It is the end of the day, and I am tired. I have this old feeling, a thing that for once I try to name. I want someone to hug me, to tell me I am beautiful, to tell me I am loved. I don’t feel good about myself. See I always get this way when I am tired. I say to myself, I need to be reassured. I don’t. I want it, but I don’t need it. Why though? I examine this. I think about this pirate, how he gets constant reassurance in the way of gifts and money. That is all he needs to be reassured. I look for words of love, for affection, for someone to do something for me, and I realize that this is something I look for in my romantic partner.
I wonder where will these things come from in a few months. And I realize they must come from myself. Oh and this will be hard, won’t it? How do I tell myself I look fine, how do things for myself to reassure me, how to I give myself a hug, to give myself affection? I do not know. I realize that I tell myself terrible things sometimes. And I realize immediately that I must stop doing this, even if I cannot say, girl you are looking fine, I have to stop saying ugh, you are nasty. I said that to myself this morning, that I looked good. But then withing five minutes I had fallen hard on the ice and felt like a clutz, and felt embarrassed, did anyone see me. So much for confidence. So much for that good feeling. My skeleton was jarred hard as I hit the ground, and once I recovered and got up again, I turned around and got a pill to help mitigate the pain.
This is painful, this feeling of wanting reassurance, this feeling of not reassuring myself, this idea that I have to start, because it won’t be coming from anyone, when I take the next step in my life, and it sure as shit ain’t coming from anyone now.
I think about food, and how food is also a reassurance. We always got the best treats from my grandparents, salty treats, soda pop, pop tarts and sugar sweetened cereal. It comes to me that I use these things to reassure me, when I am not feeling the love.
And I think about how social media is such an addiction, and how it is all about reassurance. We are valid, what we say is valid, what we post is valid, what we like is valid, and what a rush you get from it!
It is all so strange, this, coming to me, and I have to write it down. To note it, to pay attention to it. I need to remember this.
It feels profound.
But I am waiting to fall on the ice again.