Security? I Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Security!

Today’s Tuesday.
Yesterday, well, that was Monday.
And, I didn’t post anything.
Sorry if the 2 of you who actually visit here missed me.
But, I was unable to write.
Not because I was too busy with other tasks. That’s never really stopped me before. If I have something that needs to crawl out of my brain and onto the Internet, Well By Gawd, I’m gonna get it out there!
No, I had different impediments. Stuff that does, in fact, keep the crawly stuff locked up inside.
First, I haven’t been sleeping well. And, Sunday into Monday I was working on about 5 hours. That’s after weeks of maybe 6 hours on average. My mind simply said, “Nope. Not thinking today. And, there’s nothing you can do about. Nya Nya Nya.”
And, my mind was right. There was nothing gonna shake any words loose.
The other thing happening was that I was an emotional wreck. My mind said it was too tired to write, but, Hoo Boy, not too tired to race around like a squirrel on crack. I could not have put two cogent thoughts together if my life depended on it. Thankfully, it didn’t.

So, what’s going on?

I’ve shared a little bit about the journey that I’m presently walking. Emotions, Passions, Thoughts, you know, all that sensitive artist kind of crap. And, I have to tell you, this journey is fraught with all kinds of pits and obstacles and beasties and such.
But, it is a journey that I must undertake. Now. At this time in my life.

I’m finding that with all of the hope that I had earlier in life to embody Mr. Spock from Star Trek, I am too human. My emotions leak all over me like the oil pan of one of my old cars used to leak all over my driveway. And, these emotions can be just as much of a sticky mess and hard to clean up. Maybe, harder.

I’ve discovered that I am hyper-insecure. As I look back over my life and look deeply into my heart, I have always been like that. I fear rejection, for sure. More importantly, I think that I fear not being accepted.

So, I push for responses that might give me a glimmer of hope that you, (whoever that is), might give me that I’m not the waste of skin that I feel that I truly am.
I say and do things that we both will regret. Not because I’m a creep or some narcissistic boor. But, because I’m afloat in a sea of doubt surrounded by the dense fog of uncertainty.

Now, some shrink may look at me and say something about how I must have felt rejection when another child was brought into my childhood home. Mom and Dad had to set me aside so they could include the newly added soul.
Or, they might say that there is a hidden memory and wound from being given up by my birth mother for adoption. Lord knows I’ve heard that before.

Or, maybe, just maybe this is how I’m wired. Nothing broken. No wounds or hurts. It’s just part of my Melancholic personality type.

Honestly, I don’t know where the roots of insecurity lie. Don’t know if it’s even important to know. The fact is, this is where I am and I need to deal with it.

Deal with it?
What’s that mean?

Hell, I don’t know.
Fix it?
Heal it?

Learn to embrace it and live with it?
Maybe, someday be able to celebrate it?

I honestly don’t know.
And, I may, (re. Probably), never know.

I do know, however, that I am what I am and that’s all that I am.
So, the journey continues.