It's An Update

Oh my God, two posts in one day? Is the world gonna' implode?

Yay. This is what I do when I'm sick of working and want to take a break, but don't want to leave my computer for fear I won't get motivated to return and continue chugging along.

I promised updates. Updates updates... *sigh* It's been...full lately.

I've been leading the fall cleanse this week. It has been an amazingly rewarding experience (as always) but it's also a lot of pressure. And of course I want to do it "right" and "great" and whatever whatever. But in addition to supporting all the people going through the cleanse (who can't or won't limit their support needs to the email group and have been sending personal emails and needing phone calls and such), a couple friends are going through a lot right now too. A lot a lot. Big a lot. So, many hours have been spent there too. I'm glad to be able to be there for people, I truly am. But I'm feeling quite alone right now. A few of my support structure - for various and sundry reasons - are not available to me right now. Overloaded themselves or simply absent, I'm unable to call them with my needs. Coupled with my increasing distance from my family (much needed, of course)...well, let's just say I'm very well aware that I am on my own.

I decided I needed to get back on coffee after 5 days without it. Day two sans caffeine was a BITCH. But my lightheadedness and near-blackouts came back when I was off the java. I think that the caffeine was keeping my blood pressure elevated to *normal* levels. Yay for the drug in a mug!

Good things on the career front: So many people are interested in doing the cleanse that I'm running it again in November. Plus, it's New! and Improved! Yippee. AND I have a new niche market I want to pursue. Not sure how to pursue them yet, but I'm puttin' it out there in the universe: I want to be the holistic counselor and Reiki practitioner that rock musicians turn to. I want to be called out to tour buses and have tattooed and leather-clad dudes laying on my massage table. I want to rock out at the shows and help them collect healthier snacks for backstage. How freaking AWESOME would that be? I'm puttin' it out there puttin' it out there puttin' it out there....

The weather on Halloween is supposed to be nice. Yay! Wasn't looking forward to freezing my ta-tas off. Not before slice and dice, ya?

Found myself lingering at the gym the other day. Bleah. What the fuck is up with THAT? I must like picking my own wounds, huh? No surprise I guess. Sometimes I annoy myself.

I'm also putting out in the universe that I need to find a freaking apartment!!! People are now becoming very drawn to my abode, but I can't find one that fits me. Eep! I gotsta'.

Kay, I'm not interested in writing about myself anymore. Ciao kiddies.

Sigh Bye

*sigh*

Tomorrow's my B-day. My last year of twenty-something-hood. Not doin' anything. Might go to Yoga in the morning. Maybe I'll try and get work done or get my apartment "show ready". Or maybe I'll take a long bath or just sit around with my thumb up my ass.

I got a tattoo. Ohm.

I got laid. Oh my.

I got nothin'.

Still wounded...still questioning...still wondering...

I have got to got to got to got to let go of the fantasy because it ain't ain't ain't ain't ain't gonna' happen.

Weeds was good last night. Weeds is always good. Good fucking show.

See? See how lame I'm feeling right now? I'm commenting on fucking TV SHOWS! Good lord. (It was only becuase I just saw my banana peel from this morning. I will never look at a banana peel the same way. Wish I could try that out...)

Bye.

I Love Sprint

I love Sprint. Sprint Sprint Sprint!

No, I'm not kidding.

As much as I love to vilify companies that screw with me, I LOVE to extol the virtues of the ones that ROCK.

I just bought the new Treo 700p phone, which I am soooooooooooo excited about. The thing is not cheap. But somehow, some way, some glorious "gods are smiling on me" way...I managed to charge to my card only $499. But then...and this is the BESTEST PART...I have a service credit of (da da da) $787.37. Which means Sprint paid ME $288.37 to get a phat new phone.

Seriously. You can't make this shit up.

I love SSSSPPPPPPPRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNNTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!

My Brain is a Fuzzy Bunny

Yesterday and today...it has been very hard to focus. I have my fingers in a lot of pies, (please don't insert disgusting sexual jokes here. I insist I mean no metaphor.) and it's hard to keep track of it all. That boring old juggling image keeps coming to mind. Isn't there a better trite saying out there?

So, yeah. Fuzzy. Difficult to concentrate. Skipped yoga. Skipped Thought Exchange. Skipped responsibilities. Took a bath.

Perhaps day 2 sans caffeine might be partially to blame?

