I grow increasingly annoyed with myself re : my procrastination.

I keep leaving everything to the last moment, even though I know that’s stupid. For example, I have had a week to do my Linguistics homework, and I only did it right before I sat down here to blog.

I told my fingers to type “blog” at the end of that sentence. First time through, they typed “play”. I am thinking I am having inner childcare issues.

I guess it could be said that I didn’t have a childhood, in that I didn’t have friends. I had a lot of independence, and there were certainly things I did for fun, and had fun doing.

But I get the feeling the real joys of childhood passed me by, and now my inner child wants to have fun fun fun without really having a clear idea of what that would even mean.

But if I had to guess, I would say it probably involves either other human beings and/or a lot more money.

When I think about what I really want right now, the first word that comes to mind is security. I want that carefree safe feeling that comes from a less restrictive, more secure life, and that means more money. My poverty makes me feel very vulnerable and cut off from the happy warm world of those with a better income, and I want to feel a lot more connected and included and, dare I say, grown up.

The desire to feel grown up might be one of the most childish desires of all. But it’s how I feel. I feel like I have completely failed to grow up and now I want to feel legitimate and worthy, instead of foolish and worthless. I desperately want to be able to afford nice clothing that fits well and good meals at decent restaurants and most of all, to be able to deal with people my age with my head held high.

Instead, I tend to feel the crippling shame that comes with my particular brand of failure to thrive. Compared to them I have done absolutely nothing with my life and I therefore have a status less than zero.

And knowing that I have been very sick for a very long time and it’s not my fault helps, but that only goes so far. A lot of time has passed me by, decades that I can’t ever get back, and the result is a deep feeling of inadequacy and a desperate desire to make up for lost time.

But I don’t have the resources to do that. Poverty really cripples a person that way. I can want advancement and legitimacy all I want, but until I at least have an Associate’s degree, I don’t have a way of acquiring it. I can tell employers how exceptional I am, but I have no way to prove it.

Plus there is the whole deal with my mental health. I can fool myself sometimes into thinking my social anxiety isn’t a problem any more, but it totally is. The terror I feel at the coming group work in my Introduction to Ethics class is proof enough of that.

My social and interpersonal issues run very deep. It’s hard to feel included when your strongest instinct is to eschew inclusion in favour of autonomy. As much as one part of me wants to be looking out from the inside for a change, another part sees that as a trap and prefers to be alone in the darkness outside, looking in and observing without ever becoming part of anything.

It’s that scared little animal in me, telling me that I am only safe if I have complete freedom of movement. It’s like I am a half-feral cat, willing to come inside for food as long as you leave the door open, but the moment you even look like you might be thinking about closing that door, I am out like a streak and it will be days before you see me again.

Better darkness and cold than being trapped, no matter how tempting the bait.

And it is going to take a long long time to domesticate myself. And it’s something I will have to do myself, as I am far too skittish for anyone else to do it for me.

I suppose it’s possible that the right person could make me feel safe enough for me to relax and stop looking for the exits in every situation.

But I can hardly wait for such a person to come along, now, can I?

And I know that means I should be pushing my own limits, but I feel so tired so much of the time. And stressed, in a way. So it’s hard to imagine pushing myself even further. It feels like that would be a nightmare and I would just end up feeling crazier as a result.

And I really don’t need to feel any crazier. One of the great things about going back to school is that it makes me feel sane and competent when I am there. School is good. School is something I can do. I didn’t have to do a job interview to get to school. I didn’t have to worry about rejection.

Rejection hits me hard. That comes from having a toxic childhood, according to an article I read recently. I can dig it. I did get rejected by my parents repeatedly as a child.

Most passively. Occasionally actively. I certainly didn’t feel like I was important to them at all.

In fact, I didn’t even feel welcome.

So yeah. I got a whole lot of crazy left inside me and birthing it to let it go will take a long long time, far too long for my impatient inner child who just wants to play and have fun.

But at least I am more awake and alive now than I have been in a long long time, and while that is not always pleasant, it is always good.

I’m getting there.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.