Feelings

I was reading a friend of mines blog, and she was saying that people don't purposely hurt your feelings.  Well, I have always worn my feeling on my sleeve, and maybe it's just the way I am. But my feelings are hurt on a daily basis, sometimes all day long.  I am the person that internalizes everything, analyzing it, tearing it apart, dissecting it and trying to make sense out of it. No matter what the situation, no matter how slight the situation, that's what I do.  So how do I stop this whirlwind of feelings.  It is a catch 22 for me.  My "feelings" are hurt when people don't call me or respond to my messages.  But then if I call I "feel" like I am bugging them or bothering them per say.  It's never ending.  Then I beat myself up.  When the truth is the only one hurting me is me.  I wish I had no feelings sometimes. I am probably the most insecure person I  know.  I know I have a lot of baggage that I need to deal with from the past.  It's just scary to think about opening those bags. I mean come on....I might get my feelings hurt.

Baggage

Every relationship I've been in has been destructive. Really doomed from the start. Last year I decided it was better to be single than in an unhealthy relationship. I came to discover that I was settling for these men so that I didn't have to be alone and I always chose someone that needed to be "fixed".  Perhaps so that I didn't have to look inward at my own baggage. I've always had a problem being alone. If I were to self analyze myself I would say it was from the many hours I spent alone as a child while I was grounded.  I always feel better when I am focusing on someone else's tragic life.  Then I don't feel the pain.  It's quite ironic that all of my very close, dear friends live out of town.  It seems everyone I get close to is taken away from me.  It's a conspiracy I tell you.  God has it out for me.  He's punishing me for not becoming a nun when I considered it when I was ten.  Yes I saw the production of "Annie" when I was ten at the Orpheum and I remember wanting to serve God as a nun in a 3rd world country orphanage.  However that was quickly squelched when I told my mother and she laughed in my face and told me I was much to selfish a child to ever become a nun.  Did I mention I had baggage???  Well I have several bags and I'm just now allowing myself to sit on the floor and start to rummage through them.
So today I embrace being alone.  Because only I, alone can unpack the "baggage" and sort it all out.  I think about baggage this way.  I drive a lot taking Katy to school and going to work. I'm in the car a lot.  So I see several hitchhikers on the road.  Usually they have bags they carry, or just a plain backpack. This morning a saw a young man very physically fit, with a hiking pack on his back very well put together, everything in it's place and he was packed for balance and endurance.  He obviously knew what he was doing.  So I guess my point is it's not how much baggage you have but that you know what's in your baggage and that you have it all organized and are familiar with it.  Hey....I just found a bag full of good memories......YEAH!!!!!

My Savage Side

I've often wondered what my life would have turned out like had I never been adopted.  I do know that my birth mother Linda, named me Samantha, and everyone from that side of the family calls me that. My half brother named his daughter Samantha after me, before I ever even knew him. My birth father was Kenneth Savage, and was a member of a motorcycle gang with his brother.  He died four months before I was born and never knew I existed.  At the time of his death he also left four other children in California. It occurred to me one day that if he had lived and they had gotten married my name would then be Samantha Savage.  I also have a fondness for Harley's. I find myself in a fantasy world of wonder of who this biker chick could have been.  But then life just comes up and smacks you right back into reality. I'm just Tish. The short, fat chick that is always trying to loose weight.  I have to believe for myself that it will become a reality for me.  I have been overweight now longer than I have not.  I just can't think this is all there will ever be for me.  Someone once told me that no man would ever love me as long as I was overweight, and here I sit, alone. My question to that is....am I alone because the statement is true or because I believe the statement is true?