Disillusioned - Part 2

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be?"

This quote is from Beth's blog, a 'Beth' who left a comment on my first Disillusioned post, a 'Beth' I don't know but who reads my blog. She said this, in part, in her comment: "There's so many days where I feel the same way you do !!! And then one person will say one nice thing, and then I'm off and running again." I started blunt-force crying when I read that, which I think mostly is what I needed to do anyway but also from the sheer power of a kind word. Beth is so right.

When I got home, I found comments and e-mails from Miss V, most of which aren't -- uh -- reprintable here. Let's just say that I got her size 8.5 up my backside (in the kindest of ways, of course).

It's just that I feel so isolated, still. I guess I thought my blog, the act of blogging, would change that in some earth-shattering way. But actually it's kind of felt like a continuation of my journal, over all these years ... just plowing away in solitude and feeling like I'm FORCING my shite on people when I do display it. Those blog entries about my youngest male child's basketball game, then his shoes? Pfft if he wanted to READ them, just bandit the pictures for his MySpace site in order to show all the Hotties 'shopping' for studly males. If he doesn't read my stuff, how will he ever ever know how much I love him, how proud of him I am? He doesn't LISTEN to me these days, y'know? ... and my oldest male child? He still hasn't 'gotten around' to reading any of it. It's not important to them. And I always take that as I'M not important to them.

How do I learn to separate that? And how do I accept that at this stage they don't give a rat's ass who "Mom really is" cuz they're busy working on who THEY really are?

And nobody really comments, where I comment all the time. I had a HUGE anxiety attack about even that, my commenting, last night. Like, I'm one of those people for whom there is no stranger ... have been since I was pint-sized, I guess. Even when I'm in foreign countries and don't speak the language, I'm 'talking' to the locals. & my full being is in it: heart, intellect, sparkle, interest, curiosity, focus, listening, retention, interactive level. I do the same thing with the blogs I love and am loyal to -- comments, reaching out to the authors. But gee, I DO NOT KNOW THESE PEOPLE. Maybe all my Odie-Like-Electronic-Wagging [even if on their behalf] is actually just an intrusion! Or feels like stalking! Or 'too much'! How do I know they're not seeing my name and thinking, 'Eesh! Blimey! Shite! This broad thinks she's all IN my life!'

How do I learn ... to reduce, to lessen, to back off, to curb this Big Wowza Wench that I tend to become when I find something that rocks me?

I feel like a walking faux-pas, always making social gaffs due to my enthusiasm which causes me to lose track of other people's personal space margins. Makes me want to RUN into my journal corner and pull the shades and close the door and put my hood over my head.