What Are You Looking For?

Sometimes, when I read the comments that my posts evoke, I am embarrassed. I get the feeling that everything I throw out into the world sounds vaguely like a plea for acceptance. Flattery. Compliment fishing at high season. That is far from my goal. It would be even more selfish than I actually am if I begged people to feel sorry for me, because obviously there are so many people out there who suffer in ways that are much more concrete than mine, far more tragic than the sum of my existential flagellation. (and occasional masturbation. Ok, every God-given day.)

Each accomplishment that I embrace is immediately ridden of any importance. By me. I don’t know how to change this but I would like too.

For example, I wanted, as a young woman, to live in France, to speak French really well, in order to maybe find a way to express what I have to say accurately. I am shy, I am not all that sure of myself but somehow, I made that happen. I know that there are many women who appear to be far more adventurous than I do who never get past the highway exit of their miserable hometown. And then it meant nothing.

Wallowing in my slew of alcoholism, I sought help, went to treatment, quit drinking. It was an enormously painful experience, yet once in the bag, it meant nothing. (and did not last very long. HΓ©las.)

I have written my way out of a sexless existence (thanks in part to WordPress and more so to my blog friends) and I now partake in carnal pleasures more or less whenever I feel like it and even that means less than nothing.

I have posed nude for an artist and for a photographer despite the fact that sometimes, merely walking through a restaurant in search of the lady’s room can fill me with parlalysing fear.

After three years of complete, tooth grinding anxiety, I have finally gotten the fuck-eating French Driver’s License and I want to celebrate this and feel worthy, but once acquired, it of course means nothing.

I’d like to drive far, far away from my thoughts that continually bury me, but they come back, like an STD that I have so far not contracted. (eek!)

But I don’t have a car. (and if one day I do, that will mean nothing anyway. Obviously.)

21 comments

  1. Dawn D

    Oh Dawn!

    That rings so true to me too!
    It took a stay in a psychiatric hospital for me to realise that I am able. People marvelled at small things, things I found unworthy and unimportant such as my ability to speak a foreign language well enough to have therapy in it, to sing, at my ability to understand all sorts of scientific concepts and at my general knowledge, at the way I was able to finish jigsaw puzzles (! Yes, they actually complimented me on it. And no, they weren’t high! πŸ˜‰ ) or Sudoku, to learn a new game of cards in a day, to knit and cook… all the things that seemed so obvious to me that I didn’t pay attention any more. It did make me feel good to be complimented, and it also helped me to realise that I shouldn’t take it all for granted.
    It’s not to mean that I don’t feel like you most of the time. Too often, I feel like I’m not worthy, that my abilities (which abilities?) mean nothing. And then I remember that experience, and I realise that I achieved a lot of things in my life, even if I’m not renowned, if I never invented the world’s next cure for AIDS or any other such accomplishment.
    And sometimes, especially lately when I ran away from the negative influence of my abusive husband and found supportive friends, I’m even able to accept that I am enough, just the way I am. With all of the things I know how to do and am still learning to do…
    It’s not easy, but I know that with everybody’s help, I’ll get there.
    And you can too πŸ™‚
    Bises, tout plein!

    • pivoine68

      I guess that that is what is exhausting / confusing / exasperating about this kind of stuff. On an intellectual level, I see the abilities and strengths that I am lucky enough to have…but how I feel about myself never seems to correspond. At all. Even when I do feel those things, it does not really seem to last. The slightest bump in the road throws me way back where I started.

      I’m kind of drunkish and I know spelling mistakes are about to happen. 😦

      Bisous right back,
      Dawn

  2. Dawn D

    Oh, and well done on the driver’s licence, and you’ll see, the car thing will happen if you truly desire it. Though it would also deprive you of the nice opportunities to have perfect strangers fall into your sweaty yet welcoming lap on the bus πŸ˜‰

  3. TK.Kim

    Drive to me… We’ll get lost and we don’t care. No need to talk, just drive, right , left, left, fucking no where with no destination . I’m waiting, i’m reading!

    • pivoine68

      Ouiiiii! Let’s do a Thelma and Louise together. We don’t necessarily have to drive off a cliff….but when we approach one, I’ll put it in second, brake lightly….God, I think I would love it.

      Thanks for being in my world, Spleen Sister!
      Bises en pagaille,
      Dawn

  4. Mrs Fever

    Milestones are only important when they are an obstacle in the path we are pursuing. Once past them… What was once a giant boulder becomes but a tiny pebble.

    • pivoine68

      I think that you are right, but how does one build a foundation on tiny pebbles? I keep on trying and never seem to get to the place I want to be. Often I think I am really getting farther and farther away from what I am looking for.

      Bises Mrs. Fever,
      Dawn

  5. Jayne

    Dawn, you know the drill, onward and upward as always. Standing back – back where we can sit and actually see the wide range of what we’re doing… You’re living and you do have a great times (s) There’s no denying that, right? xoxo. I had to pop in and say hello to you. I’m away doing a project and won’t be back for days. love, J

    • pivoine68

      Thanks for stopping by Sweet Jayne! You are right, in between all of my mental turmoil, I am having a few higher highs than I even ever expected to have. πŸ™‚
      I hope you and your project are doing well.

      Je t’embrasse,
      Dawn

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s