Despite how glorious my life is, how blissed out I am, how strong, capable and independent I am, even I have my weak moments. Despite life changing achievements, life goals set and met, more goals and dreams on the horizon, even I can feel second best, unworthy. Despite knowing I am loved, cherished, desired, even I have moments when I feel alone, lonely, and unwanted. These moments come at unexpected times, blindsiding me. When my slumbering demons manage to stir, wake, and sneak up behind me to whisper in my ear. Yesterday was one of those days. I started to write, then stopped myself, ashamed, angry, frustrated. To have worked so hard, come so far, to still feel insecure. To allow self-flagellation, negative self thoughts, doubts. These are the self-pitying, mewling, unworthy words that I wrote yesterday, before stopping myself:
"Why, oh why, is it so hard for me to stop feeling like the girl on the side, winner by default, second choice, a stopgap measure? Am I merely a pleasant diversion, a comfy way to pass the time, a dear friend, a buddy? Jebus, don't let me be a buddy. The buddy with boobs. That has been a moniker from the past, "like a guy buddy, but with boobs." I just can't seem to shake the deep rooted insecurity of a lifetime of these relationships. No, I don't think that I am presently in any of these degrading situations. So why can't I manage to step away from that particular baggage? I have been quite adept at shedding myself of many of my insecurities and doubts, but this is one area that seems to cling to me like a cobweb. How is it, even when I am faced with evidence to the contrary I still manage to flagellate myself with these doubts? Past experience. My track record is not great. As a matter of fact, it is quite dismal. Am I merely jaded?"
Bah. Sometimes I amaze myself with my own insecurity, doubts, and what can amount to self loathing. Honestly, I don't know what dredges these feelings to the surface. I have been on an even keel of late, triumphant, delirious, blissful, even epic. So why the sudden gush of self-pity? I blame the change in the weather. It is as good an excuse as any. Maybe it is that I have accomplished my major event of the year, my big goal, and now, without the diligence of physical training, too much attention is turned inward. I do remind myself that everyone, and I mean everyone, has bad days. Days of doubt. "Fat days," if you will. Even those who seem to have it all still fall prey to whispers of their demons. The key here is to make sure the demons know that they can just go fuck themselves. There is no simpler way of putting it. The demons want to come out and play? Kick up a little dust? Toy with my delicately balanced sense of self? Get all up in my face? Fuck with my shit? Well then, gloves are off, I'm not going to put up with any of their shit right now. My life is too grand and glorious, epic and amazing, fun and fantastic. I don't have time to spend weeping into my Wheaties, crying into my coffee. What a ridiculous waste of time and energy. So yesterday, after writing those pathetic lines, I left my fabulous job, got on my Harley, rode through the splendid autumn evening, swung by the fire station, breathed in the scent of the engine bays, headed home, wrassled the dog, worked out until the sweat was dripping off my chin, ate a grand, healthy dinner, and reminded myself that my life is amazing. Tonight I swam until my shoulders burned, ate a glorious dinner, peeled apples for pie to take to a fish fry tomorrow, planned out my crazy, fun filled weekend (firefighter stairclimb on sunday), and now am drooping with well earned fatigue. Demons be damned, I have no time for their carping. My life is too mind-blowingly astonishing to waste energy on insecurities. I love my life.