I am always trying to explain my funks. And it hit me today, as I made plans with friends for spring break (might actually make it to Sub-Saharan Africa this time around!)
It’s been a year since I started making really bad decisions. TBH last year from January – end of September is a stretch of time I deeply and bitterly regret. It’s not like good things didn’t happen during that time. They did. I accomplished some goals.
But if I was balancing on a scale, the effed up decisions I made have had long-lasting impact. (Maybe I should be over it by now. But I am not, and since it’s my space, I will bitch and complain and reflect on it until I decide that I no longer wish to do so).
Anyway, I am a little sad because I had been doing well. But curiosity got the best of me this weekend and stared in the face of what I last year thought (foolishly) would not be something I would have to face. And I didn’t stand tall, unfazed; I crumbled worse than Fetta.
And once I crumbled with such ease, every insecurity, every doubt, every blame that I rightfully (and maybe even a few that I wrongfully) deserve just came in and set up house. In the end, I am not enough. Not for me and not for anyone else apparently. I am neither kind nor smart, nor important, no matter Viola Davis says (ha ha)….
proof of lack of kindness: karma is a bitch, so this must be for ish I pulled. proof of lack of intelligence: Well, honestl what’s saddest of all is how long is taking to figure this out. And lack of importance: I am writing a cryptic as hell post about some cryptic ish that no one else cares about or is dealing with but me….. sigh.
Sometimes I dryly says that if my life was a movie title it would be “a series of unfortunate events” and sometimes when I’m super bitter I add, starting with the holiday season in which I was conceived (well just doing some math as I was born in September, I figure the holiday cheer had a hand in my creation … never asked though… ha ha).
I wish I could do better. That I had done better, that I could be better. Not so much for anyone’s aggrandizement, but for my own. I’m not sure when I became a flagellite but here I am (writing blog posts instead of working 😕 ) back in the same rut of anger and frustration.
Like I said, I bitterly regret last year… right now it feels like the damage is irreparable. Or maybe I am just acknowledging this fact. But there are few things worse than feeling like the only thing that would help would be to jump into a time machine. I would warn my past self not to go to X or Y. To forget about Z. I would beat the optimism out of her and throw off her rose colored glasses and stomp them to bits. I would connect the dots better for her. I would show her the face of the future that I have seen.