Reflections:The Child is Gone...

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Officially in less than 2 weeks. I'm OK with it. I think. It's just a number, and like I said before, I don't feel 30. I feel more like a big impostor, pretending to know what I'm doing, floating through life, dealing with those grown up choices through painstaking research when they come up...buying a car, moving into my first (and only so far) apartment, going on my first major trip to NYC. But mostly I avoid those big choices whenever possible, because I tend to obsess over them, research every little possible problem or complication. My social anxiety really acts up when faced with unfamiliar settings or situations, and my way of self-soothing is planning, researching, and anticipating.

Granted, this came in handy on my trip to NYC when I had detailed maps and itineraries of places we wanted to go (my more free-wheeling boyfriend G would have preferred to simply wander the streets aimlessly in search of things to do.) But not me. I knew that through having researched and planned the tiniest details, we would have more fun, waste less time getting lost and thus arguing, and experience less stress in the end. I am a bit of a control freak I suppose. I don't want to be caught unaware, failing in horrible and embarrassing ways. I'm afraid of the unknown, when others might be around to witness my reaction.This isn't always bad. Being careful and thorough can be a virtue, though it can also be paralyzing when taken to an extreme.

Next weekend we've planned to go to a State Park I've always wanted to visit, a very relaxing, nature-oriented trip. I sort of wanted to be away for my birthday, anyway. To help take my mind off things, not to dwell on the losses so much, missing things and people I shouldn't be letting myself miss so much. I don't really want to be around to remember that many people will not remember me even in a token, flippant sort of way. I don't want to feel that disappointment and sensation of invisibility any more. I've felt that way most of my life, and figured that by the time I'd reached 30 it would have dissipated. No. It's still there. I am pretty much the same person I've always been. It still hurts to be forgotten. So I am taking control and getting away with my boyfriend G, who has always remembered me even when I've taken massive and unfair liberties with his remembrance. I don't deserve it, but I will accept it, since it's been gifted to me a second time around.

 I've planned the weekend roughly this time, made the lodge reservations, looked at the lodge restaurant's menu, printed out the too and from directions from Map Quest, decided in basic terms where we would go each day. I'm trying to not micromanage this trip though, trying to go with the flow more. It will be a test for me. I know I can pass it.

I always like changing things up with my appearance around my birthday, too. Going to get my haircut this weekend. Nothing drastic, but it always makes me feel better. I hope someday when I walk into the spa I can feel like I belong among all the beautiful people. I can feel just fine on my own, but as soon as I enter that foreign territory I morph into my seventh grade self, wondering if everyone is wondering why this colossal joke has dared enter their sacred, perfect abode of flawless skin and shiny hair. Who knows, maybe I think it will rub off on me, and sometimes I think it does. I think I look much better now than I did at 15 or even 20, that's for sure. Though my mind sometimes plays tricks on me and makes me forget that it's 2011 and all those bullies and haters are long gone. And I'm not what they said I was.

I didn't expect to ramble on about that in this blog, but things come out the way they come out. I feel a little better, while my Uncle H has congestive heart failure and will likely be moved to a nursing home for a while to recover and be treated, he is not quite  at death's door, as I expected. I just need to get away for a while, figure things out. I need to shake the cobwebs from my eyes. Gotta wake up.


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