Every time I rediscover Alanis Morissette, I love her more.
"Not All Me"
I wear their faces all on top of my face
I am the perfect target screen
For your blindly fueled rage
I bare the brunt of your long buried pain
I don't mind helping you out
But I want you to remember my name
It's not all me
It's not all my fault
I may remind you, but I won't take it all on
Past riddled rage
I see the buttons I engage
With my dignity in place?
I'm all too happy to assuage
It's not all me
It's not all my fault
I may remind you, but I won't take it all on
Lest I find my voice
Find the strength to stand up to you
Lest I stay to my limit
And only take on what is mine to
We are a team
I'm here to help mend and reseam
All I trigger unknowingly
A job I hold in high esteem
It's not all me
It's not all my fault
I may remind you, but I won't take it all on
It's not all me
It's not all my fault
I may remind you, but I won't take it all on
I'll only take some of it
Monday, April 25, 2011
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Stepping Back
I've always thought "taking a step back" was a good idea when processing a problem. You get a sense of the bigger issue, you see things from a new point of view, and you can distance yourself from the emotions involved with whatever it is you're thinking about.
The thing is, sometimes when you take a step back, you can't see the problem anymore.
Take my house, for example. From across the street, it looks great. Green grass, pretty color on the outside, fun little gables and a white picket fence. (No kidding.) But when you step a little closer you can see some of the stuff that really needs to have some attention. There's a corner of the lawn that's all crabgrass. The planter around the mailbox needs mulch. Some of the trim by the door is rotting. On the whole, the house looks pretty good, but those little problems add up, and you can't just leave them until you can tell from across the street that your house is a mess.
I've been working on getting my "house" in order. That's part of why I'm doing my 30 Before 30 list-- it's just the little push I need to try new things and get out of my various ruts. And I'm doing my best to look at the pieces of my life that maybe other people can't see from across the street. Those things are important, and they need maintenance just as much as a caved in roof or a completely dead lawn.
And maybe you don't (and can't) understand what they are to me, and why I have to do what I have to do, because you're a step too far back. I'm working on being ok with that.
The thing is, sometimes when you take a step back, you can't see the problem anymore.
Take my house, for example. From across the street, it looks great. Green grass, pretty color on the outside, fun little gables and a white picket fence. (No kidding.) But when you step a little closer you can see some of the stuff that really needs to have some attention. There's a corner of the lawn that's all crabgrass. The planter around the mailbox needs mulch. Some of the trim by the door is rotting. On the whole, the house looks pretty good, but those little problems add up, and you can't just leave them until you can tell from across the street that your house is a mess.
I've been working on getting my "house" in order. That's part of why I'm doing my 30 Before 30 list-- it's just the little push I need to try new things and get out of my various ruts. And I'm doing my best to look at the pieces of my life that maybe other people can't see from across the street. Those things are important, and they need maintenance just as much as a caved in roof or a completely dead lawn.
And maybe you don't (and can't) understand what they are to me, and why I have to do what I have to do, because you're a step too far back. I'm working on being ok with that.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Defenses
Defenses have their place. Sometimes you need them. Scratch that. Sometimes I need them. (I really have no idea if you do or not.) But, sometimes, you have to put your defenses back down, even if you think there's a chance you might be hurt.
My subconscious does not agree with me. Last night's dream? I was driving a white convertible, and I parked it, left the roof down, and left my purse in the driver's seat. When I came back, lo and behold, everything of value had been taken out of the purse. My brain is kind of a smartass and likes to tell me things in dreams as obviously as it possibly can. "If you leave your defenses down, someone's going to steal your stuff."
But, Brain, you need to shut up for a little while. Because I have to work on this, and to give my all to this project, I'm gonna have to leave the convertible top down and my purse in the seat, and just trust that my stuff won't get stolen, because there is respect on the other side, and people who respect you don't steal your stuff.
My subconscious does not agree with me. Last night's dream? I was driving a white convertible, and I parked it, left the roof down, and left my purse in the driver's seat. When I came back, lo and behold, everything of value had been taken out of the purse. My brain is kind of a smartass and likes to tell me things in dreams as obviously as it possibly can. "If you leave your defenses down, someone's going to steal your stuff."
But, Brain, you need to shut up for a little while. Because I have to work on this, and to give my all to this project, I'm gonna have to leave the convertible top down and my purse in the seat, and just trust that my stuff won't get stolen, because there is respect on the other side, and people who respect you don't steal your stuff.
Monday, January 24, 2011
29
I'm 29. Somehow, it seems like that makes a difference. Every woman I know over 30 flipped out a little around that birthday. Could be astrology, but I doubt it. Could be that nice round number that makes us panic... but it seems like it should be something more. (I didn't panic when I turned 20, after all.) But there's something.
All my life, I've been told that women don't really "hit their stride" until their 30s. Is it because we all flip out when we're 29?
In my case, it feels more like growing a brain than flipping out. What the hell have I been doing for the 28 years preceding? Why did I think it was ok to do the stuff I've been doing-- to practically beg people to use me, and then feel bad about it when they did? To allow things to happen to me for the sake of some misplaced sense of "love" that I, in no way, should have to put up with? To get shoved around in my little rowboat, when really, it's my rowboat?
No. Just no. No more of that.
And I will hit my stride in my 30s. Wait and see.
All my life, I've been told that women don't really "hit their stride" until their 30s. Is it because we all flip out when we're 29?
In my case, it feels more like growing a brain than flipping out. What the hell have I been doing for the 28 years preceding? Why did I think it was ok to do the stuff I've been doing-- to practically beg people to use me, and then feel bad about it when they did? To allow things to happen to me for the sake of some misplaced sense of "love" that I, in no way, should have to put up with? To get shoved around in my little rowboat, when really, it's my rowboat?
No. Just no. No more of that.
And I will hit my stride in my 30s. Wait and see.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wanting
I wrote this in December 2003:
Damn. I sure was smart.
Years of praying and learning to pray taught me more guilt than anything, and more how to deny my wants than to actually think about them or ask for them. It taught me that I obviously can't know what I want because I'm a lowly, stupid mortal and therefore I can't ask for what I want because, not only would that be selfish, but that would be stupid. But I've had enough of "not knowing" what I want. Everyone is smart enough to know what they want and everyone does know what they want. It's just that some of us are better at burying it than others. I really did think I didn't know what I wanted for the longest time, but I do. I know what I want.
Damn. I sure was smart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)