It’s coming.
Don’t make assumptions you can’t keep.
Me
Be silent and listen: have you recognized your madness and do you admit it? Have you noticed that all your foundations are completely mired in madness? Do you not want to recognize your madness and welcome it in a friendly manner? You wanted to accept everything. So accept madness too. Let the light of your madness shine, and it will suddenly dawn on you.
-
Carl Jung, The Red Book
(via panatmansam)
When someone puts you on the spot, just plop yourself down in the middle of the spot and say ‘Fine. Now this is my fucking spot.’
Me
Names Changed, Not to Protect the Innocent
I’m forty-four years old and I keep a journal (and realize I will possibly lose followers at the mention of either of these things. It’s ok. I won’t feel hurt). My first journal was a small, locked, five year jobby where I brazenly admitted my desire for Bobby Johnson* to kiss me and maybe touch my girl parts. I was eleven**. I do remember that the confessional aspect of putting onto paper thoughts that were naughty was thrilling for my young self, but what struck me in reading over these ancient passages was how sure I was. This was what I wanted and I said so.
I’m forty-four years old and now when I write in my journal, I am sifting through layers of complex and sometimes untraceable baggage and have come to the conclusion that I have a very simple problem: I don’t know what I want. The fact that by all reckoning I should know causes me to feel somehow deficient. I know some things like who I want and that I want to be good at what I do, but there remains a sense that I am not whole and won’t be until I find the thing that I want for me. And when and if I do find it, I should remember to say so.
*Name changed because quite frankly I can’t remember it. It might have been Billy***.
**Possibly twelve. Adding dates to entries doesn’t seem to have been a priority. Anyway…
***It was Billy.
