It’s 4pm on a Saturday, and I have yet to brush my hair. I haven’t left my apartment, I haven’t put on shoes, and though I have showered, I’ve taken 2 naps since then, and am technically still in bed. I’m not ashamed of myself at all.
Why should I be? Who am I hurting? If I want to stay in bed all day, I do. Simple as that.
I’m not slothin’ it up because I’m depressed, lonely, or sad. I’m tired, a little hungover, and my feet are cold. I’m never inspired before my feet get warm. Also, it’s quiet, I have no plans, and a lot to think about.
Between naps, I watched “Runaway Bride”. I love Julia Roberts (when I was little, I thought my sister looked like her. She doesn’t, but it’s always made me like J.R. a little more, I guess.) and I recently realized that I’m a little bit like the main character, Maggie Carpenter. Except that I wasn’t brave enough to leave anyone at the altar, I waited until things were much harder to get out of.
Like Maggie, I did genuinely love the grooms at the time, that wasn’t the problem. But also like her, I’m a pleaser. I want people to love me in return, so I make myself into whatever they seem to need. I am supportive to the point of changing my habits and hobbies to match theirs, so they’re never uncomfortable. I help in any way I can, sacrificing my time, money and honest opinions so that they have what they need. I also usually end up driving them around, as well, because that’s just how my life works.
I will always do these things on some level. I don’t want to be with someone and not support an uplift them. But I also want to make sure I get the encouragement and love I deserve, too. That’s not unreasonable. I know, though, that changing who I am isn’t the answer. That first divorce didn’t really sell it, but the second is definitely bringing the point home.
The first order of business is figuring out just who I really am. I have a vague idea. But with this newfound freedom and time, I get to really clarify the finer points. What are my dreams? How can I do the things I’ve always been too scared to do? Why am I scared of everything in the first place? How the fuck do I like my eggs??
So what may appear to be laziness and wasting a pretty day is actually self-discovery, with a side of adorable rom-com watching. Though I’m pretty convinced nobody actually cares about this except me, I’ll keep you posted anyway.
I’ve already figured one thing out: I like to nap with the lights on. 1 down, 7,000,000 to go.