Realizations from the road from Chicago...

sorry if this doesn't all flow right lol

Since my emotions kind of re-emerged a couple of years ago, the outward emotional expression for me seems to be crying, especially in cases when I am angry or frustrated.
I guess in some ways this can be explained in that since anger is such an intense emotion it has to be coupled with an intense reaction or release, ie: crying; but crying makes me feel weak and stupid. And when I cry when I am angry (or really any emotion besides sadness) then I just feel that much more weak and stupid because it seems like the crying says that I can’t control myself; and if nothing else, that is the one think I should be able to control…myself.
Every time I feel this incongruence, I begin feeling the urge to go back to him and to cut every single traitorous tear that dares to fall away from me. I have this reaction because of my belief about crying (in reference to myself anyway). I don’t know how I feel about crying when I am actually sad (when crying is warranted); but to cry at other times is strictly forbidden and to let it go unpunished feels like a crime.
78 days seems to appear farther and farther away with each day even though reality tells me that it is getting closer.
It’s stupid when regret builds for something I should be proud of….


I realized something this week. Even when I am sick I can become competitive very, very easily. If you didn’t know, I got really sick this week with the stomach flu while in Chicago. I had to miss the bulls game as a result. Anyway, I am getting a little off topic. Yesterday, when I started feeling a little better, I started looking back at my intake for the last couple of days. And as stupid as it was, I started comparing myself to my cousin who was also not feeling well. Now that I think about it, this could explain why I got really annoyed last night when I thought about dinner…logic was telling me that I should eat because I hadn’t eaten much before due to the illness; but on the other hand I kind of didn’t want to eat because we were going to eat Chinese which meant rice and probably fried food and part of my brain saw eating these things as a massive failure, which in turn lead to another compulsive urge; but anyway, off topic again.
I guess the point of this is to say that I was surprised to find that my compulsion to observe and count and compete did not take a back seat to being sick; in this case it almost seems as though the illness pushed that compulsion to the forefront.
I also realized last night, whether it showed or not (and I sincerely apologize if it dd), that when I became aware of this conflict of logical thinking and illogical drive; that I became angry in away, and it seemed that at least part of me was attempting to blame the situation or those around me for giving into the logical argument to sustain myself. I think part of the reason I tried to blame the situation rather than myself was because if I blamed myself, I would have to pay…and I didn’t have the courage to ask for the necessities I needed to ensure ‘safe’ payment . None of this really matters though in the long run really. I guess I will just end with I’m sorry I got competitive and I’m sorry if I seemed kind of bitchy last night (friday). I hope you know I am not like that and didn’t mean to treat you that way (if you recognized it)…..I just have issues.

What does a person do when they look around and realize that all their real dreams do not exsist anymore? Where do they get more dreams?

Sunday night sometime between 8 and 9, I came to the realization, that after all these years, I have finely lost my grip on all my real dreams. And it's kind of strange to me looking back, because I now see the reason for all the years of hiding and trying to be whatever it was that everyone was trying to get me to be or telling me that I should be. I realize now that my main reason for trying and for breaking my own heart because of the things that I tried to do to "fit" into the mold was because I thought that if I could fit and be what I was "supposed to be"; then maybe I could also hang on to my dreams as well. I once thought that maybe if I could just keep my dreams, to live them, that all the pain from stuffing myself into a mold and from knowing that no one I loved would ever truly know me would all be worth it.

But dispite my my efforts, nothing has come of it. It hurts sometimes to think that I shattered my heart for nothing. My world seems to have fall to pieces before my eyes; and though I see the slight possibility of a world beyond the shattered mess at my feet, I am not sure if or how I am able to make it to this new future (and maybe some new dreams as well).

This didn't really help me work through anything I don't think, but oh well