The discomfort of commitment...
The shadows and myths of my life...

This is how I have to show up for myself. By doing what makes me uncomfortable, even if I don't understand it, or see any changes, or see any light, I just have to sit and be uncomfortable, raw with it and write with it. I keep wanting out of it, distracting myself with TV, someone else, social media, other peoples' lives--just showing me how much I DO NOT WANT TO STAY IN AND HERE. So that's what I'm doing, staying in the discomfort of my commitment. And writing even when there are no new words, just to stay here with me so I can untangle myself from my mother and the untruths she taught me. So I can individuate and have my own beliefs and see the world through different eyes and not have her thoughts be my thoughts. Her fears and judgements be mine. Her bitterness and lack, mine. The belief at the end of the day that I am not enough. On the train. In the street. At work. With my friends out at a bar. Anywhere, everywhere.
She has taught me that the default in any situation is that I don't belong, am doing something wrong and that everyone is better and I should get something from them. Like at the bar the other night, when I was left at the bar alone with no one to talk to and wanted to run out, and turned to my phone to keep busy, I was judging myself to china. "Leave now. It wasn't worth coming out. This is why you don't come out. Just go." But everyone else already knew each other, so how is that on me? Why should I blame myself if I don't know anyone so can't just say hey! and start a convo. And then when Susie came back and introduced me to people, it was fine. Until that guy started his pretentious bullshit and I got angry. And then afraid like a fish out of water. Less, more, less, more, less, more. Like a fucking roller coaster. He was a tool, and yet I still placed him on some pedestal. He actually had the gall to say to me when I told him I wasn't born here, "Oh you don't have an accent and sound like an idiot." And yet even after all this pompous assholery, I STILL made it seem like him liking me (if what Susie said was correct) this big event, like I had been awarded something I didn't deserve. I mean the guy had actually said "yawn"when I said I was born in Bombay, just because it was like "any other Western metropolis" what sort of horseshit is that? And yet, again, I placed him and his blonde, white ex in some "other" category. I kept looking in the mirror behind him to look at us talking and what it looked like.
I hate this yo-yo-ing and self-doubt and feeling like a pauper who gets some crumbs and feels worthy. I hate it. I want to feel like I'm worth something and someone ELSE is lucky to have my attention and hold a convo with me. Most of all I want to not feel like an outsider trying to belong desperately because that's the only way I'll feel love. From others, from my parents, from myself. I want to feel enough, whatever I'm doing. I want to stop giving so much power to others, like my mother had me do.