Randomness Not Even Remotely Organized

Image borrowed from this amazing photoblog: Always Curious

Why am I so bloody irritated? Irritable. Irritate-able. Rate-able. Ratty. Natty.

I'm not quite looking for a fight. Am I looking for a fight? I'm easily scratched, that's for sure. It's not taking much to set me off. I haven't really been biting peoples' heads off that much. Not entirely true. Just not as viciously when compared to the "good olde days".

Wow was I a bitch on wheels back then. Except...no wheels. Fat sausage legs more like.

Now? Am I tightly wound Vata? Is my fiery temper Pitta-packed? Do I just need to get laid?

Anger turned outward meant for inward. Reflections on the unknown what needs to be known inside. Maybe I'm afraid to be mushy. My armor is definitely strong, but its' rusty. Trite. Angsty like a teenager. That ain't even worth writing down kiddo.

Within ten minutes: 3 middle-aged ladies. One red, one pink, one blue. Go granny, go!

Spatial relationships seem beyond the grasp of some people. Two shopping carts cannot occupy the same physical space in the universe at the same time. Would that they could, I suppose. Guess that's not so much spatial relationships as basic physics. In which case...they're still morons. KMart is their breeding ground. I've seen the pods, people. They're pod people!

I must be sending out bitch waves. Or talk-to-me-not waves. Or hard-ass vibes. Or something. To men. Women strangers, however, appear perfectly comfortable stopping me for directions on the sidewalk. They stop me on the sidewalk; they don't want directions on how to use the sidewalk or anything. I respond with terse curt one-word replies. What a friendly little fucker I am these days.

Not-So-Missing Links

Some stuff:

• I've been using these again and that's REALLY going to piss Lisa off.
• I miss this guy. I haven't seen him in way too long.
• I really need to make an appointment here and here. But I don't have time. And I don't want to.
• This stuff sucks. I need to find a better brand.
• I'm still working on my site, but it's coming along. I want to totally re-vamp it, though. Make it more "my" style instead of "their" style.
• A shitload of this and more is sitting in my fridge. I was in the kitchen for an absurdly long time tonight. I also made some of this. But crispy style!
• I now have five paying clients, thanks to setting up a table.
• Sam and I almost watched this last night, but we ended up pausing after five minutes and talking all night instead.
• I didn't make it here this week, which sucked. But I did it on my own with a CD today. I set myself up so I was facing my windows and I watched the snow drift past while I stretched and breathed for an hour and a half.
• Stupid shit. Repair dude is coming Friday.
• Other stupid shit. I have to send this one in. So what am I supposed to do without it for two weeks?
• Some people come into your life at exactly the right time and are just freaking awesome.
• Oh crap. I just remembered I forgot to sort through my stuff for pick-up.
• Made me cry two weeks in a row. I LOVE this show.

It's 2 AM and I've been meaning to get to bed earlier. Yeah, that's working out well. I'm gonna' try that now.

They Were Better When I Was A Kid. I Think.

Were the Olympic opening ceremonies always this lame? Why do they need to have the play-by-play commentary informing us of what everything is supposed to represent? Those speed skaters that were like the "spark" of the soul or some shit? Dayum.

And what's with NBC calling the locale "Torino" instead of "Turin"? They don't call "Venice" by the native "Venezia". They don't say "Firenze" for "Florence". Pretentious crap.

Last rant: Call me horrible and cold and unwomanly or whatever, but I don't like hearing children sing. Their little under-developed voices are like caterwauling yaks High-pitched yaks. That serious-faced chicklet that stared freakishly while lip-synching as the flag was being raised creeped me out.

I'm feeling cranky, can you tell?

Grody. Yeah, I said Grody.

Wow this weather sucks.

That's right. I'm blaming my melancholy on the weather. Melancholic. I was a colicky baby. I have a cowlick in my hair.

It has nothing to do with the NEW YEAR. Things are actually better now than they were last year at this time, so it can't be that. Well, partially, it's the neverending "transition" that I seem to be constantly and consistently going through. But it ain't necessarily a bad thing. It's a good thing. Just uncomfortable at times.

And DAMN does this weather suck.

I feel like a mouth-breathing doorman commenting on the weather repeatedly, but I *did* just come back from sunny southern California, where the skies were blue and cloudless. So the contrast is a wee bit noticeable. Not that I would want to be in that sunny southern California on a permanent basis. Or even a temporarily permanent basis. Because as I've already established...

