Just be

I don't think I remember how to just be.

If it's not been one person it's been another, some asked, and some not, telling me how I should think, what I should feel, and what I should do to fix what's wrong with me. And on the occasion when no one else has been available to offer their insight, I've been more then ready to jump in with self criticism and demands, second guessing everything I do, my head spinning with alternative viewpoints and solutions, trying to please everyone and my own high standards at once, and not doing a very good job at any of it.

 I've spent about a year seeing a therapist, and a couple of intense years on my own before that pulling out one layer of belly button lint after another, trying to uncover the root of my problems, and I dont know if I'm actually any better off now for the knowing, than I was before I began this journey.  I don't believe I'm any happier than I use to be.  ... I have to say, there was really something quite blissful about my ignorance.

I can't pretend that I don't know that I have this anxious attachment problem. I've lost too many friends because of it to ignore it and not try to fix it. I have a responsibility to myself and those in my life to do so. But I'm tired of it all; I really am.

It's not that I'll ever become light and frivolous, that's not me.  I'll aways be a deep thinker, I'll always have a fondness for introspection, and I'm always going to want to do the right thing.  It's just that after all of it, I don't think I can trust myself enough to simply just be, and I'm not even certain that I should. 

Life use to be about being spontaneous, flying as high as I could, knowing God, or the Divine, or whatever you call it, though the sheer joy of life, love and living.  ... That was my plan anyway.

It's not working out that way at all.