journalling

I was re-reading some old blogs and I came across one of my many "I'm going to give up blogging because I miss journalling" blogs.

Well, I recently came across my old journals and started re-reading those.

Oh my God. I think something about handwriting in a bound book makes me even more self-centered than when I am on the world wide web. As if that were even really possible. But if it were.

The journal I found was from when Scott and I were together the first time. It was the break-up journal. Wow. The melodrama reaches a fever pitch. I'm not saying that I wasn't hurting but I keep re-reading it and I wish I could tell that poor girl that it all worked out. (And that she should have dumped that rebound guy a LOT sooner.) That poor girl just could not believe that she and Scott were really over, even though it could not have been more plain if he had hired a skywriter to tell her.

It's always been so easy for me to be strong when I am trying to help other people get over their own heartbreaks -- it's easy for anyone who is not going through it at the time. It's hard to be sensitive because I have the memory of a goldfish. When I am going through the pain, I am mired in it. I like to wallow in my self-pity until my fingers get all pruney. It feels good to feel bad and it feels better to try to feel worse. But once I snap out of it once and for all, I snap out. There is a part of me that grieves my loss, but it's not a part that takes over me and consumes me.

And I've been through some stuff. And each time I'm badder and better than the last time. I'm stronger or at least wiser...

All right, Charlie's behind me in his self-created den (behind the recliner) and he's discovered he likes the taste of power -- in electrical cords. Gotta go have a chat with my man, so I'm out...