Dear Diary (I)

I am not one of those people who were meant to write.
I mean I DO read and I CAN write, but I hardly believe it was ever programmed into me the ability or purpose to write and change the world one reader/stalker/blog junkie at a time.

But I realize that I am somewhat emotionally cacat (handicapped).
I don’t really know what I am feeling until I start writing it down: be it in a Microsoft Words document, or a mental list in my head.
It’s only when I take the time to do this little exercise that I realize the feelings, ideas, thoughts, longings and beliefs that have been suppressed by my conscious being since the last exercise was performed, and in my current situation; a very long time ago.

I’m just letting this flow as I go along.

Is that why girls like to keep Diaries by the way? From experience a diary can be one of the most disabling weapons. You can be held hostage by the very words you pen. You have the power to make yourself a hypocrite, a liar, or an actress. The stuff terrorists are made off.

Of late what seems to be the recurring theme in my head is the topic of “loneliness”.
I believe the term is not reserved for old spinsters (like myself) or socially handicapped people (with whom I feel I can also identify with) alone. Humans are lonely whether we receive showers of compliments, kisses, chocolates, or “hello how do you do’s”. We spend the first half of our lives seeking the approval of others, and the other half wondering why the feelings of accomplishment and smug satisfaction hadn’t kicked in yet. And by the time death pays his faithful visit, we would still be wondering.

I used to be SO uncomfortable with the notion of appearing in society unaccompanied: eating, or shopping or watching a movie alone. I dreaded the day when I would be so desperate that I had to watch a movie alone. In my head that only meant one thing: Lonely.

But of late I find myself doing more and more with numero uno (me). And I admit, it isn’t because I’m being more independent or any of that nonsense growing up excuse, it’s simply because situations changed, its normal for situations to change and I believe I embrace changes to the best of my ability. I didn’t see it a very big deal to drive to a shopping mall just because I felt like it, to treat myself to a nice dessert whenever I wanted to, to watch a movie even if nobody I know was around. It seemed the natural way to move on and cope for me.

Natural, until someone told me it was “sad”.
Natural, until someone told me I was “sad”.
Natural, until I let what someone says become what I should feel.

Of course what someone or what a few someones say did not change the way I led my life, but looking back I feel it was foolish of me to even respond to such negativism. The fact that even for the briefest moment, I would let such a thought run through my mind, was unlike me. The fact that I gave an outward response to it was toxic to my soul.

We are taught to look after the feelings of others, to not hurt anyone without reason, and give or take a little, most of us turn out to be pretty decent people. But what is not emphasized is the need to be kind to ourselves. We give continuously abuse and beat ourselves up when we:

Gape at the talents of other but,
Fail to show the gifts we are blessed with.
Believe that our happiness lies in the hands of another and,
Let others tell us how happy we can or cannot be.

Addressing someone’s comment:
If I am uncomfortable with being with myself, how can I expect someone else to be comfortable around me?

Loneliness is not failing to make others love us
Loneliness is when we cannot love ourselves

So who is lonely now, the spinster who buys herself flowers to make herself happy or the girl who waits upon someone else to buy her happiness for her.