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Too long have I been dwelling on my day to day affairs. Too long have I spent blog entries on things that should be footnotes in this blog. Today I feel healthy enough to start back again on my goal oriented posts. I will still have posts concerning my health and life where it pleases me, and where appropriate, but this is my blog to become a badass, not "A day in the life" nor "My health at a glance."

I think I'm going to begin today exploring emotions:

I spent Monday feeling like a goddess as I lay in bed. Slowly I was struck by an emotion. It was a little voice that said, "You don't deserve to be this happy." Now, logically I scoffed at this though, this out of place emotion. "Eat a dick," my head said. " I'm an adult. I fucking do what I want!" but my feelings were hit like somoeone wound up with a baseball bat and pounded my emotions like a 5 year old does a pinata at a birthday party. "Oh God," my emotions whined. "It's true. It's so true! I'm not worthy of happiness."

The rest of the week I've spent contemplating this awful thoughts. Why do I think I'm not worthy? I'm no more worthy than anyone else. I believe everyone on this planet is entitled to forgiveness and happiness. Even people who have threatened my life and the lives of those I love (though I still think they need to get out of our lives and get the help they desperately need). I believe that everyone from the most awful serial killer to Bill Gates is entitles to forgiveness, and happiness. Why should I be excluded from this belief?

I have this eminence guilt for all the things I've done wrong in my life. They range from losing my mom's favorite shirt in high school to hurting my ex-husband, God, and the people I love during my divorce. If I can forgive pedophiles, murderers, and abusers, why can't I forgive myself?

I also have this overpowering drive to be perfect. If it's not perfect, it's trash. I give no leeway for my humanity. Now this is strange, I hold firm with my students that effort and self improvement are more important than perfection. Why am I so attached by the need to be perfect instead of embracing my humanity and being happy with trying my best?

I am more than what I do. I am more than what I produce. I am worthy of forgiveness. I am worthy of happiness. I'll talk with my therapist about this on Friday.

Thursday's Self Improvement Club will be spent celebrating a successful interview for the only other official member, Thom. We're going thrift store window shopping (where I will purchase him something nice.), out to lunch, and then to the post office(because I have some stuff I need to mail out.)

The thrift store holds a duel purpose. I can't make costuming for my LARP this weekend. So I will have to buy it. Luckily I'm playing an old lady, so it shouldn't be hard to find things. We also may be recruiting a new member, which rather excites me.

I will probably make a post on the LARP I'm doing this weekend on Friday or Monday to cover the weekends activities.


Today I spent most of the day holes up in the bedroom with Willow. The windows have been open for the past week. On top of living on a very busy street corner where semis frequent, It's a very windy day making my house make awful sounds. The suddenness of the sounds startle both Willow and I. We don't like being startled. We aren't that kind of people. So we shut all the windows and holed up in the quietest place in the house for a few hours of peace to calm down. We feel much better about having the widows open now. Though the adrenaline spike has caused my tremors to become bad.

I wrote a letter to Aunt Doris today. My Therapist has me working on short term goals like week at a time. This weeks was to examine my feelings at any given time(currently motivated, determined, and skittish), figure out what makes me lovable to myself (Which I believe is that I enjoy encouraging people to become better versions of themselves.), and write a letter. I wrote a letter to Aunt Doris, and an email to Granny (emails are quicker and I'm planning on going out to visit her in a few weeks.)