For Me? : Acknowledging Problems

My dear friend Elsa has recently discovered a blog, which we have both added to our sidebar jiggers, called "I Wrote This For You." It is a collection of photographs taken mostly of common things with uncommon lighting or perspective, and each photograph is given a statement. Sometimes the statement is clearly connected to the content of the photograph, sometimes it is not. Here is one statement from the blog.

"Sometimes it feels like every song on the radio was written just for you.
Sometimes, they are."

I don't listen to the radio, but I do listen to my iPod on shuffle a lot - and it is nearly the same thing, because there is a lot of music on there that I get from friends and relatives that I am not familiar with.

Music is a strange thing. Sometimes, you can go years listening to a song, thinking nothing of it. And whether you physically skip it or not, your brain skips over it as soon as you recognize the first few notes, because your brain knows what is going to follow, and that there is no point to it, and it sees no point in listening to it. But then later, for some reason, your brain doesn't skip the song, and you listen to it - and it seems that the words must have changed, because all at once, not only is it a song that you can relate to, it's a song that you need.

These songs are magical things.

I have encountered one such song recently. I do not know its name or who sings it. It is known to me only as "Track 03" in the mix "Good Music for EmilyBean." The words that I either didn't notice or didn't understand before are the following:

"Is this the good, the beautiful and true?
Can't see the battle when it's right in front of you
In the mirror, I know a weary heart when I see one"

Obviously, that isn't the entire song, but that's the beginning, the part that probably got my attention, and the part that, according to "I Wrote This For You," was probably written for me.

I have an obsession with being "strong." Not physically, but emotionally/mentally. I don't know how many people are aware of that. However, when I have a problem or problems, I often deny their existence, or their severity, or the need for help in dealing with them - not just to others, but to myself as well. I don't like relying or being dependent on others - that requires making one's self vulnerable, which I consider dangerous. Because of this, I try to deny that I need other people. I try not to let many people know too much about me or how I feel about certain things.

So, because problems, severity of problems, and the solving of problems go ignored in my life... they've gotten bigger. Because I've been denying their existence, I "can't see the battle when it's right in front of me." I don't allow people to help me with my problems as often as I should - I don't even allow people as near to maybe might be best - I'm tired of dealing with everything mostly on my own. But I'm so in denial, I don't "know a weary heart when I see one."

I'm obsessed with weakness and not being weak. I hate to cry, especially when there is a chance I might be seen. It is almost imposssible for me to cry during the day, when there is light and I am more visible. If someone has actually seen me cry, it was probably a big deal - Either I was very, very upset, or I trust them very, very much.

I am not really sure why I hate the idea of weakness so much. Certainly, I don't want to risk being hurt. I don't want to be vulnerable because I don't want to be injured. I don't want to be close because I don't want to be abandoned. But I also wonder if my small size has something to do with it? Do I feel weaker - more at risk and more vulnerable - partially because of my size? Am I trying to prove something, maybe? That I can still be strong emotionally and mentally even if I can't be strong physically?

Or am I just trying to blame a problem I have on something that I can't control, when the problem is something that I can fix and should be fixing? Like I do with many of my problems, as a way to deny their existence, their severity, and their need for a solution?

<3 o.

p.s. : I found the song. It's called 'Perfectly' by Judd and Maggie, I believe.

One Time I Had a Dream That I Could Breathe Under Water...

...Guess what? I can't breath under water.
-Grace Polk, Joan of Arcadia Season 1

Last night, I was in the school restroom, inside a stall, and there was a teenage boy outside it. I asked him to leave multiple times, and he always refused. I was practically begging, head against the stall door, for him to leave me alone, and he kept saying he wasn't going to leave. When I told others about the dream, I told them it was because he wanted my chapstick, because later in the dream he took my chapstick, but the truth is, I felt so helpless and weak. Afterwards, I went on to dream about a kitten whose fur could turn into popcorn when it was wet, but that is beside the point.

I don't really take dream interpretation seriously, mostly due to dreams like the kitten with popcorn fur and the shaggy dog from 101 Dalmations falling on top of and squishing the vultures from The Jungle Book. However, I do know that dreams are subconcsious thoughts, and that sometimes they are us working out our emotions subconsciously. I can tell you flat out that that dream was an expression of my feelings of helplessness, weakness, and worthlessness, because that's how I felt. However, I wonder if the fact I was in a bathroom stall meant anything? One website said that bathrooms are a symbol of cleansing, and I don't know if the boy represented a specific person or just the male race in general. If I had to take a guess at a deeper meaning, a specific boy (and I have someone in mind) is keeping me from ridding myself of feelings of helplessness, weakness, and worthlessness. I think it's not a bad interpretation, myself. :)

Would you like to know a secret? Of course you wouldn't, you're not even reading this. However, since you're not reading, I'm sure you wouldn't mind my sharing it anyway: I sometimes look forward to having nightmares. Why is that? I tried to research it, but I couldn't find anything. It's not even that I enjoy them; I don't; I hate them. I get so scared over nightmares, and upset, and it makes me think of things that make me even more paranoid than I already am. So why should I go to bed and wish for a new nightmare almost every night?

I know that no one is going to answer that question, so I don't expect anything to happen in response to this. It will simply float on through the void of cyberspace, probably never to be discovered beneath the billions of gigabytes that will cover it within hours, similar to how my memory will be lost to eternity.

I am a worthless pessimist, am I not?

<3 o.