155

Day One Hundred and Fifty-Five:   Tree’s

There is this thing some people do that I envy and want to learn their ways.  It’s harder than I thought it would be, and I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.  A lot of people try to do it, and a lot of people succeed, or forget about it, or just move on with their lives.  I don’t think enough people give it the gravity that it deserves.  I wish I could forgive myself.

It’s so bizarre to think I torture and punish myself for things that are out of my control, or things that are mistakes and I might learn from but I hold a grudge.  That’s just it:  I hold a grudge against myself.  It seems as though this week is “Self Improvement” week or something.  It’s like I’m being critical of every mentally unstable thing that I know I do, and scrutinizing it until it’s the only thing I think about.  Will I ever be able to forgive myself for this?  Probably not.

Who has the strength to be accepting of oneself anyway?  The energy?  The willpower or motivation?  I have enough energy to be confident and get through the day without hoping or sleep at the moment, and that’s a big thing in my life, but there are those times where I curse myself for not waking up early this morning to do my yoga, or that I should’ve gotten more work done yesterday.  Is it fair to myself?  No, but I’m really trying to work on it.

What I don’t get about humans in general is that we hold so much inside of us.  We hold hatred, and greed, and pain, and love.  We hold our hearts, trapped behind gates of bone and organs so that we don’t let it break, and sometimes we hand our hidden things away and they do break, so we hold onto them tighter.  Sometimes humans don’t let anyone break through, they don’t let anyone tear them apart to get to the gooey caramel on the inside, and those people are cold, and I wish I could start tapping my way in. 

We hold so much inside that sometimes we spill over the top, and sometimes we don’t get that far and the things we hold inside of us scratch at our insides and tear eachother apart.  Why are we so critical?  Why are we so worried?  These questions, among others, hurt me to think about.

I hold so much against myself too.  As if I was my worst enemy.  I’m not I don’t mind me I think I’m pretty okay for a human being, I am passionate and caring and thoughtful, and I have lots of nice friends and sometimes I say and write smart things, and yet I consider myself to be…well…Maybe I’m not looking at this the right way.  Maybe what I need to be saying is that I don’t write or think paragraphs like this very often, but I do try my very best to not look at my imperfections and focus on the passionate bits of myself.

But if I eat some chocolate cake I get mad at myself, which isn’t fair.

The point of this blog was to help me not keep everything inside, to hold some things outside, and although it’s scary I try to do my best everyday.  I put myself right here forcing myself to..well, be thoughtful and outward and not hold everything behind my ribs and put it bleeding on the table.  Sometimes it’s a mess and you probably don’t follow what I’m talking or thining, and other times it works out nicely.  I don’t mind it, I guess, sometimes I get mad at myself for the bad posts.  Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself.  Maybe.

x