The Human Brain Is… Odd.

Or perhaps it’s just my brain…

Have you ever had something on the calendar that you forgot about, and when you were reminded of it, even though it’s something you know you want to do, still feel less than… enthusiastic about it?

Silly, right?

What person needs to be reminded of why they want to hang out with their friends?

Why does unexpected change disturb me so much?

Why do I have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, from my house to go have fun, only to have a blast and not want to leave once I’m actually there?

What’s causing all this mulish anxiety? 

Regardless, I’ll be out having fun this weekend, even if it kills me. 😛

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Confessions (Part 19)

In my last post, I spoke of your priceless gift to me.  This post is also about gifts, but it’s about my gift to you.

My gift to you is my honesty.  I won’t pretend to be something I’m not in order to get likes, comments, or follows from you.  I won’t try to make money from your visit to my attic.  I won’t pepper you with Adwords or Affiliate links, and if I recommend something to you, there will be a real-world, non-financially based motive for it.  I don’t see any of you as cash cows, future paychecks, or anything other than my silent tribe of support and acceptance.

Now, I make no promises about SS, but this blog is ad free, incentive free, affiliate free… and it will remain so.

Namaste & Blessed be!

Confessions (Part 18)

The things I write about here are personal.  Some of them, I can’t accept myself for sometimes, and the way this series began… let’s just say that I’m not highlighting my good side.  Maybe I was testing you.  Maybe I was testing me.

I basically just reached inside and pulled up the worst feeling thing I had done, and exposed it.  I don’t know why yet.  I didn’t know why then.

I simply followed my impulses where they led me.  No preconceived notions, no expectations of where this would lead.

One thing I never expected, though (you guys surprised me, for sure) was the silence.  The experience of exposing my deepest, darkest, ugliest moments… and there was silence.

Then it happened.

Someone followed me, but silently.

One by one, you have come, read, and followed, in silence.  Neither encouraging nor discouraging me with your words, just allowing me to express what I need to in mine… and in doing so, you have expressed an acceptance of who I am more deeply than words from any comments on any blog I’ve ever written.

For that reason, I have now disabled the comments on this blog.  Not because I don’t value your responses (had there been any), but because your silent acceptance has been a priceless gift for me, one which I almost missed out on completely, because I was beginning to get discouraged by the silence… 

Thank you for your gift to me.

Confessions (Part 17)

My last post may leave some of you wondering why I even have this blog public.  Where is your value here?  Why have I let you in to this space of mine?

Allow me to explain…

The reason I have made this personal space of mine public, the immeasurable value which you, my silent readers, offer to me can be summed up in one word;

Acceptance.

Confessions (Part 16)

Whew.

Life got busy on me for a bit.  I hope everyone had a safe, fun-filled holiday (those who enjoyed a holiday this past weekend).

One of the problems with having two blogs where you write about your own life often is that, sometimes you’re not quite sure where to post something.  Where it will have the most… impact.  I think the topic on my heart today belongs over on SS, so I’m slightly flummoxed (I love that word… gobsmacked is another favorite) as to what to write about here.

Though it appears that I have chosen to write about having nothing to write about… and I’m going to be okay with that.  People have started to follow this blog, so I can feel some pressure to please you (the reader), even though, up to this point, each of you followed me for your own reasons, because I haven’t been writing for you, I’ve been writing here for me.  It’s been raw, it’s been honest, it’s been frequent… but it’s been for me… but somehow, it’s called to some of you… and if I allow myself to give in to that pressure, to start writing for those who read, versus she who writes, this blog will just become another SS.  The Lunatic Twin will get shut back into the attic, and that simply will not do.

I love each one of you… and I am thrilled to pieces you find value in my words, but the greatest value this blog has for me in this moment is the space it holds for me to be me.  

Ugly. Wounded. Raw. Wild. Broken. Healing. Masterful. Foolish. Confused. Whole. Shattered.

Free.

Confessions (Part 15)

There’s something very satisfying about this little series.  I think I enjoy the freedom of it.  I don’t feel locked into one post for some indeterminate length of time.  Sometimes it’s hard to stay in the flow and stay coherent for that length of time.

I think the quick jump in and out lets me decide to stay in focus for a while, if I so desire, or to skip around, changing topics often.

I write these in clusters, and this is about the third cluster.  As of this writing, no one has complained about my writing style, so I presume those who read this enjoy it. 😉

I’m excited.  Life is about to crank up for me.  I can feel it.

Confessions (Part 14)

I’ve seen myself doing all kinds of things.  I’ve seen myself acting, I’ve seen myself as a famous singer… and then I’ve allowed myself to become terrorized at the thought of being up on stage, in front of all those people…

Suddenly, I don’t have that good of a voice, not really.  And I’m too fat to be an actress (despite the abundance of heavy actresses in Hollywood today) or not pretty enough (hello? I’ve seen some of those ‘candid’ photos of the Hollywood elite… they’re just like me.  They have zits and bad hair days, too.

All my life, I’ve been claiming to be looking for passion, but really, I’ve been looking for something that excites me more than it terrifies me.  I’ve looked for reasons why I can’t do the things I have an interest in, and lo and behold, I find one. Every. Single. Time.

I kill my passion with practicality, before it ever has a chance to take root.

Ouch.