless emotion. She has expendable income and often does fun classes and workshops. She eats out daily. She goes on trips. I don’t have money for those kinds of things. The difference in what our positions pay is fairly substantial and my position has much more responsibility. It strikes me as backward and unfair. So, I have to remind myself again that I don’t really deserve anything and the world doesn’t owe me. Fairness has never really played out in life. I wonder why we believe in that construct at all.

It might be a Libra thing. There must be balance!!!

Another aspect to my dread was the feeling of walking on egg shells around DF because I never knew what was going to set her off into one of her fits. I also resent the blatant favoritism. It’s obvious and I’m not the only one who notices. I guess she’s good with politics, because she hasn’t blown up on anyone other than a handful of people because she knows it won’t come back to bite her.

My therapist asked me to think about it. What was it that DF represented to me? My therapist started listing things: double standard, two-faced personality, favoritism, etc. My work life is parallel to the home environment of my adoptive mother.

Transference. Check yourself, Lass. 

So there you have it. I’ve long acknowledged that my disdain for DF was my own issue; I just couldn’t get to the root of it. I have more work to do. Granted, DF will still grate on my nerves, but at least I can move forward knowing what my issues are and leave DF to her mirrors and makeup and hope I can reach a point where I can feel compassion and understanding for her. 

"There is a magnificent, beautiful, wonderful painting in front of you! It is intricate, detailed, a painstaking labor of devotion and love! The colors are like no other, they swim and leap, they trickle and embellish! And yet you choose to fixate on the small fly which has landed on it! Why do you do such a thing?" C. Joybell

Online Dating: A Perspective From The Irish Lass

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." - Rumi

I tried my hand at online dating. I decided I was ready for something wonderful and genuine and thought actively pursuing it was an excellent idea. In hindsight, that was a horrible idea and this has turned into one of the experiences in life that I've looked back on and asked myself, "What the hell was I thinking?!"

I went the wrong way at the crossroads. 

I developed my online profile as something sweet and simple with a generalization about my life and interests. My photos were flattering, tactful, and not provocative in any way, shape or form. No cleavage, no sultry poses; just a lot of smiling and a few photos of the hound. 

My inbox blew up. It was overwhelming when I'd log in every other day or so and have 50+ messages to sift through. I was beginning to turn into a shallow person. I started deleting messages without reading them because I couldn't possibly read all of that (and some of them were sickening, anyway). Anyone that looked like someone I wouldn't be friends with in real life was ignored. Pity. 

I ignored the shallow people and became one myself. 

I initially thought the process was brilliant because it allowed me to sift through men that came across as creepy, said inappropriate things, or were just too pushy. Why would I want to give you my number after an exchange of five messages?! I've never met you. I don't want to text you and I don't want you calling me, either. 

There's something wrong with my generation. We're all in a rush to the finish line. We want to connect. We want to love; but we don't want to make ourselves vulnerable. My own observation is that we're hungry for a genuine connection with someone, but still remain isolated and lonely. One of the major contributing factors is the veneer, the facade, the veil and all of the emotional barriers we put up in self defense. The internet perpetuates this problem. 

I see it more often than I'd like. A photo of some random and unsuspecting person goes viral and the rest of the world rips the person apart for being (by societal standards) unattractive, obese, fake, and my personal favorites: slut and whore. Because we're not stairng someone directly in the face there is no filter and the most judgmental, condescending and hateful words are spewed into the cyber world. Just because it can be done; just because we have something to hide behind so we feel emboldened to say whatever we want to knock someone down only to make ourselves feel better about our own insecurities and mundane lives. What the hell is wrong with us?! 

Either grow a pair or be kind to others. That's all I have to say. 

Considering that this trait seems to be tailored to my generation specifically, I've come across a lot of unfiltered words. The men with whom I've exchanged dialogue thus far don't handle rejection well. I've been called a snob, someone with major wounds to heal because I wasn't interested in sex, a flake, a bitch and someone deserving of rape because I have a bad attitude. I feel as if I've been introduced to the worst side of humanity and it was beginning to make me a very jaded person. I don't want that for myself. 

It's not just the harshness and cruelty; it's the misrepresentation of oneself and a blatant disregard for the feelings of another human being. I still can't wrap my mind around how we've evolved to be this way. 

