You know those “aha” moments where you figure something out about yourself? I had one of those today.
I was sitting cross-legged on Silas’ floor with Isaac nursing. I was rocking back and forth noticing the burning sensation in the back of my throat. The honeydew melon I had eaten gave me that feeling. I suddenly realized that I don’t think I actually like honeydew melons. Aside from the sore throat it gave me, it doesn’t taste very nice to me either. Then I realized that I don’t allow myself to dislike much food. There’s lots of food that perhaps I don’t like, I just eat it anyway.
Then I realized that a lot of the time, I don’t allow myself to dislike certain things. Like food or people. There’s only a few people out there that I really truly don’t like very much. If a person is ever mean to me, I usually shrug it off and think it was my fault for the occurrence.
I also realized the other day that I (almost) hate living at the coast. I hate hate hate the winters here and I hate the idea of raising my kids in the city. There’s wonderful people here and wonderful money. I feel free and at the same time trapped for letting myself realize how much I dislike this place.
I don’t really know what this means aside from either I’m super easy-going or for some reason I take a little too much trouble to BE very easy going.
I do take a lot of time to dislike myself. There are things I do really enjoy about myself. I feel as though I’m a very well-rounded person. I have lots of life experience, I’m a middle of the road kinda gal. I like that. I don’t like lots of other things about myself. I weigh myself against every one else. I want to be supermom and super-house-wife. I want to be super skinny and super beautiful. I want to have super energy and super duper muscles. Fact is: I’m none of those things and I don’t like myself for it.
I don’t love myself enough to allow that super-Leah to shine through. To love myself would take work. I only have enough drive in me to last a week at the most. That week was gone two weeks ago and I’ve spiraled down-hill ever since. One week of super Leah leads to two weeks of depressed, mentally drained Leah.
I think I think too much. Being a happy adult is hard work 🙁