All these pieces of me
It seems that, along with my inner hermit (who is quite the nature-goer, it appears; she led me to walk the dog around in the rain; needless to say, we are both very wet), my inner kitchen witch has come out. I thought it only a whim when I cleaned the bathroom; indeed, I did not stop for a break for I feared I'd never have the will to start again. Yet yesterday I felt the urge to bake my pineapple-coconut microwave cake (we have no oven in the house), especially since my mother had a very bad day; I never got to it, however, because I ended up rebelling against the state of what passes for our kitchen like I did the state of the bathroom. I've done all but scrub it down and wash the dishes, because I have no scrubbers, but I woke today with the same urge to clean, and will soon go to the store to buy scrubbers, a flower for the vase I found, and perhaps some fruit. Then, I shall bake. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, my friend will allow me to go to her house and use her oven.
I feel like I have a very many different parts of myself that are all making themselves known, and I must sort through them and figure out how to make them one woman. My stormy self has been about the last month or so, and her thunderstorms have not been pleasant. She is a powerful part of me, a part that can override all the others. She is inconsistent yet brave, strong yet self-destructive, and she rages in loneliness even as she drives other people away. She is me when I tear myself down, when I can't stand having other people around me yet yearn for someone to talk to, the me that makes decisions in a flash because she cannot stand staying still enough to be thoughtful and deliberate, or, God forbid, think about herself, because she does not care a whit for what she sees.
It is for that last reason that she comes with the dreamer, the part of me whose head is always lost in the clouds. She rather hates the world, it seems, hates effort and activity, hates people and reality. She wanders off into worlds of her own creation, dreamy universes that have no bearing on anything. She's been around a very long time, since I was very young; she is the escapist part of me, the one that wants to have nothing to do with anything. She's not like the hermit part of me, which is content in her quietness and aloneness; no, she's secretly bitter, because all her dreams and wishes and universes are nothing but thought, and will never be anything but that.
These two have been my major parts for a long, long time, and that displeases me. I think they are the cause of a lot of my stress, for they are parts of me that can never be pleased. I have tried to do so, yet remain unhappy. I think it is time I stop trying.
These last few days I have found another two parts of me, however, the ones I mentioned earlier, my hermit and my kitchen witch.
I say I have found my kitchen witch, but really she's been with me a long time; I call her such because she began to show herself around the time I started trying to get into Wicca. I'm not really into it anymore; honestly, there are very few pagans I can manage to take seriously, but she remains rather as she was. She's a bustling part of myself, cheerful and warm like a little round grandmother in her kitchen. She's the part of me that decided that parts of this house are Unlivable and Must Be Cleaned, the part who likes to bake and wants me to learn how to cook.
I find that I've often suppressed her out of a strange sense of embarrassment. That sounds strange, but I have often felt ashamed of her, because I am not all that hardworking, and I do not know how to cook well; I can barely bake, even when the mood strikes me to do so. I also feel ashamed because she is the part of me that would delight in being a housewife, that thing that has basically become a curse on the tongues of modern women. She wants to be simple and homely and busy herself with little tasks like baking bread and cleaning up, caring for those she loves. I think most people who know me have seen her as my motherly side, the side that keeps calling people 'dear' and 'hun' and fretting about at them.
Being my motherly aspect, she is also my protective aspect; that seems the only time my stormy self and her work in harmony: when someone has caused harm to someone I love.
My hermit self and my kitchen witch get along quite well, because they both love activity; I think gardening, if I could ever get myself to do it, would please them both greatly. She's the one that has despaired these last few months over the lack of animal companionship, as she is, as I said before, much a nature-daughter. She likes going on walks, getting drenched by the rain, communing with animals, and that sort of thing. She does not care much for human company at all, but she really, really wants me to get a dog. To the point that I'm tempted to say hell with study abroad if I can't take a dog with me and get one when I get an apartment this fall. I admit, I'm obsessed.
