And it begins . . . Again.

Insomnia. I crave sleep. I need sleep. I LOVE TO SLEEP. But inside this head is a jumble of thoughts, lists, feelings, guilts, and stuffs. I have never been known as a logical person. No, I am an emotional person. I live by my emotions and logic and sense have so very little to do with what... I do. I have always been able to love quickly, and cry easily. These are traits of mine that I have tried to suppress and hide my whole life. I have tried holding my breath when I feel that tightness in my throat that, wettness pool at the brim of my eyes. That generally leads to an embarassing outburts of breath with an overly pent-up sob following. So, needless to say that holding your breath does little to hold back tears. I have tried looking up at the ceiling to help the tears melt back into the eye sockets. I always think this will work. I always imagine that when I put my face back down that the tears will have dissapeared back to where they originated. Does this work? You guess. Yup, it sure doesn't. I've tried the ever classic close the eyes real tight routine in hopes that it that may jail up the ever flowing rascals. No cell can hold back my tears, they always find a way to break through the tight lids of their prison. Now, love quickly . . . I've gotten better at this. Sadly. Yes, very sadly.
Like most, but few admit to, I want to be accepted and liked by those I know. I have always craved the spotlight. I blame this on my parents. They raised me to be a performer. I don't just perform music, I perform to whomever I am with. I love to make others laugh, though I am far from clever or witty. Silly and ridiculous, yes. But, not witty. I always thought myself a person that one could easily like. Unfortunately, I am not always liked by each and every person I come in contact with. Now, given my sensitive nature, I always feel this unliking. I feel it so deeply and I hurt so much because of it. Even if it may be only an idea or trait of mine that someone dislikes, I still feel it greatly. I have been told since I was little that I shouldn't be so sensitive. But, alas, I cannot shake this from me. I take things to heart, and those "things" tend to wound it. After years, (and I do admit I don't have too many to my credit but I believe I still have enough to credit the time I have lived as "years"), I have found that the best way to avoid being wounded by the "things" of those around me is to seclude myself from them.
Im sorry if I may not be making perfect sense, but it is late...you dont have to read this if you feel I talking nonsense.
I moved a few times when I was a teenager. I moved once when I was thirteen, and then again at 16, and of course again at 18 when I left for college. I thought my life would end, as many dramatic, emotional teenagers would in my same situation. But, each time it worked out. I sure made a fuss and shed my share of undeserved tears, but in the end, I was fine. And, some might say I am now stronger. Perhaps, it may be a stretch though, even wiser because of it. One thing I did learn, or so I thought, was how to make new friends. Given my need to be liked, and my knack for performance, I generally fared pretty well when on the prowl for friends. I was even lucky enough to pass through my LONG lasting akward phase and score a boyfriend or two in the scheme of things. I tried my best to ice down the wounds that followed when I discovered someone didn't like me. I guess my teenage shallowness helped, because I think I remember fewer wounds from those years. Then, as life moved on, as it generally tends to do, came the goodbyes and the tears. The long embraces and the promises exchanged to always stay in touch. BFF right. And then . . . the wounding.
I suppose I disliked this saying goodbye and I disliked the hurt so much that I decided I was done with it. I think I really put myself out of touch after a couple years of college. In short, to spare you the pittifull details, I found myself quite lonely. Blessedly, I still had some wonderful friends, and my perfect family, who helped me. I slowly became the person I was before. I dared to open myself up to others, to withstand the dislike so I may be joyful in the love shared between people. This is when I met my husband. No one in the world has made my happy like he does. No one in the world has made me feel love like he. No one has made me hurt like he does. I still cry too easily and take too much to heart. But, it is who I am. Take me with my tears and sensitivity, or leave me. And he took me. And he still does. Everyday. He takes me the way I am and loves me.
I realize this statement is far from original and has been overused to the point that it may be sickening. But, I sure am happy for it. I am happy that it is the way it is. I dont have to perform and hope that he will like me for me. I already know that he does. We all take the ones in our lives and love them with their weaknesses. How else would we ever be loved by one another. A lesson hard learned. In the wise, but cheesy, words of Michael Mclean "I can't please everyone. I know, because I've tried. I told myself I could and then found out I lied. So many times we live and learn. And then we truly see. That I can't please anyone, until I'm pleased with me."
So, here is this lengthy blog post from an emotional lover, who is grateful to be taken the way she is.
Goodnight to all.