Itís weird how I typically only feel like writing when Iím too tired to do my actual job. I had an absolutely horrible nightmare last night, and Iím intentionally not recalling it at the moment. I havenít slept well all week.
Iíve been wanting to fill out email surveys more often, lately, and people have been conveniently sending them to me more often. Iíve been resisting the desire for the most part. I worry that itís too much an exercise in egotism.
Iím not really all that obsessed with that subject of ego, despite the fact that I bring it up a lot here. I think I tend to think about it a lot when I am about to write about myself, whether it be here or in an internet questionnaire.
However, I think that over the past few weeks Iíve been subconsciously having low self-esteem.
I say this for a couple of reasons.
The first is that a week or so ago, someone asked me to illustrate a childrenís book. I jumped at the opportunity, not because I thought Iíd be good at it, but because I thought it would be fun. I wasnít really thinking much about the possibility of publication. The other day, I showed the author my work so far, and she fell over with delight over it. The weird thing is that the only reason I showed her was because I had decided that I couldnít waste anymore time on something that she wouldnít like, and showing her would put an end to the project.
I felt so much happier and content with myself afterwards. I hadnít even realized that I was craving someone to give me encouragement; encouragement for anything, really.
Secondly, I decided to be more involved at my Buddhist organization. The president emailed me today to thank me and let me know how much appreciated and valuable my ideas are.
Itís not even so much that it makes me feel better about myself, but its encouraging to know that my energy can be put to good use; mainly, that my effort can be used for something other than beating the crap out of someone in karate. Because, you know, a good jump spin-kick isnít all that practical these days.
I wouldnít tell the author of that book, but I honestly donít care about making a cent off of my illustrations, as long as it touches someoneís life in a positive way.
Itís weird, though. Here I am, Iíve got a million things going for me, yet, I still worry that my efforts canít be put to good use? Thatís rather irrational, but Iím sure it goes back to my parents.
My dad really hurt my feelings over the weekend, and heís continuing to be disrespectful through the week. I thought I was over taking his actions personally, but I think it was bothering me on a subconscious level. I talked to my brother about it, and his response was to think of our father as a dog that pees on the rug because he just doesnít know any better.
Thatís the thing about parents, though. Weíre born craving their love and approval. After you learn youíre never ever going to get it, how long does it take before you stop wanting it?
Over the weekend, I also realized how lonely I am. I usually keep myself too busy or too lost in thought to notice it. I often forget to make the effort to establish connections with people for my own sake. I communicate regularly with a lot of people, but itís rare for me to feel completely open and connected with them.
As time has gone on, and the more hurts Iíve built up, the more Iíve shut myself off from other people. I even struggle and argue with myself over it. ďBe more open!Ē ďI canít! I canít! Itís too scary!Ē
|Wednesday, Mar. 21, 2007 at 2:43 PM|