The family brings the CRAZY.

Man, even my kitties seem melancholy. Edgar keeps curling up in the tightest little orange fuzzball imaginable. And Willa, the typical little brat, has been whining for like an hour.

I gotta' get the hell out of here.

So Many Thingies

I feel like I'm journaling all the time now. About everything. I always had this much going on in my head...I think I just chose to, if not exactly ignore it, then slightly deny it. But I kept busy.

These days I am woefully unproductive. So much energy is going into processing processing processing that I'm finding it difficult to produce. That leaves me feeling a bit shitty. My days seem to amount to very little. I've become great at getting "outside the house" stuff done--but not so much the things I really need to do.

I need to clean - recaulk my tub - refinish my marble - send various emails - write Xmas cards - make Xmas presents - paint - excavate my closet - pay bills - organize - print business cards - do other "businessy" things - keep up with FAM (not short for family) - stop eating - research - Bollocks. Loads of things. Fuck it.

Oh great. It's a full moon. Thaaaaat's great. What am I doing? Someone called me a loser last night. To my face. Well, over the phone. I think she meant it in a joking way; but she has no idea how it struck home.

Unrelated to that, but also to something else someone else did last night...shit. I can't get into details. Let me put it this way: Don't dick with me. Don't pretend to reach out and make contact if you're doing it just for appearances. Half-hearted bullshit is ridiculous and I DON'T APPRECIATE IT. Ass. What are you avoiding? I'll call you on your bullshit, you know. I expect the same in return, but don't think I'll let you get away with fooling yourself--or god forbid--me. I'm smarter than the average bear.

Tripping on my own Empathy

Being a sensitive person is a good thing. I didn't used to think so. I used to think that being sensitive was a weakness. I felt it made me too vulnerable. It didn't serve me.

Or so I thought.

Then I grew to appreciate my sensitivity. I saw it as an asset. I noticed things and felt things that other people didn't necessarily experience and that made me a more complete human being.

But where that sensitivity still trips me up is when I am too susceptible to the emotional states of those around me and subsequently take their feelings on as my own. If the person I'm with is anxious, I start to feel their anxiety. If they're sad, I get melancholy. If they're elated...well, thank god, because then I'm thrilled!

So again I guess it's a question of balance. I want to maintain my ability to be sensitive to others' emotional states...but I want to stay with my own experience independent of theirs. How do I care about them without caring too much?

Presented Without Commentary

• My ex's dad died yesterday and I'm going to the viewing tomorrow. I've never seen a dead body in person before.
• A woman at the energy workshop tonight was so fucking fidgety and annoying I visualized her head popping off like a giant zit.
• My cellphone is practically glued to my hands because I'm waiting to hear about my uncle "any minute now".
• A most amazing friend stayed with me to help me get through the night of death calls.
• I did something very unhealthy this morning.
• I got another replacement iPod today and this one works (yay!) and the guy helping me was lots of fun.
• For the first time practically EVER, I forgot my pack of multi-colored pens today. I haven't been a day without them almost since I got them. A couple are running low on ink. I use the pink one disproportionately often.
• I did something somewhat unhealthy an hour ago.
• H&M had a really awesome black scarf that was super cheap. It's cozy and I want to hug it.
• I feel squishy and fuzzy right now and I keep spacing out.

No analysis.

Contrary to Popular Opinion...I Don't Eat Babies

This is me doing something completely out of character.

It's amazing what men with tattoos and lip rings can convince me to do. One even convinced me to volunteer Saturday with Creative Arts Workshops, which brings visual and performing arts to kids in East Harlem. Yup. I spent a Saturday working with inner city youths.

Anyone that knows me will find that surprising. Cuz kids? Not. My. Thing.

Here's the deal: It's not that I don't like kids. I do, to a certain extent. And it's not like I don't know how to relate to them or deal with them or that I'm scared of them or whatever whatever whatever. I'm juuuuuust not enamored. I like them, generally, in small doses. Small doses where I can have brief, fun little interactions and then HAND THEM BACK TO THEIR PARENTS very quickly...before they get cranky. And that's just with well-adjusted suburbanite children. Throw in the underlying issues inherent in a group of "at risk" kids? The vying for attention? The behavioral issues? The sheer cultural divide? Um. YIKES.

