Standing Beside Myself

I wake up with songs in my head and finally I'm listening to them and here's what happens...

My body stirs ever so slightly and through the lids of my still closed eyes I can sense the morning light around me. I hear "it's just another sad love song, racking my heart like crazy" and hear the harmony and melodic alto of Toni Braxton. I slowly begin opening my eyes and the word disgust fills my mind.

Toni is no longer singing and my eyes are open and this thought comes rushing out.

What is she singing about? Another sad love song, loves songs are about being sad? Really, cause I don't think so. Each and everyone of us experiences unconditional love when we wake up each morning (and hey, by the way you woke up didn't you this morning, then you've experienced it) then love is not bad. Bad love songs, yes, but sad love and song together, NO FREAKIN WAY. That thought leaves as quickly as it came and is replace with . . .

. . .

. . .

yeah I got crickets on the brain. And the echo of the ghost of the melody of a song becomes background noise and doesn't go away. (Even now as I type this many hours later.)

Then my body reminds me it is awake and has desires, you know like peeing and moving around.

The hyperactive dog stirs, jumps off the bed in anticipation of petting and playing and I roll over and stretch myself out from under the cover. The 40 degree air is my first morning shot of high octane espresso.

I'm up and my bodies routine takes over while the echo of "And it's all because of yoooooouuuuuuuuuu" merges more deeply into the soundtrack of my day.

My day begins, melody still echoing, body in routine, mind still waking up.

Computer on, coffee made, dogs out, treats in bowl, fresh water, wash face, brush teeth, sit down in front of the computer and focus eyes on the screen while sipping fresh coffee.

Time passes.

I run my morning errands, I'm driving home and a song comes on the radio, grabbing my attention.

Oh so now "I'm not gonna cry, cuz you're not worth my tears," croons Mary J. Blige and I'm realizing, this entire song is about a relationship in which the woman gives up herself, her dreams, her desires, her independence, her perspectives, her emotional life.

Oh wait, shit, that's me and my relationship with me.

It's a song about how once she has I have given all that up for the man some love and how he I no longer respect her myself and leave her myself feeling disgusted and disgusting standing there, damned if she I fight him with myself for all she's I'm worth because he'll I'll either use an excuse saying, I didn't make you give up anything, you chose to do that, I didn't force you. You could have said no . . .

. . . gahhhh no wonder disgust fills me for me.

I disgust me and when the disgusting, disgusted me tries to give myself things like self-care, self-acceptance, self-love, gentleness or compassion I think I am trying to get myself to do something which sounds, feels and appears to be foreign, unpleasant, manipulative and exploitative.

Wow, I'm hiding the essence of me from myself because I'll only exploit the essence of me and manipulate the essence of me to get what I want from myself.

Okay now I'm perfectly freaked out because that revelation didn't really hit me until I typed that sentence.

I'm not sure I want to process any of that, yet the walls surround me on three sides and the only opening is behind me. I don't want to assume anything about what is behind me, yet I'm afraid to look there, to step back or to turn around.

Then I remember something I read last night from Dawna Markova's "No Enemies Within" about being curious, "Take yourself for a walk - your hurting self, your shadow self, [your disgusting, disgusted self], your internal enemy . . . Pretend it is next to you instead of inside of you, or in front of you . . . I'm not asking you to have a major relationship at this point. Just make space enough inside your mind to be curious." pg 234

So that is my intent. I'll be back.

Even If. . . I AM Still

Some other things showed up today after I read the Editorial Guidelines and Author Terms of Service over at EzineArticles.

As as new friend says, icky poo caca, because I have to be approved. Well not exactly, my first article has to be approved and that means I, as in the person writing the articles need approval. Icky poo caca

What if they don't like me?
Hello, you mean what if they don't like the article right? Because it's an article, not you silly.

Well, fine, what if they don't like my article? Then it means we can't write worth a flip doesn't it, well doesn't it? And if I can't write worth a flip, then we the person with all these feelings and thoughts and ideas and plans, then me, we are not worth a flip.

These esteem issues and external validation monsters and all these poorly designed connections and perceptions and associations are Icky poo caca.

No really something much stronger is necessary. Puta la huea as a Chilean friend would say. Yes that is much better.

So how do I disconnect that association - the approval or disapproval of my writing so it is not connected to my approval or disapproval of me, Minerva?

I'm not even going to deal with the logical aspects of this connection because logic didn't create it.

I remember writing assignments from elementary school, middle school, high school and junior college and university. First I always waited until the last minute to do the writing. The process of writing scared me. Then because I waited until the last minute, my writing process became panicky and frantic.

Due to said panic and franticness, when I turned in any written assignment, some part of me said, whew, as long as it gets me a good grade and they like it, then I'm okay.

I effectively handed the teacher or professor my power. I believe at first it only linked to the writing assignment, if they liked it, then I liked it. I'm okay.

Yet, if they didn't like the writing assignment, then I wasn't okay. After having this happen a few times, the thought shifted to, if they liked the writing assignment, then they like and validate me. If they don't like the writing assignment, then they don't like or validate me.

See I told you there was no logic to it. I even think I can pinpoint when the shift happened. 7th grade. My 7th grade English teacher questioned my ability to have some insight about Vermeer, which was not discussed in class. I was threatened with an F unless and until I physically produced every single source I used to gather information for that paper.

That English teacher hated me.

I wrote my last paper for university in Fall 2004 and it's sitting next to me right now. The professor left several marks and notes on it. The very first note on the first page validates me as I read it. I feel the the smugness course through me. Ha, I picked up on something the professor didn't even mention in the class. See 7th grade teacher, I can have insights on my own. I am capable of it.

I accepted that 7th grade teachers beliefs about me. She and anyone else with whom I share my writing with must accept me for me to accept myself.

This is confirmed for me when I read the next note on the university assignment. This is a run-on sentence. Natch, now my emotional pendulum swings to this professor hates me. It's totally illogical. And it happens.

While I allowed external validation to twist me up and associate my likability with my writing ability, it's just not true. People will like some of what I write. Heck I'll like some of what I write. EzineArticles will like some of what I write. I will still like me even if I don't like what I write.

So...have I submitted the article yet? Uhm no sadly, because the technical issues are something else entirely. No not technically how to submit the article, but how to follow Editorial Guidelines for the resource box using blogger. There is no need to give EzineArticles any other reason to reject me my writing, than necessary.

I'll keep repeating the following to remind me.

Rejection of my writing is not a rejection of me.

Acceptance of my writing is not an acceptance of me.

Even if EzineArticles rejects my writing, they are not rejecting me as a person and I'll still like me.

I'm going to figure out this technical issue before I turn myself off to the whole process.