Trying like Hell: My "Pattern"

Trying Like Hell: My Pattern

This is me promising, with this blog as my assistance, to try like hell to do all the things I want/need to do, and to be the person I want to be, for once.

I fell into another stupid depression last night at the recognition of My Pattern. That's right, I made it into a proper noun. That's how much of a thing it is. 

I took, what I considered to be, the first step, which was to make myself a single woman. I have spent my entire adolescent and early adulthood life being so thoroughly consumed by trying to be what men want. It went through all the proper stages. When I was in high school, it was about being submissive to boys. And about being not as "girly" as all the other girls, you know? Being one of the guys (being raised as a tomboy by men, it came naturally). But I have come to the understanding that the behaviors previously known to me as "girly" - emotional, irrational, impatient, hard-headed - are, in fact, characteristics shared by men.
Then in college, I began to think more about what I want, and I began to demand that. My latest relationships consist of an odd balance between the two. 

They begin with someone that I adore (I have the fortune of not being attracted to cruel men - nice guys don't finish last with me, unless you're not genuinely nice, just trying too hard to be nice...). I bury myself in this person. And right when I'm not sure I can recognize myself anymore, I bounce back forcefully and selfishly. I'm out the door before they realize what the hell just happened. 

Unfortunately, what has always happened, is that I have found someone else in whom I can bury myself.

And that is My Pattern. For all to see (or no one to see, who knows!) This is me acknowledging I have a problem. Hello, my name is Morg, and I'm a relationship chameleon and one of those people who "just can't be single."

SO! I ended my last long term relationship. In addition to wounding the two of us, there seemed to be bullet spray over our group of friends as well. 

Although to say that I'm a completely single woman would be a lie. That's a different story.

And I've moved to a city in which there exists just ONE person that I know. 

This is the recipe for "starting over", I think. 

And it seems that to "start over" - one has to be resolved to change the shit they don't like about themselves and to make goals to achieve the shit they want. 

So, here I go. 

The things that make me happy: 

acting/performing

having a companion who understands everything about me

having a job I care about

giving gifts that have been well thought out

being by the river in southport with dad drinking a beer

being on a boat in the open water

That's a start.

Here's the shit that's under my control:

-Whether or not I go outside on a day when I have nothing to. And I should, more often than not, even if it is hot as shit, just get the fuck outside and explore, this city is AMAZING!

-Money. We have not been friends in the past. I've abused you, taken advantage of your presence, and you, rightfully, abandoned me. I do not need to go out to eat that much, buy more than a drink or two at the bar. Retail therapy is right out. Make myself a damn budget once I get settled with jobs. Damn.

-I'm not even going to touch relationship stuff. That's a beast. A big, sweaty, tired, monstrous bitch blocking the cave opening. So I'ma not even poke at it until I work on me. 

-Acting classes. As long as money is in order, acting classes need to happen. You ain't special.

-Relationship with friends. Social skills. Work on them. Why am I so embarrassed by giving a show of affection? I Shouldn't automatically assume that everyone everywhere wants nothing to do with me. Ask questions, let people talk about themselves. Be interested, listen, take it in...people love to talk about themselves. Let them.

So there it is. That's the start. That's the acknowledgement of some of the things that need to happen. 

Also going to stop saying "I hate myself" - which I have said in jest for the last 2 years probably. I'm thinking maybe it's not so healthy.

AND, going to stop swearing so much. I swear a lot in jest. I like the way it sounds sometimes. But maybe it's making me just a touch more miserable than I need to be. 

Here I go!