And I don't get that glowing, joyous feeling from kidlets, either. You know those people. They're the folks that just LOVE children and find them adorable and precious and God's gift and blahdy blah. The ones who squeal at babies in strollers and squat down to talk to toddlers before addressing the parents. I am not one of those.

I'm not sure from whence the disdain sprang. I think it coincided with when my mother started pressuring me to have babies. She wants to be a grandma so bad she fucking OOZES it. Last Christmas, she said to me (in all seriousness!!):

Honey, if you get to be 35 and you still aren't married and you don't have any children yet...will you PLEASE consider freezing some of your eggs?

I told her to get the hell out of my ovaries. You see this abdomen? It's got a biiiig red circle with a LINE through it.

But back to volunteering...

It was definitely an interesting day. I really was fascinated by the behavior of the kids, even if I didn't exactly like it. I found myself very curious to know where some of their behavior was rooted. Why did one little girl insist repeatedly that she was a boy? Why did one little boy suddenly go from laughing and hanging all over me to crying and refusing to make eye contact? Why did another older boy act out so badly to drive me away, and then once he succeeded, try to draw me back in by showing off his artwork?

I was so impressed that the guy who convinced me to do this actually DOES this all the time. On a regular basis. All year 'round. And LOVES it. It takes a very special person to find this kind of frustrating, demanding, exhausting work rewarding.

And as much as I kept and keep saying "this isn't ME"... Well, earlier I was recounting my experience to a friend and I found myself actually getting excited by the retelling. So I guess that means I was a *little* into it. Oy.

But, mom--this still doesn't mean grandbabies are coming ANYTIME soon.

Stage Sickness

Ugh. Experimental theater.

Again I say ugh.

I went to a friend's show tonight. It was a little piece of CRAP mounted on the lower east side. That kind of thing makes me glad to not be involved in theater at the moment. Good god I am so sick of seeing BAD theater. I can't even remember the last time I saw a good show.

I'm so not into theater right now. Was I ever, really? I was into doing it, just not so much watching it. It's like when I played piano. My favorite to play was classical; but I've always hated listening to classical music. And singing? Loved singing showtunes; but hated llistening to them. As a teenager I loved writing poetry. Never liked reading it.

What's up with that divide? Is it a common phenomenon? Common phenomenon. That's fun to say.

Now, when it comes to health and counseling stuff...I like doing it, I like reading about it, I like researching it, I like talking about it, I like the people involved in it.

Integration, I think, is what's happening here. And it's way cool.

Signally Confused

There are really a limited number of ways you can meet a new dating prospect. Of course there are millions of permutations…there are so many different ways two people’s paths can cross. But all of them can pretty much fit into two basic categories:

• Someone you already know
• Someone entirely new

Someone you already know might be a friend of a friend…you’ve run into them at parties a couple of times; or maybe you’ve even hung out once or twice. You kind of “know” them, even if the dating aspect is a new facet of the interaction.

Someone entirely new is just that. Maybe you met online, maybe they asked for your number after talking with you for twenty minutes at a random bar. Whatever the circumstance, for you they have NO CONTEXT.

And herein, for me, lies the problem.

When it is someone entirely new, I HAVE NO CONTEXT! I don’t know what their personality is like; I don’t know how they are with other people or how they are around other girls. I don’t know if they’re always that way, or if just with me. I don’t know if they’re a poseur or for real. I don’t know if they’re a superstar or a superdork.

Sure, sure. I know I should only rely on my own instincts and fairly give them every chance and analyze the situation with an open mind and blank slate. Yadda yadda. Ew. I just wrote yadda yadda. I’ll try never to do that again.

Anyway. My issue isn’t so much with whether or not I figure out if they’re a loser or not. I just don’t know what to do about reading the body language.

I went out with this new guy last night. Second night we’d met, first night we’d gone out. So far, I totally dig him. Intelligent, creative, complex, well-rounded, funny, cute (fuck cute, he’s hot!), warm, blah blah. Good things. A couple hours into the evening, he kissed me. And damn was it a nice kiss. Absolutely lovely, as a matter of fact. So throughout the rest of the evening, there was lots more kissing. Lots.

But it wasn’t that lusty, urgent, “I must have your panties in a bunch on my bedroom floor in the next twenty minutes” kind of kissing. It was passionate, yes, but it was also warm and tender and gentle. And it wasn’t just kissing, it was the arm around my waist, and the leaning into me and the cuddling while listening to a band play. Basically, if an objective observer had seen the body language between us, they would have thought we’d been going out much longer than just a first date.

