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Jun. 11th, 2009 06:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
afufleAnother post because I am nervous today. Nervous and I feel like talking about it. I have been feeling very lonely lately, and I think it is because I am coming to the bottom of a lot of hiding away, isolating and withdrawal.
I keep trying to survive and not lean on the people who are around me ready to help. I know I have been very hard on myself in a lot of ways, and need to learn to trust more. But genuine trust doesn't come in a bottle. Lol, nor could I afford it, probably if I could.
I am in a mad dash to stay connected with people, have the urge to call everyone I know to re-establish relations, like my dad with whom I have little connection. But I know last year I wrote him a thankyou note for my b-day card and check, then did not contact him at Christmas. I really am scared that underneath it all, I have the idea that I trust in money, even though I never darned well have any. And when I get it, it really doesn't make me happy, it is never enough anyway.
I feel crappy, whiny and closed off. It is odd that the central theme in my life is wanting to trust in Jesus, but I never much talk about it, because I feel like a phony. It sounds like something someone else told me to do, but I don't think it is.
I went to the local convenience store this morning, cried because I was so upset about the lost money--or more likely because of whatever is at the root of why I keep just letting it get stolen or misplaced. When I was very little, my mom gave me a doll that she made herself. My older brother tortured it, said it was a Nazi, and hung it from a dresser drawer knob. I then thought it was bad, and evil, so I gave it to a friend who said she liked it, thought it was good. It made sense to me.
Little did I know that my mom was so disappointed. I tried to get hold of that friend for years, but she never answered back my letters. I don't know if that is the basis for my misery, considering that decades later, my mom talked me into having an abortion. I know my purse with the group's literature money was lost in connection with the losss of the baby, I know that now. I could not figure out what was going on. I just know I was looking at a newborn baby that morning, and later went to the library and was looking at a statue in the Childrens' library garden, a parent holding a little child, helping the child read a book. I'm getting tears in my eyes now, and starting to cry at the library. AT least now I know about it, I could have had to wait 40 more years or died being hit by a car distracted by the sight of a mother holding a child.
I keep trying to survive and not lean on the people who are around me ready to help. I know I have been very hard on myself in a lot of ways, and need to learn to trust more. But genuine trust doesn't come in a bottle. Lol, nor could I afford it, probably if I could.
I am in a mad dash to stay connected with people, have the urge to call everyone I know to re-establish relations, like my dad with whom I have little connection. But I know last year I wrote him a thankyou note for my b-day card and check, then did not contact him at Christmas. I really am scared that underneath it all, I have the idea that I trust in money, even though I never darned well have any. And when I get it, it really doesn't make me happy, it is never enough anyway.
I feel crappy, whiny and closed off. It is odd that the central theme in my life is wanting to trust in Jesus, but I never much talk about it, because I feel like a phony. It sounds like something someone else told me to do, but I don't think it is.
I went to the local convenience store this morning, cried because I was so upset about the lost money--or more likely because of whatever is at the root of why I keep just letting it get stolen or misplaced. When I was very little, my mom gave me a doll that she made herself. My older brother tortured it, said it was a Nazi, and hung it from a dresser drawer knob. I then thought it was bad, and evil, so I gave it to a friend who said she liked it, thought it was good. It made sense to me.
Little did I know that my mom was so disappointed. I tried to get hold of that friend for years, but she never answered back my letters. I don't know if that is the basis for my misery, considering that decades later, my mom talked me into having an abortion. I know my purse with the group's literature money was lost in connection with the losss of the baby, I know that now. I could not figure out what was going on. I just know I was looking at a newborn baby that morning, and later went to the library and was looking at a statue in the Childrens' library garden, a parent holding a little child, helping the child read a book. I'm getting tears in my eyes now, and starting to cry at the library. AT least now I know about it, I could have had to wait 40 more years or died being hit by a car distracted by the sight of a mother holding a child.
