I always have some of my deepest thoughts while in transit - today was no exception.
On the 6 hour flight from Dulles to San Francisco (otherwise known as TORTURE) I was reading "Eat, Pray, Love." Normally I'm not into reading about someone else's spiritual journey, but almost every female friend I have told me to read this book, so I bowed to peer pressure, and I have to say, its pretty damn good. To make a long story short, the author took a year to travel and "find herself" after a divorce and messy break up. She spent 4 months each in Italy, India and Indonesia to do this. I WISH I had the ability to do that...
I found a lot of similarities between myself and the author - the incessant talking while not listening, the brooding, and especially the not believing in yourself and the constant worrying/fear of the world around me outside of my professional life.
To the person who doesn't know me that well (the 3 best girl friends are excluded from this crowd because they know me better than I know myself) none of these things are obvious. At work, I appear to be outgoing and really sure of myself. Just a hint: I'M FAKING IT. Seriously, when it comes to professional matters, I deserve an Academy Award. I can get up in front of a room of 200 people for a 2 hour presentation and look to be as snug as a bug in a rug, but inside I'm dying.
For some reason, this ability to fake it does not transfer to my personal life. 99.9% of my actions are motivated by some manifestation of guilt, fear or worry that I'm going to be rejected. I want to know why...why do I have this incessant fear? Why can't I take the next step with any guy (one in particular) just to say "hey, you know that flirting we do, like all the time, does it mean anything ?" Nope, I can't do that. I'm PETRIFIED. Its a skill that many girls mastered in the 2nd grade, but nope, not me. I could blame my mother (and I do, a little bit) but she's not here to defend herself, and you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, so I'll let it be an unsolved mystery.
Well, after seeing how the author of this book took a year to figure herself out - the moral was basically she had to allow herself to heal - just let the bad stuff go, and invite the good stuff in. Well, Universe, LISTEN UP. This is me officially inviting good stuff in. I want good stuff. LOTS AND LOTS OF GOOD STUFF. I've had enough bad stuff in the past 4 years so DON'T SEND ME ANYMORE BECAUSE I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE IT.
Specific good stuff that I want:
1) A house I can afford and move into by October 31st
2) A GOOD male to date/marry/reproduce with. Not a gay one, not one that treats me like crap but I'm okay with because hey, at least its SOME attention, someone that LOVES me for who I am (no matter how thin/fat I get) and who I love back.
3) The ability to balance work, school, family and a love life without having 8 panic attacks a week
4) Get over being afraid of everything! Or at least learn to fake it in all aspects of my life...
The repressed Catholic in me keeps saying "God helps those who help themselves." And you know WHAT, Sister Alice...I HAVE been helping myself. I'm actively searching for somewhere to live, I've been on eHarmony (it doesn't work girls, don't waste your money) and I'm slowly learning to do my deep breathing.
So Universe, what do you say...want to help me out? Pretty please with a cherry on top? :)