Feelings of inadequacy

There are times I have difficulty understanding how something I read or hear or see on TV/movie can take me back to "that place."  That place of utter despair when I realized that what I thought my marriage was isn't what it appeared to be.  Or at least the two people involved had different perspectives of what the marriage had become.  It's been five and a half years almost - when do those feelings go away?  Do they ever go away?  Am I holding onto those feelings for some sick/twisted reason?  Am I really as "together" after this whole mess as I like to think that I am or am I just fooling myself?  It's currently the middle if the night as these thoughts plague me as I should be asleep.  Why are these thoughts coming to me now?  I took an almost 40 minute walk today - why couldn't they have come to me then?  It's nights like these that I just want to scream or cry or something until I am utterly exhausted and can fall asleep (even though I feel as if my 1.5 mile walk after work should make me want to be asleep right now...).

I know that I should be asleep right now since I have work/dance tomorrow but I feel compelled to write and I haven't felt that way in some time.  Maybe if I get some of these thoughts out of me, it will be the emotional purge I need in order to let my mind/heart be quiet in order to get a few hours of sleep...  Thinking about it, while I've still been writing weekly, I haven't taken the time/opportunity to write about some of the thoughts/feelings that have been creeping to the surface because I haven't wanted to face them or I didn't feel as if people really wanted to hear what struggles I've been having.

I've had to remind myself that I started writing for me and I told myself that this was an avenue that I wasn't going to censor myself.  There are times that I have to squelch the "real" me and even though I write under a pseudonym, this was a place I didn't have to hide away or change who I am in order to have people be okay with me.  Either you read or you don't.  You can read part of what I write, you can read all of what I write or none of what I write.  You can agree or disagree with me.  I write for me.  Yes, I value my dear readers but this was an opportunity for me to write about my quest - the good, the bad and the ugly about it.  I feel as if I am currently fighting giants and people are trying to convince me that they're windmills (Man of La Mancha reference) but I know they're giants.

In my head, I know that the wasband made the decisions he did for whatever reason.  Over the last number of weeks, I have been right back to when it happened and questioning if it really boiled down to being my fault as he said it was.  I thought I'd come to terms with the thought that what happened up until he left was because of both of us and when he left, that was on him.  So why, five and a half years later, am I back to that place?  It makes me sick to my stomach to think that I'm still not fully over him and I just want to give myself a swift kick in the butt or head or wherever it would make some sort of difference.

As I sit here writing, I just glanced down at my gypsy tattoo and I don't know if it's because it's late or what but she looks as lost as I feel currently.  When I first got the tattoo, I loved how determined she looked (the expression on her face was always one of confidence and a "don't mess with me" air to it) and in the middle of the night (at least this particular night), her expression matches mine.  While the expression hasn't changed (since it's drawn that way) it's almost like it's now saying "don't mess with me.... I think... If that's okay with you...?"  Why has she gone from the confident gypsy to the gypsy who feels the need to either ask permission or seek validation/approval from those around her?  I want her (and me) to stop feeling as if the validation of others is the most important thing.

I had someone ask me the other day if I had ever considered writing a book (they had just recently found out I keep my blog and read a few of my posts).  The thought of that both terrifies and secretly thrills me.  Terrified because I don't know if I could do it and if I did, would I only sell copies to myself that I then force upon family and friends?  It thrills me in the sense to think that something that I put to paper would be out there to (hopefully) inspire others.  There is no real easy answer to the question about writing.  I do enjoy it and I find it liberating (most of the time) but would I have enough to say to fill an entire book?  Maybe I need to live a little more first before that becomes any sort of a serious possibility...

A strange/random thought just came to me.  Maybe one of the things I need to do in order to propel myself back into the land of possibilities is I need to obtain a passport.  It's something I've thought about before on several occasions but I have never had a need for one so I've never done it.  If I had a passport, I might look into going on an adventure.  Where?  With who?  I have no clue.  But I stifle myself before I even start if I don't even have a passport.    With the nature of my job, I don't know when I could even look at the possibility of such a trip but even the possibility would be nice to have.  Maybe I could go on a cruise and find a colony of mermaids that  would let me join them...

I have felt lately that I have been forced back into the box/mold that I have so desperately been trying to free myself from.  I'm setting the box around myself though and trying to shove myself back into it.  I'm the one establishing the parameters/boundaries around myself that I alone am then fighting.  How strange is that?  Something for me to ponder in the upcoming week or so -- preferably not in the middle of the night.  Thank you for joining me along my quest, dear readers.