Oh yes . . . crying because I felt unlovable, flawed and wondered what the hell was wrong with me. The answer? Nothing. Nothing at all. 

I eventually dreaded even checking my inbox, so I shut it down. I'd rather keep my sanity, thanks. A friend asked me last night why I don't just meet someone the old fashioned way. Does that even happen anymore?! So . . . meet someone at work? Granted, it's a very large organization, but I'm generally running from one thing to the next and don't have time to look into the dating field while I'm working. It just strikes me as wrong and a bad idea. 

The other option would be tango. There are currently a few issues with that. I won't be able to afford those outings for a while because money is too tight and that's what happens when one moves twice in less than 6 months and puts her dog first (he will always come first). My current hours don't really allow for me to have much of a night life because I have to be up so early. Lastly, I don't want to be a part of the polyamorous sect. That's just not in me. I'm not saying every tango dancer lives that kind of life, but I do know it's prevalent in a few crowds and I want no part of it. 

Polyandry aside, tango is pretty awesome. I look forward to returning when I can. 

It's even been suggested that I look for someone with money. I sincerely hope they were joking. In fact, I've even had a few propositions along those lines when I was a bombshell in my early 20's. For the love of all that is sacred and holy, that is the most shallow bullsh*t I've ever heard. I know people do it. I can't. I'd resent the guy. I'd resent myself. I'd personally rather live in a van down by the river, or under a bridge, or pitch a tent or something. I won't be bought or owned. 

Where do these people come from?

The darker side of humanity I've witnessed lately hasn't just been in the dating world, either. I purchased a dog house off of craigslist. I had no means to pick it up and the guy was kind enough to deliver it for me. Over e-mail exchanges he sent me boudoir photos. I'm no longer thinking that was an accident. I've been trying to pin him down to pay him and he only responds with e-mails about him being in the hot tub and sipping wine. Just let me pay you, guy!! I'll admit I'm slightly concerned because he knows where I live. What creeps me out is that he's never met me in person because I wasn't at home when the dog house was delivers. The only photo he's seen of me is on my gmail profile . . . and I'm wearing Minnie Mouse ears and huge cat like sunglasses. There is nothing provocative about that photo. 

I've been asking myself lately what the hell is wrong with the world and why everything in my life is broken, chaotic, or bizarre. I've been hearing a lot about Mercury in retrograde. Mercury is wrecking my life!! I was out with friends last night and one of them told me (regarding my recent interactions with the male population) it's just because I'm young and beautiful. I thanked him for the compliment and he laughed over my dread of turning 30. I know I'm not seeing the bigger picture right now. I know I shouldn't be so harsh on myself. I have to go back to repeating my mantras of saying positive things about me until I believe them. 

My therapist has some good insight on this recurring phenomenon in my life: I'm too trusting and there's something about the type of trauma I've experienced that is buried deep in my unconscious on a level that I'm not aware. It's like a freaking radar to others who have experienced harsh blows in life. Unfortunately, these just happen to be people that aren't trying to deal with their issues and instead project them on others. 

I'm gradually getting back into my ritualistic form of spirituality. I finally put my alter together last night. Falling asleep to my candles burning was comforting and being back in nature on a regular basis is soothing. Making room in my studio apartment for belly dancing is my next task. I'm still semi-living out of boxes. I still can't find things. It's still chaotic, but I'm beginning to feel a sense of peace; and I'm reminding myself I'm exactly where I should be. 

Playing with scarves and glittery things?! You betcha. I'll move like no one is watching (because no one will be watching - this is mine). 

Peering into the Looking Glass

“Without reflection, we go blindly on our way, creating more unintended consequences, and failing to achieve anything useful.” – Margaret J. Wheatley

To be honest, I can hardly remember the details of this past week, let alone the month that preceeded it. I’m so tired and doing my best to not let my thoughts get ahead of me to the point I’m drowning in a river of tears and anxiety. One thing at a time. I’ve got this.

Stagnancy is overrated. 

I’m attempting to unpack from what was possibly the most rushed and disorganized move I’ve ever experienced – but ultimately this move was necessary. After only a week of living in my new place I’m beginning to feel better. The last apartment and the environment around it was a psychological and spiritual drain. Amazing how much of an effect environmental factors have on one’s overall well-bring. Of course, this isn’t new news to me – but I guess I never really understood it until this last experience, this past chapter in life, this phase that feels somewhat like a mildly bad dream.

