stranded

I've managed to get lost in busy work, with dinners with friends, and with trips to everywhere but within. I do this. All the time it seems. Whenever introspection is needed, I run away until I can no longer run from it. It manages to catch-up with me however cramped I make my schedule, undoubtedly for a good reason.

I don't know about what others go through, but I need to self-inspect once-in-awhile. See where things are. If I'm happy, not just saying I'm happy but truly happy. Or if I'm satisfied at where I'm at and where I'm heading. It's that time when I just need to take a step back and gauge where I am in my life and plan a few steps for the future.

I've written in an earlier blog that I'm feeling a little anxious. That's generally the sign for it. The need for quiet and self-analysis. To meditate even, and learn from the past so I can improve now and the future.

I'm there again. I thought my quarterlife crisis is over and the next internal turmoil, mid-life crisis, will pounce on me in about another quarter century. I guess I'm wrong. There must be something in my life now that I ought to be aiming for or have already accomplished and yet I'm nowhere near it. As my previous blog said, its probably the "family" thing. That's just my guess. But this gnawing feeling inside seems to be agreeing to that assumption.

So assuming I'm right, what conclusion can I derive from it? That I ought to "kick it up a notch" as Emeril would say, when it comes to searching for my lifetime companion? How does one do that in this ever so fast life that I managed to get myself into? I work, I volunteer, I go out with friends, I go to church. Shouldn't I have met the "right" person in any of those activities? I would venture a hunch that I'm subconsciously sabotaging myself when it comes to romance.

I jest when I reply to curious inquiries to my singleness that I'm picky, that I'm busy, that there's no one good. Maybe I've met a good man already and just didn't know it. I've drowned myself to think that perfection is what's on my list when in fact, it reduces the pool to no one. None would achieve perfection if I base my criteria on a non-existent list of ideals. What does it really boil down to? That the reality is, I have no clue as to what I want because I am afraid. I'm afraid to be hurt. I'm afraid to be alone. I'm afraid that I don't know how to love (romatically). I'm afraid I'm not romatically lovable or attractive. I'm afraid period! Which leads to why I've always kept men at bay and the thought of intimacy stays within my fantasy because I know reality would never come close to it. My insecurities paralyzes me to a point of no action. I'm dead in the water and I doubt I'd be brave enough to start up the engine. So I'm hoping for a man who could penetrate my barrier and find the real me. Not that I'm not being "me" with people but those parts of me that I'm too vulnerable to show everyone else. That he'd be interested in knowing more.

Maybe I'm destined to be a spinster. An old hag with a bright and happy disposition with hoards of cats (though the probability of that happening is slim since I'm not too fond of them...not to mention I'm allergic to them). I'm smiling as I type this out. This is exactly what Ralph wrote about me. A self-deprecating person that takes everyone for a ride. Maybe so ... but its my way of self-preservation. That my impending failure cannot be deemed failure when I did not even try it and even if I did, I could say that I've predicted such a result. I've saved face by doing so but I could be dooming myself as well. Ah! What a shame. I may have unequivocally set myself up for failure. Did I just sabotage myself? Who knows?

But I'll be lying to myself if I say I'm truly happy. I'm not. Part of me longs and yet that longing is not enough for me to reach out, to go beyond my comfort zone like many of my peers are now doing. I have yet to reach that point where I need to act on this need. I haven't even reach decency when I play my guitar and I've wanted that even longer than this, I think. Ok, that's a lie too but I give up so quickly on many things that don't come easily. Quite a character flaw. I ought to be more patient, more diligent, more persevering. I think those very same qualities can be applied to many things. Including my search for love.

So I'm stuck in the middle of a vast ocean. I have a tank full of gas with the courage of a turtle, hiding within its shell unable to start the engine. Maybe a male siren (can a siren be male, anyway?) can come and help me out ... though by characteristic, they're devilish and would want me harm instead. Ok, maybe a siren (male or female) may not be a good solution here. Perhaps my muse will suddenly reveal him/herself to me and inspire me to start up that motor and start cruising. It would be nice. 'til then, I'm stranded.