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The last race of the regular season was this past Friday, the race that determined who on the team would be moving onto to the conference championships in two weeks. And I made it! I'm going to conference for the first time!
I have wrestled a bit this year with feeling like an outsider on the team (not to mention every other aspect of my life here) but when it comes down to it I am very grateful to be a part of such a supportive and fun group of women. They are all kind and talented and unique. I don't know what I would do without them.
Sometimes negative feelings can be addictive for me. I don't understand why, but bad feelings breed the desire for more bad feelings. It becomes a cycle that I know how to break if I can manage to decide that I want to. The isolation I sometimes feel is self-induced. Ultimately, it was a way for me to wallow in my grief, to try to convince myself that no one understands me, that the pain I feel is completely unique and unmatched. Everyone wants to feel special, I suppose.
Today was one of those days. I have had a good week, trying to listen to myself and to the world more. I have done a good job allowing myself to feel things (particularly anger), accept them, and then let them go. Breath, accept, breath, accept. Today that went out the window. All I wanted was to lay in bed and sulk, and that's what I did. I suppose sometimes that's what needs to happen as well. Actively keeping myself in a good head space is exhausting. Sometimes a day just gets thrown to the wolves. But sharing is good for me, so I'm trying to do that more and more. I'm not alone, and I don't want to be. Not really.
I have wrestled a bit this year with feeling like an outsider on the team (not to mention every other aspect of my life here) but when it comes down to it I am very grateful to be a part of such a supportive and fun group of women. They are all kind and talented and unique. I don't know what I would do without them.
Sometimes negative feelings can be addictive for me. I don't understand why, but bad feelings breed the desire for more bad feelings. It becomes a cycle that I know how to break if I can manage to decide that I want to. The isolation I sometimes feel is self-induced. Ultimately, it was a way for me to wallow in my grief, to try to convince myself that no one understands me, that the pain I feel is completely unique and unmatched. Everyone wants to feel special, I suppose.
Today was one of those days. I have had a good week, trying to listen to myself and to the world more. I have done a good job allowing myself to feel things (particularly anger), accept them, and then let them go. Breath, accept, breath, accept. Today that went out the window. All I wanted was to lay in bed and sulk, and that's what I did. I suppose sometimes that's what needs to happen as well. Actively keeping myself in a good head space is exhausting. Sometimes a day just gets thrown to the wolves. But sharing is good for me, so I'm trying to do that more and more. I'm not alone, and I don't want to be. Not really.