THIS IS THE KIND OF BEHAVIOR THAT CONFUSES THE HELL OUT OF ME.

A big objective part of me says to just take it for what it was…nothing more than the enjoyment of bodies and closeness and all that jazz. But the primal, basic part of my brain feels that sort of body language, revels in it, but wants to know WHAT is this guy’s agenda?

Is he always like this with girls? Is he one of those super flirty super affectionate guys that leads women on not with his words, but with his actions? Or is he forthright? Perhaps he was truly feeling that kind of closeness. Was I the “pretend girlfriend” of the evening, hardly to hear from him again? Or maybe he is genuinely interested.

I’m not ACTUALLY stressing about this like the post makes it seem. But I was left wondering a bit after last night. It's strange...I'd know better where we stood if we'd just fucked. It's that sweet, sensitive stuff that I've never quite gotten a handle on.

Tricky thing, dating. Hell, getting to know ANYONE completely new can be uncomfortable. You never know quite where you stand for awhile. That tenuousness is so disconcerting.

All that being said…GREAT fucking weekend. Seriously.

In Being Seen, There Is Care

The last 10 to 15 minutes or so of my yoga class consist of laying in the corpse pose in silent meditation. At the start of this final pose, my yoga instructor, J., chants. It's the most amazing sound

His voice vibrates and resonates on an auditory plane that cuts right to my inner energy. It's as if I'm an infant in my crib and my daddy is crooning a lullaby; I'm a woman in my lover's embrace and he's singing me to sleep; I'm pure spirit in a cloud-like nest and the universe is cradling me in its giant arms.

And after that...silence.

While the spiritual/physical connection is always wonderful, today I wasn't quite as "in" it as usual, which is why I think the following affected me as it did. During the silence, I heard people talking out in the lobby. I heard a man's voice, and I had a moment of panic. I thought, for a second, that J. had walked out and left me and my classmate alone. Suddenly I felt abandoned.

It only took a matter of seconds to realize that J. was indeed still in the room with us; but that fleeting moment of panic was enough to set my wheels spinning.

What deep fear did that moment tap into?

What does it mean to be seen? To be watched over? To be validated? To be protected?

What does it mean for someone to care?

As an only child, now grown into an single adult woman living alone in a big bad city...I've become quite used to solitude. I'm familiar with entertaining myself, mothering myself, disciplining myself, playing with myself--the basic gamut. But it's all easier when someone cares.

For Rob Brezsny to care to have us write down our most painful issues so that he could take them home, pray over them, and burn them...that moved me to tears.

For J. to care to stay in the room with us in our silence, holding the energy of the space to keep us safe...I need that.

For Samantha to care to call me because she hadn't heard from me in a few days and was concerned because "that wasn't like" me...it made me feel loved.

It would be nice to be self-contained enough so that I wouldn't care if others cared. I wish I could be that blase. But I'm not a good liar and my face never succeeds in concealing my true emotions. I CARE. I need people to care about me.

Earlier I indulged myself in a little pity party: nobody made sure I had Thanksgiving plans..Nobody wonders what I'm doing this weekend..Nobody is curious what I'm doing right now. Blah angsty blah trite blah poor fucking blah me.

I tried to type that crap in earlier, but I couldn't do it. Well, obviously I could cuz it's THERE. But I couldn't leave it sans self-referrential context because it was just too fucking LAME. I'm sure that in reality, there are indeed people out there who care. Not just my mother, but real live other people who aren't obligated to give a crap just because we share the same DNA. Sometimes though, especially when the days get shorter and colder and the season steals people away, it can be easy to forget.

The holidays fucking suck.

And it ain't even December yet.

Lisa -- I tried to write a positive post. But shit is up right now and although I can act, I can't pretend.

Shhhh. Sleepy time now. DAMMIT.

My brain won't shut up.

It's 2:18 in the morning. I'm so tired my eyeballs feel swollen. So why aren't I asleep?

MY BRAIN WON'T SHUT UP.

I hate when this happens.

I'm an asshole

I was such an asshole.

Backstory:

Long time ago I dated this guy--um, "Red"--for a little while. He continually led me on, which made me feel like shit and prodded me into unhealthy behaviors like late-night stuffing (the kind mentioned in my "Bye-Bye Mercury" post). During that period, another friend--he'll be "Frank"--was a sounding board for all the drama. He helped me through the tears and offered wonderful advice and guidance. Even though Frank never met Red, he hated him.

