Running hot and cold until the water runs out
15 September 2011 12:50 PM Categories: Animal/vegetable/mineral
It's too much, this everyday posting thing, isn't it?
Especially with the stuff I've been putting up lately, with all its heaviness, its harshness, its demands to show the worst, the most insecure parts of me.
So, while I am posting today, I'll spare you my prompt, another dense little number that was too personal even in its hiddenness. What counts as too personal, you might ask the one who compulsively reveals all? When it involves certain people in my life. When I write it as a message to those people. There is no point and this is no way to communicate and there is nothing to communicate about and those concerned aren't even reading.
Door closed. Faucet off. A mind as light as a helium-filled balloon weighted down with rocks.
One thing is clear: I need to get a job, for my own sanity if for nothing else. I have to dust off the resume, or recreate it, and come up with a list of my skills that I've added in the last six years. I will be taking an online class that starts in early October, too, part of the preliminaries for the MFT (did I tell you that? I hope to become a marriage and family therapist, most likely focusing on children.). The class will be good, of course, and I'll take more classes. After looking over the graduate school application, I became concerned that my lack of any sort of counseling experience will mean I won't get in.
My initial reaction to this uncertainty was that the path ahead of me, low lit anyway, had gone dark. Still, there are other options and I have to press ahead. I'll carry a lantern, a flickering candle to illuminate my way. I have to believe that I can make it all work. I have to.
When you let yourself do things that are self-destructive, that are obviously bad for your spirit, for your authenticity, you bruise your soul. I spent a year of soul bruising. I took it to the pathetic edge until I finally walked away. I had to. I have to believe in myself and my experience, and my rightness for me, that who I am (despite the faults) with all my feelings and tendencies to confess, all my needs, is just fine.
And so ....
This is a mess, isn't it? But I'm putting it up anyway.
Especially with the stuff I've been putting up lately, with all its heaviness, its harshness, its demands to show the worst, the most insecure parts of me.
So, while I am posting today, I'll spare you my prompt, another dense little number that was too personal even in its hiddenness. What counts as too personal, you might ask the one who compulsively reveals all? When it involves certain people in my life. When I write it as a message to those people. There is no point and this is no way to communicate and there is nothing to communicate about and those concerned aren't even reading.
Door closed. Faucet off. A mind as light as a helium-filled balloon weighted down with rocks.
One thing is clear: I need to get a job, for my own sanity if for nothing else. I have to dust off the resume, or recreate it, and come up with a list of my skills that I've added in the last six years. I will be taking an online class that starts in early October, too, part of the preliminaries for the MFT (did I tell you that? I hope to become a marriage and family therapist, most likely focusing on children.). The class will be good, of course, and I'll take more classes. After looking over the graduate school application, I became concerned that my lack of any sort of counseling experience will mean I won't get in.
My initial reaction to this uncertainty was that the path ahead of me, low lit anyway, had gone dark. Still, there are other options and I have to press ahead. I'll carry a lantern, a flickering candle to illuminate my way. I have to believe that I can make it all work. I have to.
When you let yourself do things that are self-destructive, that are obviously bad for your spirit, for your authenticity, you bruise your soul. I spent a year of soul bruising. I took it to the pathetic edge until I finally walked away. I had to. I have to believe in myself and my experience, and my rightness for me, that who I am (despite the faults) with all my feelings and tendencies to confess, all my needs, is just fine.
And so ....
This is a mess, isn't it? But I'm putting it up anyway.
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