Oh fuck. You have no idea what it's like to be me. Of course, I also have no idea what it's like to be you but we are talking about me here? Hello? Me? Pay attention!
Ya. Stoned.
I hate it when I don't like being me. I like being me. I really like being me. About 95% of the time I like being me... but that fucking other 5% fucks it up for everyone else. God, I have to work on her, don't I? The jealous girl? That part of me that hates every good looking woman on the face of the planet. How odd... I never read it as jealously before but mother fucker, all I wanted to do was leave and cry and go to McDonald's. Oops... let's go back a minute or two.
I love this program that I am doing. I love the people... I have not been in a setting like this in so long. Like, since Newfoundland, almost. Like, high school. All the cool kids go to lunch everyday... but I really make an effort to let everyone know that they're invited. My version of high school = no cliques. This is where I am me at my finest... almost. And every mistake is a step closer to getting it right. I'm struggling, I really am. This is hard. I am already past where I would normally be. Of course, I go every day so its hard to lose the edge. Like swimming lessons. And step class. And dancing lessons. And probably a billion other things that I have started and stopped. School. Guitar.
It's hard. I am learning a lot but that's not what's hard. It's dealing with all of these different people every day. I have no choice but to be me. There's no one to impress, there's no one to embarrass, no one to say "oh, aren't you smart with your big words?" There's no one to let down so I am free to be me. Sure the people in my course might think badly of me but no one that I care about. And, honestly, I don't think anyone does think badly of me. If they do and they are talking about me behind my back, I am absolutely okay with that. Go crazy! Say whatever you want. I have no idea, I am oblivious and I intend to keep it that way. No, my head isn't in the sand, I recognize the obvious signs that people aren't really interested in talking to me. That's okay. No one likes everyone and no everyone likes one. I can not help it if someone is being nice to my face while laughing behind my back or whatever and if they have enough of a problem, I will be able to tell. But if someone is writing shit about me on the blackboard during recess, isn't that more of a reflection on him? Really? That shit does not bother me. (Anymore, okay? I said it doesn't bother me anymore! lol)
It's when four of us go out for a beer. And it's me and Susan and Dave and Russell. And I am so jealous! So jealous! It's not that I want to be like her or look like her. Susan is beautiful and I really like her. Actually, if there was any woman that I would want to put the moves on, it's her. (That's so funny... I kill me, man! Who says shit like that? But it's how I feel.) So, Mom was wrong when she said that I always wanted to be little like my childhood/teenage best friend, Sue. That was her baggage.
What I wanted was for people to look at me and treat me like they did Sue. Like they look at and treat Susan. But, and here's the catch, for people to look and treat me that way, I would have to act that way. I would have to be soft and delicate and needing to be taken care of. I would have to gag and giggle and flip my hair and tell everyone about how my boyfriend fucked around on me. So, no.
Unfortunately, that doesn't help.
I'm just so different. I'm so different. Not like a girl at all. Stacey might have taught me to carry a purse but I'm not like the other girls.
And that does help! I'm not like the other girls and I don't want to be like the other girls. I can't be like the other girls. I am me and I have to be or I will never be happy. Oh, yeah, my days of faking it are over. Long over. And the moody shit is under control, too. All that's left is this spare tire. Seriously. I don't think that people dislike me because I'm fat, I don't think that no man will ever love me because I'm fat. I think - I know - that I will never get the man that I want while I am fat.
So I need to be less fat. (Have I heard this somewhere before??)
But, fat or not fat, I am not going to be jealous of the way men look at Susan. I don't want to act like Susan (sorry, Susan - if you ever read this - I love you like crazy... this is just old shit... it's nice to set it free but I didn't even know it was there!). And because I don't want to act like Susan, men will not look at me like they do Susan. We both have our strengths. Maybe she is a bit jealous of me. Maybe her need to command the room is because that's what I do. (my aren't we full of ourselves, hmmm?) My joking around and smartass remarking is not helping them, not pleasing them. And I say "them" now because I just realized that the smartassing is what I do to Winn (our facilitator) and I take a bit of her wind. It's not that I plan to be anyone that I'm not or that I will pull back and shrink so that I won't take their spotlight. OMG! MAYBE I TOOK MY MOTHER'S WIND! (fuck, it seriously kills me how much I sound like I'm fuckin' full of my self! I'm really not... I don't think!)
I'm not even consciously trying to get attention. I was thinking of that earlier. I am not looking for rewards. I'm not looking for hugs and looks of pity. Not for me. I think I just want to be awesome at everything and in every way. But guess what? No one is awesome in everything and no everything awesome is in one. I kind of hog the spotlight sometimes. And, like my mother said when trying to make me understand why she kinda forgot about me when I was a kid, you don't pay attention to the one who is doing good because you have to put so much effort into the one who is having problems. When it comes to attention, you almost get punished for behaving or doing well and rewarded for getting into trouble. Perhaps my commanding attention comes from my understanding that it's the only way I can get it and be true to myself.
