This was supposed to be my own special days, alas that didn’t happen. I forgot how it used to be in summers past, when I ran, always a tad behind the schedule,always with a guilty conscience because of Dog left at home. Those summers I worked a lot more than now, but I was also a lot younger….now I work less, but get as tired as then. Funny how age does matter. I’m not at all old, but still, older than I used to be. I don’t really care that much, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t matter at all.
I thought to get in contact again with my estranged father. I was the “estranger”, having totally and completely lost my patience with the way our “relation” was. Now, I can admit it, I feel that bygones are just that, bygones, but I still haven’t gotten around to he actual contact-taking again. Maybe it’s not as important to me as I thought, then, some weeks ago, or maybe it’s just the fact that time rolls over me like a tsunami, leaving me always short of breath, flailing my arms above my head not to sink.
There’s been so much to think about lately, but it’s odd how when I try and think back to recapture, to share my thougths I draw blanks, again and again. So maby times each day there’s a little something poppig up, and I think “Yes! this is what I would like to ask, tell,share”, and now, nothing. Sometimes I wonder about the ulteriour (did I spell this right, I wonder…) motive. Why….is it so important to share? It’s not as if I get a ton of feedback, catering to my need of being seen, heard. Am I just feeling clever? Trying to show off? Again, without anyone ever putting in the proverbial two cents, what’s to show? Oh I don’t know. There are times when I get tiredof myself and my endless toing and froing. It seems to me that I’m lacking in some fundametal backbone sort of thing….Or maybe I’m just like this because I’m so tired….and wired…Wired from the stress of getting it all down pat. Ofcourse I don’t need to always perform at top level, but then again, this is the way I was brought up, and even though I do set some limits now that weren’t there before, I try too hard. Knowing is maybe a way to betterment, but I feel that it’s getting too easy saying “I know…I will change, stop, think,…later” . Sort of getting in the first laugh at oneself, to make it hurt less.
Control is something I never saw myself as someone in need of. But still, as I scamper behind my own agenda, filling post-it after post-it with things to do, I wonder. I feel bad running behind, and some nights I clench my jaws so hard in my sleep I feel ill in the morning. I did manage to stop excessive eating, in five years I’ve lost 20 kilos. I do manage to drink just enough, hangover is never an option, and neither is drinking “because I’m bored, tired, sad, happy…” The one thing I just can’t get a handle on is biting my nails. Maybe this is such a deeply rooted disorder that I have to live with it forever. Like my facial paralysis (even though it now seems things can be done..), or psoriasis (no not mine), or being deaf. Strangely, I find that hard to deal with. I very much need an explanation, maybe then I can see the way to a solution. Probably if I surf the Web enough something’ll turn up. A freind told me once that I was a control-freak. I took offence in a mayor albeit quiet way! But maybe she was right. Struggling to straigthen myself out may vey well be just that, struggle for control. Admittedly, I still don’t see it. To me being a control-freak means someone who needs to control his or hers surroundings, or people surrounding. I couldn’t care less what other people do, even though I’ll admit to having an opinion about most things people do, say, wear……but that’s a resdue of my early contitioning, and its’ really really hard to get rid of. I’m forever trying! One thing I’ve found otu about my biting though, when my inhibitions get softened, like with an extra glass of wine…I bite more freely. What does that mean? I can’t see it, and it bugs me! On the other hand I can just as well starting to bit my nails while driving my car…it’s all a mystery.