I did spend a few nights with my folks during the transition. It hadn’t even been five days and my mother and I were already drawing our daggers. No surprise there. I’ve wondered lately if she and I both are showing each other reflections of the other and neither one of us like what we see and that’s why we rarely get along.

This is about right - we just don't manage to do it gracefully.

I stopped worrying about reaching another decade in my life. I was out on a hike yesterday and realized I will never be here again. I can’t turn back the clock and probably the healthiest thing I can do for myself when I’m frustrated and giving myself a mental beating for not achieving what I think I should have is to remind myself that I will never be at this place in life again. I have wasted most of my life beating myself up for not being thin or pretty enough. Good lawd! What a waste of energy. That’s the pettiest, most superficial thing and it doesn’t deserve my attention. I have a plethora of other things that actually bring joy to me; my energy needs to be there, not spent tearing myself apart. I’m not going to mourn the years of wasted on these antics, either. I’ll just acknowledge what I’ve learned from the experience and move on.

It's not so daunting now that it's finally happened.

30. I’m okay with that. I think it was time for a fresh start. This move has given me one and I fully intend to start shaping my life into something that I want it to be instead of allowing things to just happen. That’s no good. Granted, things still do happen. I can’t control my bike and car breaking down on me, but I can control what kind of influence I allow into my life.

“Everyone and everything that shows up in our life is a reflection of something that is happening inside of us.” – Alan Cohen

I bought a dog house off of craigslist. The seller was kind enough to deliver it for me while I was tied up with the move and my family’s insistence on celebrating my 30^th birthday. We exchanged a few e-mails discussing delivery, payment, etc. He asked me about my gmail profile photo which is something of me in Minnie Mouse ears that I took while at Disneyland. He then asks me if I have ever taken boudoir shots because it’s exciting and attached a couple of his own. They’re artsy, I get it . . . .  .but that’s just plain weird. So now I’m just trying to pin him down so I can pay him for Merlin’s new house and it became apparent to me that I might have been too much of a damsel in distress over this past week because it may have given him the wrong message. That type of behavior attracts a certain kind of person and it’s generally not a good one. Or, maybe he sent them unintentionally. Hopefully that’s what really happened.

I'm pretty sure I've done this at least once in my life. 

I knew a couple of weeks ago that I needed to put dating back on the shelf for a while. It took me a while to get to my online account to shut it down. A guy started messaging me as I was doing just that. I was honest with him: I have too much going on and currently don’t have the time or emotional space to be dating material. I’m not interested. His response was that I could possibly use a friend and we should text. Sure. I could use someone to talk to right now . . . . that was a stupid move.

It wasn’t long before he started asking me about sexuality and I had to tell him again I’m not in the space for this and couldn’t be what he wanted anyway because I’m still working on some deeply rooted issues. Of course, this lead to more questions and like an idiot I answered them. Note to self: strangers don’t deserve personal truths, or personal history and really have no business asking about it. I didn’t give him a whole lot of detail, but he probably knows more about me than he should. Then he dropped a bomb on me about being in an incestuous relationship with his aunt and thoroughly enjoying it. From my experience in a course on anthropology, I can understand how that could happen. On that note, TMI, Dude. TMI.

The anonymity of being online is a major issue with how people interact with one another.

I received more texts from this random stranger last night that were unwanted with fairly inappropriate content. I told him again that I’m not ready for something like this and the more exchanges we shared it was becoming clearer to me that we weren’t compatible. Of course this damaged his fragile little ego and his responses were vulgar and mean: I’m the one with issues, I have a bad attitude and how sad it is that the only men I’ve ever had have raped me and he could understand how that happened because my attitude is that bad. Holy Fuck! What the hell?! So I was upset because that was unnecessary, untrue and hurtful. I went to bed and woke up feeling better. Slightly angry, granted, but better.

I have to take my own advice sometimes and remember to look forward. My brief encounter with some random person is insignificant. I won’t dwell on it. What matters is moving on from this past month, not shutting the world out as much as I want to and allowing love in my life. I have to start with myself first. So I’ll resort back to my tried and true method of telling myself I’m wonderful, amazing, lovely, etc. I’ll believe it eventually.