I Made Myself Sad Today... On Purpose

So, I'm back. My reasons for leaving for a bit were... I was fighting with a lot of people and it was really depressing me. I just couldn't take one more goddamn fight. So, I stayed pretty quiet for a bit while I sorted through various relationship upheavals and the reality of getting back surgery and being off of work for two months. But let's get to why I'm back today. Let's get to what happened.

So, I didn't really make myself sad "on purpose," more like, I knew that what I was doing was going to lead to a full blown Attack of Sad, but I did it anyway. What I did seems like a seriously dumb thing, but I listened to Johnny Cash's "Hurt" on repeat for like 30 minutes. Like, I was sobbing over making dinner and would start the song over again, and that happened for 30 minutes' worth of music. By the time The Hubby came home, I was almost incoherent.
Now you may be asking yourself a couple of questions: 1) Why the hell did you do that, if you knew it was going to make you cry? and 2) Really? You cried that much over a song? (And Hubby's question, 3) Why don't you turn it off if it makes you this sad, you dork?) I will give a short answer for the second question first, because, basically, to me, if you don't at least tear up at that song, you have a heart of stone and you are dead inside and a stranger to Jesus (kidding about the last part).
The first question is a little more complicated. I have a pretty wide and well documented streak of self-destructiveness in me -- I used to abuse painkillers, I used to cut, I used to do a lot of other stupid shit that was bad for me. Today, I had been flip-flopping in mood all day. I was sad for some friends, I didn't feel really great, and then I walked twice and got dressed and did my makeup and looked AWESOME and went out for a bit, knowing that I was pretty, which is still such a new feeling that it still kind of shocks me to say it. Then, I was making dinner, and I had VH1 on, they were doing the Best Songs of the '00s on, and that kind of thing is nice to have on for background music, etc. while cooking. And they were talking about "Hurt" and Johnny Cash, and I remember my first time hearing that song so vividly that it kind of stopped me in my tracks. When I first heard that song, I was working at a record store in Newport, RI, after having to take some time off from school due to being a suicidal nutjob. I can't remember if it was before or after my major suicide attempt, in September of 2003, which eventually lead to my moving out here to Oklahoma. Now, I want you guys to know, I knew that this song had first been done by Nine Inch Nails but I had not then (nor have I now), heard the original version. I know that's blasphemy to a music-lover, but I just love Cash's version so damn much, it just rips your damn soul out.
But that first line of the song, "I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel," is a good descriptor of what some cutters feel like, what some people who try to drown their pain in other pain are trying to tell themselves. For me, cutting became about control. I wanted to be in control of my pain, so I would hurt myself. But I mentioned my self-destructiveness, I have hurt myself in a lot of ways that weren't inflicted by a razor, although that may be considered the most inexplicable thing I've done. For a lot of things, I think I looked at it as numbing -- I remember saying once when someone suggested I had drank too much that I had not, because I could still feel. And there were a lot of times like that.
I think... I'm still trying to sort out why I made myself sad today. Part of it, I think, was that I may have just needed the release a good cry brings. There have been some major upheavals happening lately, I had surgery, and I may have just needed to let it all out. Maybe I wanted to test myself, to see if I'm really as "healed" and doing better as I've been bragging about. Maybe I just wanted to see if I still feel.
Well, I do. That song brought back every terrible thing I've ever done to myself, every terrible thing I've ever done to others, and made me completely beside myself with grief and worry and guilt and... sincere and utter regret. I know everyone says don't have regrets, but I do. I've made a terrible mess of things on many, many occasions, and those things still weigh on my conscience pretty fucking heavily.
And why didn't I turn it off, when the waterworks and the bad memories started? Well, I guess I have a bit of a martyr complex. Maybe I wanted to punish myself for being happy lately. Maybe I haven't come as far as I thought I have. Maybe I still think that I don't deserve good things.
I don't know. But at least I'm asking the questions, trying to sort this all out. Before I just would have continued sobbing. Before I would have laid down in the kitchen and cried desperately as I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, and that I wanted to go home (as if some magical place that doesn't exist anymore would solve anything). So this process of looking at this stuff logically is a step in the right direction. That's good. Go me.
Now, will someone please come over here and turn this fucking song off?

Blahblablah

I've been totally out of it since yesterday. I don't really know what's going on, but my brain just feels sluggish. The Hubby was trying to talk to me while we were making dinner tonight and I think I just looked at him for a couple of minutes. Special.
I've been trying to decide how I'm feeling about the Eloisa James book I finished last night. The cross-dressing plot worked pretty well without being too homophobic. The big climactic fight between the hero and heroine, however, didn't make a lot of sense to me. I don't feel like I understood at all why the hero got so upset with the heroine. I may need to look at it again and work out some thoughts.
Neither of the two Eloisa James books I've read in the past couple of days has affected me as much as When Beauty Tamed the Beast did. They were both good reads and I'm glad I read them. I enjoyed them. (Well, I think. I'm still puzzling over the last one.) But When Beauty Tamed the Beast was incredible. I mean, I get teary thinking about that book, it was so good.
I found a couple of places where romances are being critically analyzed and my inner nerd's heartstrings have been tugged. Tugged, I say! Now I'm having all kinds of fantasies of doing critical work in romances, writing papers and going to conferences and stuff. I'm such a dork. But it's very cool to know that people are looking at romances seriously, and critically.
I'm trying to read Beyond Heaving Bosoms again, a loving and critical look at romances from the women who founded Smart Bitches Trashy Books (and I swear, Sarah Wendell is my sister from another mister or something, she's so awesome).
I'm watching a bunch of shows on the Travel channel about super-expensive stuff. I have decided that if I was ever ridiculously rich, I want a villa in the south of France. I love the Provencal vibe. This one villa we saw on this show could be rented for like $12,000 a week, and I swear it is my total dream home. Everything about it is completely perfect. The dream. I love the style of the house. I love the colors, I love the architecture, I love it all.
Yeah, this is ridiculous. I'm just babbling now.
I don't know what's up with my brain. It is not functioning. Not functioning at all.
Yeah, I'm giving this up today. Hope everyone had a lovely weekend. Maybe my brain will be working tomorrow.