There are other, smaller quirks of mine that are maybe full on fledged parts themselves, but these four really are my major sides. I admit to being balanced, at least: two good, two bad. I'll never get rid of any of them, so I know it's useless to try, but I do have to figure out a way that they can work in harmony and become me, whoever I'm supposed to be. The way I am now is tearing me apart and I'm just not happy.
I think I'm going to continue as I have been doing the last two days; I need to stop neglecting the better parts of myself.
And as Cassandra has given me the thumbs up to go use her oven, I'm going to go bake.
I feel like I have a very many different parts of myself that are all making themselves known, and I must sort through them and figure out how to make them one woman. My stormy self has been about the last month or so, and her thunderstorms have not been pleasant. She is a powerful part of me, a part that can override all the others. She is inconsistent yet brave, strong yet self-destructive, and she rages in loneliness even as she drives other people away. She is me when I tear myself down, when I can't stand having other people around me yet yearn for someone to talk to, the me that makes decisions in a flash because she cannot stand staying still enough to be thoughtful and deliberate, or, God forbid, think about herself, because she does not care a whit for what she sees.
It is for that last reason that she comes with the dreamer, the part of me whose head is always lost in the clouds. She rather hates the world, it seems, hates effort and activity, hates people and reality. She wanders off into worlds of her own creation, dreamy universes that have no bearing on anything. She's been around a very long time, since I was very young; she is the escapist part of me, the one that wants to have nothing to do with anything. She's not like the hermit part of me, which is content in her quietness and aloneness; no, she's secretly bitter, because all her dreams and wishes and universes are nothing but thought, and will never be anything but that.
These two have been my major parts for a long, long time, and that displeases me. I think they are the cause of a lot of my stress, for they are parts of me that can never be pleased. I have tried to do so, yet remain unhappy. I think it is time I stop trying.
These last few days I have found another two parts of me, however, the ones I mentioned earlier, my hermit and my kitchen witch.
I say I have found my kitchen witch, but really she's been with me a long time; I call her such because she began to show herself around the time I started trying to get into Wicca. I'm not really into it anymore; honestly, there are very few pagans I can manage to take seriously, but she remains rather as she was. She's a bustling part of myself, cheerful and warm like a little round grandmother in her kitchen. She's the part of me that decided that parts of this house are Unlivable and Must Be Cleaned, the part who likes to bake and wants me to learn how to cook.
I find that I've often suppressed her out of a strange sense of embarrassment. That sounds strange, but I have often felt ashamed of her, because I am not all that hardworking, and I do not know how to cook well; I can barely bake, even when the mood strikes me to do so. I also feel ashamed because she is the part of me that would delight in being a housewife, that thing that has basically become a curse on the tongues of modern women. She wants to be simple and homely and busy herself with little tasks like baking bread and cleaning up, caring for those she loves. I think most people who know me have seen her as my motherly side, the side that keeps calling people 'dear' and 'hun' and fretting about at them.
Being my motherly aspect, she is also my protective aspect; that seems the only time my stormy self and her work in harmony: when someone has caused harm to someone I love.
My hermit self and my kitchen witch get along quite well, because they both love activity; I think gardening, if I could ever get myself to do it, would please them both greatly. She's the one that has despaired these last few months over the lack of animal companionship, as she is, as I said before, much a nature-daughter. She likes going on walks, getting drenched by the rain, communing with animals, and that sort of thing. She does not care much for human company at all, but she really, really wants me to get a dog. To the point that I'm tempted to say hell with study abroad if I can't take a dog with me and get one when I get an apartment this fall. I admit, I'm obsessed.
There are other, smaller quirks of mine that are maybe full on fledged parts themselves, but these four really are my major sides. I admit to being balanced, at least: two good, two bad. I'll never get rid of any of them, so I know it's useless to try, but I do have to figure out a way that they can work in harmony and become me, whoever I'm supposed to be. The way I am now is tearing me apart and I'm just not happy.
I think I'm going to continue as I have been doing the last two days; I need to stop neglecting the better parts of myself.
And as Cassandra has given me the thumbs up to go use her oven, I'm going to go bake.