I never feel good unless I am doing something right.
What a strange sentence.
Right to whose standard?
Feels good to whose standards?
The sentence is a trap.
But, it is how I feel.
I love being “right” not on subjects, or opinions that turn out to be facts later.
I love being right to other people in the way that I operate.
I love watching people fall in love with me.
Especially at places I work.
I spent my early twenties being in love with myself just by going to work at old Navy everyday.
That is all it took.
I would clock in and the worship would commence.
Everyone always loved when I was working, and with a Venus in Leo I love that so much.
Hair toss, beauty queen wave, throne sit.
Once I had my daughter I never went back to work out in the world for someone else again.
The deficit this created in my fill me up column was astounding.
I mean at home there is never worship for me.
My Mom was only being proud of me towards other people, never to me personally, and if I would mention hearing her sing my praises -she would say “well what do you want me to tell them the truth?”
Aquarius moon be da rudest.
Kids are like rude mothers too.
I told you to love your baby time because middle child hood is the dessert for compliments.
It is the land of eye rolls and door slams.
Mind you, I leave the house to go to the office now, and three minutes after I leave they are crying to Bae about my absence, but rarely to my face do they accredit me for being awesome.
After my jobs stopped and I had one more baby I noticed that I was treating my friendships in this love me because I am so awesome way.
Above and Beyond.
To Infinity and Beyond
But a bitch crashed, like Buzz coming into the awareness that he was really just Andys toy.
I wanted to find out what would happened if I was not awesome.
I wanted to find out what would happen if I said I would rather be reading than being here with you.
I wanted to find out what would happen if I said I couldn’t help.
I wanted to find out what would happen if I didn’t meet everyone’s needs.
Because, I had to start meeting my own.
Now I have way less friends, but they still do tell me I’m the best… (because I am)
But, I still miss going to work.
I still miss the smiles as I would trot in the door.
The day got better.
I cannot tell you how many tiny part time jobs I have applied for with no response…
I do love being protected by the ether, but like can a bitch get some love?
The message back is sure, just not like that again. Stop being a stubborn pain in the ass.
I mean my husband thinks I am the best thing on earth.
But you know I was always the girl who tossed those boys in the trash.
Seriously, Bae is my third boy who looked at me like I was in fact a perfect sunset.
The other two- my teen self squandered, and I fully see Bae as another try at believing love should be peaceful with a boy who dumps gallons in the fill me up with praise column.
Boys giving me that love never did it like work would, or the having thirteen best friends that you do everything for because trauma meets birth chart.
On my bad days I worry I may never be able to fill up because I will always be trapped in this desire to impress with my awesome skills of being the best.
On my good days I remember that other people cant define my own worth.
But, on most days it is a mix of both.
I still find it difficult not to jump into someones problems and help whisk them away.
I still have to tell myself that the things I do are worthy even if they go unnoticed.
I still have to tell myself that what is right for me does not have to be understood by other people.
I think the issue is always trying to feel good.
I think this may be in-fact the piece of information that has us all chasing.
We aren’t supposed to feel good or bad all the time.
We are supposed to feel both all the time.
Ebb and flow
Maybe they just tell us we are supposed to feel good all the time so we keep buying all this crap they keep selling.
Good Luck Out There.