Meanwhile--about a year later--Red and I are now friends. I don't desire him any more in a romantic way AT ALL. But of course because I no longer want him, he wants me a little. Keeps trying "things", ya know? Typical. And so easily deflectable.

But I was an asshole.

Last night I was an asshole for two reasons. One I've owned up to and apologized for. The other...well...I guess I'm not done being a jerk.

The One Where I Later Behaved Like A Grown-Up and Took Responsibility:
Frank and Red met last night for the very first time. Big party, not a private little affair or something. I don't know what the hell compelled me, but I told Red that Frank hated him. WTF is up with that high school bullshit? After beating myself up a little I realized that the immature dig arose because a small part of me is still harboring some pain and resentment because of Red's long-ago behavior. Clear and partially understandable. So I called Red and apologized. At first he didn't understand why I thought I was an asshole. But after a little explanation he completely got it. I hope acknowledging and apologizing was the right thing to do and wasn't just a self-centered catharsis.

The Second Reason I Was An Asshole:
I'm leading him on. I have NO interest in this man anymore. But I flirt. I touch his arm when we talk and I let him put his arms around my waist when he's standing beside me. I laugh and speak in a bubbly manner. I sweetly deflect his advances with just the right amount of sultry eye contact to keep him reaching for more. Granted, I *really* don't think he's emotionally affected by the "lead-on" like I was back in the day when the tables were turned.

However.

It ain't right.

I try to live an integrated, ethical life. So I gots to stop. Sure sure...harmless flirtation can be all well and good. But this feels icky. I don't want to feel icky. And I know I'm just doing this because he has connections and other accessories that I may want in the future.

A bit assholic am I.

Ack

Too. Much. Going on right now. To write. Proper. Post.

Ack.

A Good Problem to Have?

I have been invited to become part of an already well established holistic health company. To start off with, I would be the client care specialist, with the opportunity to become one of their team of counselors after more training within the company.

Becoming a part of this organization would severely curtail my own ability to start a private business. However, it also offers a rare possibility to become a part of something that could become huge. I know that many other people are clamoring for this position that is being offered to me, all of them already graduates of IIN. But I don't know if it is what I want.

One argument in favor of joining this company is that it is SERIOUSLY hard to start your own successful business. My father did it. He built a multi-national publicly traded empire from the extra room in our condo. It took ALL his time and energy. He is totally type "A" self-starter. I am extremely organized, abundantly creative, and fiercely independant. But I'm also lazy and I hate the "entrepreneurial" side of business. One of the reasons I turned my back on the acting world (at least for the time being) is that I hated having to constantly promote myself. It was like being on a never-ending job interview. I fear that the procuring clients aspect and marketing aspect of starting my own business will be too daunting to me, even though i want the freedom and flexibility to be beholden to no one.

This is a limited time opportunity. I need to take advantage of it now. I've been assured that if I have special side projects, I would be free to pursue them. If I choose to build a client base that is not at all in conflict with their client base, I could see clients outside of their practice. I would be supported in building and leading workshops. This could be a golden freaking opportunity. I wonder if it is only my own fears of the unknown that is holding me back. Am I afraid of success?

I know that, however well intentioned people are, and however well crafted Joshua's methods for business building are, it is really really hard to make it on your own. It is extremely difficult to build a successful business, especially if one is doing it all by themselves. Would I be well advised to take advantage of what is being offered to me?

I know nobody would be able to give me 'THE ANSWER'. I know I can only come to that decision for myself. But I would greatly appreciate any input or advice.

Skool Daze

Addendum and update to my First Weekend Back At School.

I realized today how much of my distaste for the kiddies who drank the Koolaid was actually about my own fears and resistances. I erect walls of defense when I am afraid of being seen. Or not being seen. Or being lost in a crowd. Or standing out in a crowd.

Thankfully, though my resistances (and teenage rebellions) used to last months, then weeks, then days... I grew out of it by lunchtime today. Now I'm seeking connection via the IIN online community.

I'm so grateful that I am aware enough of my own process to realize my own issues, experience them, explore them, and move through them. Wow, I'm all growned up and junk.

BUT I'M STILL NOT DRINKING ANY KOOLAID, DAMMIT!!!