i do but i don’t. i care but i don’t. i have spent too much of my life caring too much what other people, so now i have to learn how to not care so much. sure, care a bit but not so much since i have spent the MAJORITY OF MY LIFE WORRYING TOO MUCH ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE’S OPINIONS.
yup i was a people pleaser. i was that little girl who was so good at making her parents proud… which was fine. no harm done until that one day i realized that i didn’t know what i wanted. i knew what everyone else wanted though, really well.
and then i took that same ability that i had honed so well as a young person and applied it to adulthood. i got really good at making everyone happy. significant others. bosses. friends. whoever it was. but what did i want? i didn’t know. and that’s why i started to write.
writing is sometimes pretty much the only guaranteed way back to myself.
when the rest of the world pulls on me, my heartstrings, my purse strings, and everything else… writing ties all the loose threads back together and makes it all make sense again.
there’s a buddhist monk who talks about how we are all drawn to distraction. drawn to addictions. drawn to anything that will fill the void. writing fills my void because it helps me remember that i don’t have to see myself as a void in the first place. i can keep gushing forth just as long as anyone will listen. even if nobody listens. i can listen to myself and make sense of the cacophony in my head.