I took my love and I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills. ‘Til the landslide brought me down… - Stevie Nicks
I reflect a lot. Not necessarily because I want to, but because my brain won’t shut off. Usually, I ruminate. Focus on everything I think I’ve done wrong. Do I take my kids for granted? Do I take Andy for granted? Should I be doing more with my life? Am I living my life to the fullest? I should exercise. I should spend less time on the computer. I should do more fun stuff with the kids. I “should” on myself all the time. I “should” all over myself.
Why is it that I tend to zone in on what I perceive I do wrong, instead of what I do right? I don’t know. I wish I knew. I wish I could shut off that negative inner monologue.
I think back on my life constantly. My twenties. Those are a blur. I made a lot of mistakes. They have names like “Jeff.” I was so naïve. Not so much anymore. It makes me sad, really. It kind of sucks once you’ve become disillusioned with the world. With men. With people. It took Andy a long time to knock down the brick wall I’d built around myself. There are still a few bricks there that just won’t budge. Someday.
When I met Andy, I was done with men. I needed a break. Had I known then that he was “the one,” I’d not have acted the way I did. I had a few hunches early on that he was different. He wasn’t like the rest. I pushed those thoughts aside and pushed him aside anyway.
I reflect on things like all the pointless and frivolous stuff I’ve spent money on. Tanning. Too much tanning. Clothes. Booze. Cigarettes. I have a feeling even if I could go back in time, I’d still spend money on all these things, and not in moderation. “Moderation” has never been in my vocabulary. I do everything in excess. I do excess in excess.
I look back on all the times I’ve been mean to myself. I am bipolar with a dash of generalized anxiety disorder and a pinch of borderline personality disorder. I rip myself apart. I’ve never physically harmed myself unless you count the splash of eating disorder. I subconsciously punish myself by not eating sometimes. I think it’s mostly the depression. I cannot eat when I’m depressed. I’ve never in my life thought I look good enough. Good enough for who or what? I don’t know.
This all sounds rather depressing, doesn’t it? Is there anyone out there, I wonder often, who reflects and the thoughts are positive? I’d like to learn how to do that. How to reward myself. How to be good to myself. I’ve been told I don’t love myself. To be honest, I think I love myself more now than I ever did. I’m learning. I think it’ll take a while before I fully get there. Can the child within me rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?
That’s something I can reflect on tonight.