catiedid

I want to run, but there is no place to go

I want to take a walk and hold a loving hand

I want to feel

I want the rain to stop so the dogs stop making a mess of my floors

I want a little house filled with a lot of love

I want words spoken not yelled

I want to go out to dinner without drama

I want peace

I want a new hair color

I want to lose 7 pounds

I want to learn to make Carrot Ginger Bisque for Thanksgiving dinner

I want my kids to be unaffected

I want to like myself

I want to be comfortable in my own skin

I want to go back to school

I want to do something significant with my life

I want to spend a day taking pictures

I want to spend a day happy

I want my book published

I want to start decorating for Christmas

I want peace on earth good will toward men

When I was in high school and needed to run away, I would only go as far as my backyard. I grew up on a lake in a wonderful little NW Indiana town. I spent most of my teen years with the urge to run away and spent many hours on the dock, watching the ducks swim or the leaves fall or the breeze on the water, always journal in hand pouring out my teen angst onto page after page.

I talked to my mom last night. Not sure how we got on the subject of my youth, but she went on and on about how self-assured I was. From the time I was a young girl all through high school she remembers me having no fear. I always put myself out there and more often than not kicked ass at whatever I chose to do. So I asked my mom So when did I change? She seemed confused by my question. Maybe Ive been gone so long she hasnt noticed the change. Or maybe in the eyes of my family, I havent changed. I spent college taking every huge lecture class possible so that I could hide in the back and blend. Discussion classes caused minor panic attacks. I hated speaking in class. The only small classes I could handle were the writing classes. I could handle, for whatever reason, people critiquing my writing. As long as the people werent friends and I honestly, in the end, didnt care what they thought of my writing anyway.

So now, all those little insecurities seem to be coming back upon me tenfold. My cool self-assurance on the outside is hiding the insecurities on the inside. Put me on a football field in go-go boots and sequins in front a several thousand people and I feel at home, put me in a classroom of first graders with other parents and it takes me an hour to figure out what I am going to wear and I completely freak out over the situation; just seems so silly really.

I need a job. I think that would make me feel tons better.

My therapist wants to put me on anti depressants. But I dont want to stop feeling completely, even if all I feel is sadness, and I dont want artificial happiness. Arent we all tortured souls in some way? Ill kick my ass out of this without help from some stupid pill.

Ill get a manicure.