Today’s first is bs and it kind of pisses me off. I don’t really have one. So it’s my first day without a specific first – it kind of counts but I don’t want to allow it after official review. I’m pissed because I had the time to find one. To learn about something on wiki and get hooked like I did on Day One. Time to try something new – and I didn’t make sure to do it. So now I’m scrambling to try and get something, anything, posted.

It pisses me off that once again I’m not giving myself the time I need to complete a task that is important to me. Everyone does this, so perhaps I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, but I am going to be. If I’m not then who will be?

I was thinking about the priorities in my life and how messed up they can get. How I have always set myself to impossible standards, to other people’s standards, to standards I imagined friends and family held me to. How many times have I made sure to find time to count calories to lose weight to live up to some stupid f^&*ing standard of beauty? Gotten up ridiculously early to get an extra workout in? Stayed up for days on end with hardly any sleep to ace exams so my family wouldn’t be disappointed in me? How many years wasted at the high paying, mind-numbing corporate job because security and money is important and that should make me happy? Right?

Am I creating all of this in my head? Was it all imagined? Did they ever really care about any of my bs? Have they only ever been happy that I am happy? Does it matter? I don’t know.

And here I sit – mind swirling with questions that seem so important; yet all I want to do is not know and to be ok in that ignorance. To move on. To not even care to ask those questions anymore. To move forward with my life and be comforted knowing that I am going to be seeking happiness and that is going to be enough for anyone in my life worth keeping there. Too harsh? Maybe. But  why am I just now starting to really worry about what makes me happy? I feel like I don’t even know what makes me happy because I’ve been trying so hard, for so long, to appear normal and steady.

I’ve got a lot of work to do.

Day Two and here I am already freaking out about what the hell I am going to possibly write about each and every day for seven weeks. Are you kidding me? What was I thinking.

I did finally break own and admit some of my greatest fears to my one and only. That was a scary first – certainly not as fun as dancing to edm on a Friday afternoon.  And I ugly cried. Like really Claire Danes in William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet breaking down ugly cried. Which doesn’t help the feeling of all-encompassing failure that accompanied my admissions. Nothing like waiting for the crazy to hit the fan. Part of the problem is not having any faith in my own ability to attract anyone’s love and compassion enough to entice them to stick with me through the deepest and darkest. It’s not, therefore, a matter of not trusting a person enough with the secret, so much as not trusting your own ability to be loved despite said secret.

I’ve begun to surface again these past few weeks. I can sometimes breath easier and feel lighter then I have in months. It’s amazing how physical depression is. It’s exhausting to be in my own head. Not being able to picture yourself growing old. Feeling destined for an early grave. Seeing it n your family, in your past, it’s easy to see it in your own future. Laid out before you.

I am dreading tomorrow. The return of yoga training and learning once again how physically inferior I am to so many people. Tomorrow my first might have to be accepting some limits once and for all.