Friday, December 28, 2012

Watching the Pot Boil
As many bloggers know, as they watch to see if their subscriber numbers have increased (like a watched pot of water...will it boil?!), It's so nice, when someone acknowledges my presence, as happened today. I received such a nice compliment on yesterday's post, how the person identified so deeply with what I had written, thanking me for the palpable experience. I had to go back and read again, because I'd forgotten what I had written (or was I just so in shock at being noticed and so affective?! Affect v. Effect = emotion v. consequence).
If I can't remember what I wrote, why did I write it? Why do any of us publish what we write? I want to be noticed. But I didn't remember what I'd written, even though I was successful in getting noticed; does WHAT I write really matter? I think it does, because I'm motivated to write by moments I find very poignant; they seem so important to me at that time, that I must share them. But is it the words that I must share, or is it the feeling they give me, or is it amazement, or is it self-importance begging for attaboys? Or maybe, I just write them to avoid feeling them, the words to be stored perhaps to be read another day, digested and vomited another time, or not. Or maybe I'm questioning all these feelings to avoid the confirmation that my words and thoughts ARE important, they ARE read, they DO have an effect on others. Perhaps my questioning is all a way for me to avoid

Anatomy of a Tear, Mona Rae Baroody
As I read yesterday's post again, I was stopped by these words "I want to feel safe, I want to feel love, I want to feel worth, I want to be vulnerable to feel need and reliance. I want to feel connected and related. I want to feel comfortable with receiving; I want to feel grateful. I want to feel pride without vanity. I want to feel like I am me, openly. I want to feel accepted."
My heart squeezed so tight, my sinuses clamped, my eyes hot and swelling, I slam one hand over my chest and the other over my mouth, as I struggle to breathe without crying, or continue living without breathing. Why do I want what I want? Why do I say "I want"? When I get it, why does my heart hurt soooooooo much? Perhaps if I continue to ask "why" I can continue to avoid .....self

Today I felt love. Today I felt important. Today I felt connected. At this moment of outpouring I feel vulnerable, yet I also feel COMPLETELY safe. I have received, and survived it today. I am grateful for the connection of another, I am proud to give what they received, I am accepted as not so different after all. All that feels good, but what is it that causes this pain; could it be that I'm afraid of being what I already am? Could it be that I continue to reject exactly what I asked for when it is so freely, loving, and generously given? Is it that I STILL don't think I'm worthy of it? Is it humility?
 What will it take to love my self? What will happen that motivates me rejoice in my greatness? I am SO scares me.

 "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you." Maya Angelou

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read my thoughts!