I wish I knew how to have fun like my sister does
(Note: This is a radio-edited entry because a couple of my thoughts aren't G rated. The words that would be cusses will be replaced by this: (cuckoo))
Today my sister stopped by for a little while this morning. She had just picked out music for her wedding (I figure I'll be panicking about that soon even though I play essentially no role other than showing up) and was on her way to play mini-putt with a couple of pals.
She also bought something she'd bought from Costco. A giant teddy bear that was 53 (cuckoo) inches high. That's right, 53 inches. It instantly triggered me when I saw it because it was a little too cuddly (Maybe I need to fess now: in my room there is a much smaller, more normal size, plush bunny, bought on a night when I was having a quiet emotional breakdown inside a now-defunct Borders. It keeps me company at night. Yes, I know I'm 33, but I have loneliness issues that are still yet to come out, and I don't know when I'll be able to talk about them to someone here.)
I looked at it for one second and asked her, "Why?"
"Because I can," and giggles followed.
I can't say I was amused. I actually wanted to (cuckoo) cry (which I seem to be doing right now). Thank goodness there was an alternate spot for my stretches already set up for me (with the bear out of sight, those went okay).
Part of me is (cuckoo) jealous of her, really. She finds ways to entertain herself to take the edge off her often-demanding job as head of the music department at a technical high school. I wish I could do the same, but I've spent so many years hiding behind stuff that I don't know what it means to have fun anymore. Everything has become serious with me out of a perceived need to make up for all the time that I've lost letting myself float after the HS years that basically scarred me for life...
...and I know in my heart that this just makes things hurt more. But the hiding connotation won't go away, and I swear it's stopping me from exploring other avenues that could help me get back what I feel I lost.
Today my sister stopped by for a little while this morning. She had just picked out music for her wedding (I figure I'll be panicking about that soon even though I play essentially no role other than showing up) and was on her way to play mini-putt with a couple of pals.
She also bought something she'd bought from Costco. A giant teddy bear that was 53 (cuckoo) inches high. That's right, 53 inches. It instantly triggered me when I saw it because it was a little too cuddly (Maybe I need to fess now: in my room there is a much smaller, more normal size, plush bunny, bought on a night when I was having a quiet emotional breakdown inside a now-defunct Borders. It keeps me company at night. Yes, I know I'm 33, but I have loneliness issues that are still yet to come out, and I don't know when I'll be able to talk about them to someone here.)
I looked at it for one second and asked her, "Why?"
"Because I can," and giggles followed.
I can't say I was amused. I actually wanted to (cuckoo) cry (which I seem to be doing right now). Thank goodness there was an alternate spot for my stretches already set up for me (with the bear out of sight, those went okay).
Part of me is (cuckoo) jealous of her, really. She finds ways to entertain herself to take the edge off her often-demanding job as head of the music department at a technical high school. I wish I could do the same, but I've spent so many years hiding behind stuff that I don't know what it means to have fun anymore. Everything has become serious with me out of a perceived need to make up for all the time that I've lost letting myself float after the HS years that basically scarred me for life...
...and I know in my heart that this just makes things hurt more. But the hiding connotation won't go away, and I swear it's stopping me from exploring other avenues that could help me get back what I feel I lost.
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Hugs to you I\'m always here to talk if you need too.