C'est La Vie

There's something to be said about the written word. For me, I can spend an hour in therapy and feel pretty good about myself afterward. But there is really nothing like purging my thoughts and feelings on to the page, whether analog or its digital counterpart.

Writing is like a muscle, you need to work it out on a regular basis in order to have any success in doing so; whether that be writing in a journal or writing for prose. Sadly, I fear it has been so long since I have flexed that muscle, it's almost like a foreign process to me. So forgive me if this is a little hard to get through on your end. You can take some comfort in knowing it's doubly hard for me on this end of the facsimile. 

What has been going on with me you ask? Two weeks left in the school year, which can't end soon enough I might add! It's been a year of learning and growing. My sessions have been reduced to only once a month, as opposed to every other week. I found myself not really knowing what to talk about at the more frequent interval, that means I'm getting better...right?

I've pledged myself to losing weight this summer, I'm tired of feeling and looking the way that I do. I know I'm missing out on things because of it, or at least that's how I feel about it. I look at pictures of myself when I was in my prime, and it saddens me that things have gotten to where they have. 

Dating is a non factor at this point in time. I haven't been on a date in what seems like ages. It's not that I'm trying to actively seek a mate right now, but there are times I get lonely pangs. I miss small things, a hug, a hand-hold, or even just a simple text. I miss feeling wanted. But there are times in which I am happy to be by myself. Would I really want someone to be dragged, unknowingly into the maelstrom that is my life? But maybe that's just me making excuses for myself. Time will tell.

I don't know what it is about friends. I am content with the people I choose to have in my life, though I know I deserve much more than what is given to me in return. I've been told as much anyway. I think I'm afraid to strike out on my own to the wilderness that is the social scene and expose myself to the flora and fauna in order to get new people in my life that are worth it. However, when it comes to select persons, I fear it will always be a revolving door. They know just the way to talk to me, just the right sequence of buttons to push in order to get me to interact with them. I know what they want. They want me to be available to make them feel wanted, like I was a lifetime ago. But at what point to I bar their entry to my life and keep them at arms length in order to save myself from the perpetual cycle? 

Hey now, look at that. A half-decent entry, let's make this a more regular occurrence. Shall we? 

Build That Wall

I dig my hole, you build a wall...

Nine days short of being a full year, I return. To what? Not really sure, but I think it's time that I start putting pen to paper (or finger to key) and start seriously writing again. Not only is it good for my mind, it's good for the way I express myself.

I looked back on the posts I made a year ago. While some things have changed, many have not. The relationships I have with friends are a little better, and some are not. Friends have come and gone, I've tried to keep in contact with the ones who have gone, but what is the point? Maybe that's just being pessimistic about it. But if they really wanted to be friends with me, it wouldn't be so one-sided, right? I guess I'm fine with the core group of people I spend time with, but something has me yearning for more. More what? I'm not sure. But it feels like there is a person sized hole deep down, and I don't know if it will ever be filled. I guess it's telling that the person I talk to most on a day-to-day basis lives in Tennessee...

While I may have a few friends, I feel I don't have companionship. I'm not saying that I need a romantic relationship, or that I need to have that part of my life figured out by now. But companionship would be nice to have. The kind that I don't have to be mindful of expressing myself, or the kind that really cares about me. I've expressed it, at times, as having the feeling of wanting to be around someone whom I care about, and the feeling is reciprocal. There's something to be said about mutual affection, whether that be romantic or otherwise.  I guess what I'm trying to get across is, I need a hug.

I've been thinking a lot about what my creative outlets have been. I came to the quick realization that I don't have many, if any at all. Within the past year I've come to really enjoy cooking. I look at it as creating something. The feeling I get when people eat, and enjoy something that I've prepared is something that I cannot put into words, but it's almost got a feeling of transcendence about it. It brings me to a level in which I am, for the moment, okay with things. But in the next, it makes me strive to make something better, something more challenging. I've seriously considered going to cooking school, as it's something that I don't abhor the thought of, but is that a flight of fancy that will never come to fruition? I guess only time will tell.

This is all excluding the biggest change at all in the fact that my mother is no longer with her partner of 18 years. I could fill journals and journals about how I feel about this, but I'll save that for another entry. I guess this is the carrot that will get me to write more in this thing.

I should write more, that was nice.