Iím doing ok. I think Iím ok.

Work has been difficult. I donít think that Iíve been so maliciously attacked without any provocation since junior high. By this, I mean by normal people. I donít count my parents in that tally.

Iíve had the tendency for most of my life to be my own therapist. Maybe because I always thought professional shrinks were idiots who only spouted the obvious to me.

ďYouíre depressedĒ

ďYouíre in a bad relationshipĒ

Well, duh

Or maybe itís because I am naturally a better listener than speaker.

Iím ok with sitting myself down and telling myself what I want to hear, or when itís necessary, telling myself what I donít want to hear. Sometimes, I just listen to me.

So, how am I?

Surprisingly calm.

I used to fall apart if there was any perceived threat to my ego. A couple of years ago, Iíd be desperate to kick something to pieces in karate. Iíd train myself to exhaustion, not out of dedication, but out of fear of what Iíd do if I didnít continually keep myself in a state of complete lack-of-energy.

You can train yourself in more than one way. Itís entirely possible to have something happen to you that is usually labeled as a ďnegative experience,Ē but not experience it negatively.

Basically, I know Iím going to die someday. Yeah. Itís weird how life always comes down to that. I know Iím going to die someday. My time here is finite. How do I want to spend my finite time here?

Do I want to spend it not seeing the sky, which is arguably the most gorgeous thing to the human eye, just because Iím worried about someone elseís delusions?

Do I want to ignore my loved ones because Iím too nervous to speak to anyone?

Do I want to refrain from activities that I love because Iím too down to enjoy them?

Not really.

In the end, it doesnít really matter. In the end, the result is the same. No matter what you do; cry or not cry, yell or not yell, laugh or not laugh, you are going to end up in the same place.

Anyway, I know that deep down in our subconscious, thatís always there. In the past when I freaked out about things, I was freaking out for the same reason: my time is finite. I always thought it was because he did that to me, and she did this to me, etc.

No. I was freaking out because life is too short to feel bad, and I thought other people were robbing me of feeling good.

However, since then, Iíve learned that I control how I feel. I decide whether or not Iím going to waste my time feeling bad. I decide how much and for how long Iíll let people influence my sphere of existence.

With the contentment that buys me, I can expand my awareness.

Itís not just that my life is finite. Everyoneís life is finite. I canít control how they feel, but Iíll never intentionally rob them of anything.

Thatís the thing that does matter. In the end, when youíre buried. The one thing that matters is how you treated people when you were alive. It matters because those people will continue to live after youíve died.

In the past, Iíve also had the tendency to trip myself up a lot, too. If I canít make myself feel good, then I feel guilty for not feeling good. But, Iíve also since realized that feeling bad is part of the definition of human. Sometimes you feel bad. We live in a relative world. We canít even imagine good without the ability to compare it to a bad.

So, Iíve decided that I also want bad to be part of my finite experience. I mean, I donít go around looking for bad. Donít worry. It finds me. You donít have to feel like Iím being neglected in the bad area. Trust me.

This entry brought to you by:

-A coworker who loathes me

-The work that must be done, anyway

-A broken washing machine

-A finished basement was finished around the washer. So, a wall has to be removed to replace it. Yay.

-4 angry, fighting cats

-Stressed out boyfriend

-A house in total disarray (lack of order really stresses me out)

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Friday, Aug. 29, 2008 at 5:57 PM