Le Roi se Mort

I feel a little frustrated with myself, always waking up at sunset.

Beyond that, I actually feel alright today. I had no burning thoughts from my past standing angrily in the way of sleep, and I don’t remember any specific nightmares that I ran from into wakefulness.

So, good morning.

I’ve been taking melatonin before bed, as I do on all of my days off if I remember. It’s important for chemical reasons that I won’t go into again, as I’m pretty sure by now I know cold (although I really have to get back to studying. I’m pretty sure that my nocturnal nature doesn’t help my vitamin D deficiency, so it’s important that I take the top down approach and eat all the related chemicals that I’m probably not producing without this key ingredient.

Every morning, while still in bed, I say aloud to myself a very encouraging phrase. These are the first words that I say, so I figured they should be good ones.

I greet this day with hope, vigor, and strength.

This day holds new opportunities, which I look forward to exploring.

me

It’s not much I know, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s long enough to get across a tiny bit of meaning, and short enough that I’ll actually remember it, and stick to it. And it gets me out of bed.

Anyway, rather than just poke around in the dark closet that is my past, I’m actually thinking about what I should do to move forward. And I realize that this is probably going to make this the most unexciting blog post so far… I’m cool with that. Like I said, I’m not just another sad girl on the internet.

So, I’m thinking about the day ahead. I should probably try connecting to the outside world in a healthier and more meaningful way… perhaps call some of my more academic friends to get me energized, reach out to some of my research, business, and aspirationally professional (there we go, *almost* talking about work again) to see what I can do with my life.

I touched on morning habits and moving forward, and I feel like that’s the right direction to go right now, and probably useful for me to lay out again as I have not, despite having nothing but time to do so, stuck to it. I have these listed in my notebook (oh yes, I’m still into the paper thing as well) as maintenance goals.

  • I will write 5-15 professional emails a week (I have not done this, but I keep trying)
  • Workout 3x a week (I am on medical leave so I have an excuse)
  • drink a veggie shake daily (I’m almost doing this, but I’ve been having a hard time making through the entire shake…)
  • 1 blog post and mailing list a month for…. there it goes again, the mystery job
  • 1 photo shoot a month. You’re not going to see any of those, not here.
  • 1 email to a family member a month

These goals, and any conversation concerning my future plans, are probably much more identifying than anything from my past. I’m thinking about why this is, and I think I’ve teased out my point for the day despite my initial unremarkable impressions.

My past is not who I am.

My asshole Father

While I’ve had this hammered into my head over and annoyingly over again by yes, my asshole Father as my *only* reason that I should forgive him for being a complete asshole in every way imaginable. Every fucking way. I should just forget it right now, because he said so, because the past is behind us all, and wow, he’s fucking changed! When? Right now of course, immediately after he’s drained my bank account or whatever the fuck he just did. Then snap, changed. All that’s in the past, now. Don’t bother bringing it up, he is is not his past and it’s no longer relevant to him.

But for one fucking second in my life, I don’t want this to be about *him*.

I suppose I must admit to myself, and I’ve never said it to anyone *or* myself, but I’ve got some pretty deep daddy issues. And just like everything else in my life apparently, I take the most normal issue and stretch it out into something so strange that no human alive can possibly relate to me.

Ok, so I date older men. That’s pretty par for the course, and actually not an altogether unhealthy thing to do. Really, who among the female population isn’t after a man with more money, already housebroken, and generally has his shit together?

Oh, but wait. Maybe I’m really after a man so damaged by his previously failed attachments that he can’t possibly be interested in me beyond an object of aspiration, a temporary distraction from all that is, and a flickering spark of fantasy shedding a light on what might have been, if they hadn’t completely fucked up their own past? Watching them struggle through their own attachment issues kind of makes me feel better about mine.

I want someone to ignore me, while admiring me, the way my Father does. I want to see what a person sees in me when they don’t know me, like my Father does. And maybe I can be a good person for long enough, or at least look like it, for long enough that I can trick them into loving me. The way my Father doesn’t.

And of course, the inevitable failure. I don’t want to be anyone’s failure. I just want to be one in a long line of brief romances, I just want to be a good story that he brings up on the 5th date with his next girlfriend.

This is aspirational, of course. I honestly have never been single, not during my adult life. For a person as noncommittal as I want to be, I’ve actually been in a solid relationship for most of my life. One, and now another one.

I can’t believe I ever did that. Also, I can’t believe it’s over. Is it over? Maybe I should message my ex again and find out. I haven’t checked our running messenger log for a bit, probably a week or two. I haven’t seen him in a really, really long time. He was the closest thing I ever had to a person who knew me, so honestly I can’t blame him for hating me. I wonder if he feels the same way. I wonder, if he did, if he’d ever admit that to me.

This hurts, and I want to stop, but I’m not done my coffee yet and I’m trying to stick to the rules of this torture I’ve designed for myself. This hurts, but I guess it was supposed to. I realize that it hurts constantly, and writing about it isn’t making it hurt more… or less. However, hiding from things is not the habit I want to have in my life.

I’ve been trying not to just make this a standard sad girl blog, but maybe I should just acquiesce into my actuality.

And this was feeling like it was going to be a *good* day.

It still is, actually.

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