Bloggy Onanism

I spend a considerable amount of time worrying.

I spend a great deal of energy on feeling jealous, envious, and dissatisfied.

I spend hours upon hours doubting, disbelieving, denegrating, and devaluing myself.

That's alot of spending.  Is it any wonder I'm in the red, spiritually? 

It looks like I'll seriously need to start investing somehow, in my soul, in my self worth, in my emotional well-being.

But how?  Habits are so damned hard to break, aren't they?

Even as I write this there are a dozen niggling little negative thoughts creeping, and sneaking, and clamboring to break down my will and my wishes. 

And I try to shrug the negativity off, I try to dismiss it, make it vanish.  Who cares what other people are doing?  Who cares how seemingly happy and contented they are?  Who cares what other people will say when they look at my life and my choices?  Other people are not the rubric against which I should be measuring my life.  Other people's successes and failures are neither affirmation nor condemnation of my life choices.

If I don't want children, that is fine; so long as I've made the decision in a healthy, open-minded, positive state of being.  (As opposed to my glum, sour, suicidal state of being yesterday, wherein I watched a young mother bent over picking up toys from the yard and I decided: "Fuck that.  I don't want to spend the rest of my life picking up after some useless, needy, selfish, oblivious, ungrateful little fucking parasites.  I'm NEVER HAVING KIDS!"  That, wouldn't you agree, seems like perhaps an extreme reaction, and a severely jaded view of the circle of life.  HOWEVER, it is fair to weigh my very real distatste for cleaning up after other people, my passionate dislike for cleaning AT ALL, and my intolerance for ingrates, against the reality of child rearing.  It just may be that I really am not that's going to do well in the thankless job of parenting.)

If those whom I have loved move on and flourish, I should either A) be happy for them, and wish them all success and happiness (doesn't that sound magnanimous?)
or B) stop giving a flying fuck what they're up to, who they're fucking, who they're lavishing their love and affection on now, or why they do the things they do, say the things they say, or choose to interact with me they way they do.  Guess what?  It is NOT MY LIFE.  I cannot control the actions or words of others, I can only control my reaction\response to it.  I must work on taking any news in, processing it privately (without torturing myself, without attaching blame or judgment, without oscillating between calling myself a stupid cunt or them all manner of awful spithets, and without regretting I ever knew them!!), and then move the fuck forward, because nothing I say or do will matter in the least.  They are living their life, and I must live mine.
(Incidentally, this is another good reason not to have children.  I believe it is a child's function to break your heart, frustrate you to tears, ignore sound advice, and then eventually leave you and move on with their life.  Ok, that was rather pessimistic in some respects, but honestly?  Are all the cute icecream parties worth it in the end if Litte Reardon decides to become a meth addict, or a republican, or just an all-out bitch?  No thanks.)


If I choose to do the off-beat thing, I must have the courage of my convictions, the fortitude, the balls, and the sticktoitiveness to make my own success---or die trying.  Ok, the end bit was fairly dramatic, but you get what I mean.  People will pass judgment.  They will say things.  They will make assumptions, they may pity me (a peeve of mine), they may predict my failure and my doom.  Who knows, and who cares.  I must STOP caring about their opinions and their views.  My choices are not theirs, and I am the only one who will have to live with the end result. 

Whatever.  If I want a salad from the stop n shop salad bar for lunch, I have to leave early for work; and I DO want a salad from the stop n shop salad bar, so I'mma need to end my blog post here. 

Bloggus Interruptus.  Was it good for you?  Probably not, right? but I got something out of it! lolz.