On Audience and My Navel

Oh my god. I had this excellent post and it all just vanished. Sigh. Damn it.
Anyway, let's try this again.
Jenny Crusie posted this (http://www.arghink.com/2012/02/09/blog-ramble/) today, and it's been making me think. It's been making me think a lot, actually.
You see, I am apparently running this blog all kinds of wrong. Instead of asking "Why would people want to read this?", I'm saying, "I have stuff I want to say." Now granted, I created this blog as a place for me to figure out what I want out of life, to try to achieve some direction and maturity before I turn 30, so it's mostly a lot of navel-gazing and me, me, me, me, me. But I have on occasion addressed other people's concerns about the tone of the blog, and then I addressed concerns that I thought my defense of the tone brought up. But for the most part, I'm just rambling away about something that's all about me and my pretty, pretty navel, and probably has zero affect or interest for anyone else.
Also, I never expected to attract huge numbers here. I knew that this was going to be for me, so I didn't think too many people would be too interested in what I had to say. (I'm actually shocked that I've heard from as many people as I have, and that all of them have been male.) I did try to keep it somewhat apolitical, because since this was a place for self-reflection, I didn't want to get into the kind of debates that political topics can become. I have no problem with them in other spaces, but I didn't feel like it was right for what I was trying to do here. See, not a lot of concern for my audience here. Sorry.
Anyway, I'm thinking about this more seriously than I may have before because I've been considering starting another blog -- one dedicated to reviewing books that I'm reading. And while Journey to Thirty is purely for me and my sorting myself out, I would want this reviewing site to be a little more inclusive to others, because I would like it to eventually do something for me... like show authors that I understand how stories work and that I could be paid to edit their e-books for them... So, for that project I need to think more about audience than I have been, and that's going to be an interesting thought experiment.
Anyway, I'm not starting it anytime soon, so I have plenty of time to try to work out all the kinks and to try to come at it from the right side, like Jenny suggests in her ramble.
Speaking of this blog and its purpose, I feel like it's really been doing some good. I feel like I'm starting to focus a little more clearly on what I want to do. I always knew I loved reading and writing, but I don't think I ever really understood just how much story meant to me. Now I know that I'm eventually going to write my novel, and the others floating in my head, regardless of what happens with them. They can get published or not, but I will write them because I must. I know that I am passionate about stories and I will defend them to the death, and talk about the books I've loved, and the books that fell down. So reviewing is looking really wonderful -- and it's something I've considered doing before, so it's not totally out of the blue. But all of these things are something that's going to happen because they are things I love doing. They can wind up being my career one day, or I can go to library school and become The Cataloging Goddess of All Time, which I would also enjoy, but I will still read and write and discuss books.
And for not even a month into this project, the fact that I found these truths out already is pretty exciting and encouraging. Who knows what else could happen?

Don't Should All Over Yourself

I was going to write a post about guilt, feeling inspired by something Jenny Crusie wrote and posted on Reinventing Fabulous (http://reinventingfabulous.com/?p=899), and because her post got this song stuck in my head and I can't find it anywhere ("I'm unworthy. Yes, no matter what I'm doing, I should certainly be doing something else. And it's selfish to be thinking I'm unworthy, all this me, me, me, me, self, self, self, self." It's hilarious and wonderful and if you find it, please let me know.) But my first few lines sounded terrible, so I deleted it and now I've been staring at a) a blank screen or b) my best friend telling me to write about buying a vineyard and moving to Italy because that's our new "plan" for the last 10 minutes or so.
Ugh. I should have something to say. I started this whole stupid project.
Oh, look what I did there. I should-ed. Bad, bad business.
And, interestingly enough, should-ing gets us back to guilt.
Why do we feel guilt? Because we should have done something, and we didn't. Well, where the heck does this obligation came from? From whence the should? Is it from society, from our loved ones? Well, sometimes yes. There are a lot of should's that come along with being a woman. We should be pretty, but not high-maintenance. We should be sexy, but only a little bit, and only for our chosen partner (who probably should, according to some small-minded jerkwads, be male). We should be sensitive, but not whiny. We should be confident, but not cocky. We should be assertive, but not bitchy. But I think, most often, those damn shoulds that pile up so high that we want to scream, come from ourselves.
For example, my husband has never once said, "I want dinner ready when I get home." For one thing, he knows better. However, I make it this big should thing. I should have the apartment clean when he gets home. I should have dinner ready, or at least well on its way to being ready. And on the occasion when I don't feel particularly well and I lay down as soon as I get home, I feel guilty for not having accomplished that should.
And when I think of all these damn shoulds, I realize that I had shoulded myself into a pretty serious depression a few years ago. I'm not discounting the fact that I probably had something chemically wrong with me, but there was a lot of should-ing going on as well.
And I'm still bloody doing it. Look at my reason for starting this blog: I should know what I want from my life by the time I turn 30. Well, what happens if I don't? What happens if I never really know what I want? What if I'm never a real "adult"? Am I just creating another massive should that I may never accomplish, and therefore creating just one more massive occasion to feel guilty?
I don't know. Maybe.
But maybe now that I know about the dangers of should, maybe I can look at the blog as more of an exercise. Not that this process should result in my being an adult, with a clear sense of purpose and follow through, but that this space is a place for me to explore any and all possibilities that I see.
Even buying a vineyard in Italy. ;)