You know her...the "woe is me" lady who feeds off of your pain and makes you sit in it until your fingers get pruny.
I am prone to that wallowing. I hate it - HATE IT - about myself, and yet every now and then I catch myself doing it.
I caught myself today.
I've had troubled friendships in the past; the kind where people hurt you intentionally. Those friendships have led me to be quite the whacked out friend for those who enjoy my company today.
What one might say "aw, darn. That sucks", for me becomes "they hate me. I'm a pest. Why am I even their friend? I'm going to go cry in a corner."
It's stupid, really. It's foolish. Yet, for some reason, it's the conclusion I always immediately jump to when something goes wrong.
Today I was forgotten. Even typing those words makes me want to cry. It wasn't my friend's fault. Sometimes people forget.
That is logic talking.
Crazy Annie is convinced that this friend forgot me because I mean nothing to them.
Why would you mean anything to them? Why are they even nice to you? Charity case, no doubt. In fact, you probably weren't forgotten. You were probably blatantly ignored. They don't like you, and you're not getting the hint. You're the ugly duckling. Nobody likes you.
My heart breaks moment by moment, logic trying to say "SHUT UP ANNIE! YOU AREN'T HELPING!"
Annie never helps.
It's moments like this that I wish I were stronger. I wish I wasn't so sensitive. I wish I could roll with the punches, shrug my shoulders and say "eh, whatever" the way so many of the people I admire do.
I am not that person.
But I am damn well willing to do what it takes to get there if it means never feeling like this again.
I told Clone how I felt, that my heart hurt, so she gave me a little mantra originating from The Help.
You is smart.
You is kind.
You is beautiful.
I wish my self-esteem wasn't so volatile.
I'm sorry, blogisphere, for my insecurity, but if I wasn't real than you wouldn't like me anyway.