About That

Self-sabotage.

I'm getting really good at this now.

I was laying in bed the other night, and I finally let myself accept that I am a self-sabotaging fool. It came over me like a ton of brick. One minute it was just a vague notion floating in the back of my mind, and then it was there. It was big, bold, and brutal. How about them alliteration apples?

Believe it or not, it was something that my mother said that set it all off. She mentioned that she is all about Downton Abbey these days. We were talking about the characters, and she was worried about the scullery maid's relationship with another character, saying how she was going to be "used in a bad way."

This is a reoccurring theme with her. This fear of being used by men. Once she told me that I was being used by a man. There was always a sense of impending doom surrounding men when it came to me. It was as if every man is out to get me. I'm wondering just how much I've internalized this idea. I certainly am very cautious when it comes to men. Almost assuming the worst about them until they prove otherwise to me. I'll be the first to admit that it is hardly fair.

I don't think that it is any wonder then that my world is almost exclusively female. I work with mostly women. My friends, on the whole, are women. In just about any given situation, I will talk to a woman I don't know before I'll talk to a man I don't know. It is definitely something that I need to work on in order to make this rabbit hole successful.

Then there is perhaps the biggest self sabotage of all. My neighbor pointed it out to me. She listens to all my crazy stories, always asking me about the next installment. She laughs, gives advice, shares her wisdom accumulated over decades of relationships. Flat out she told me "You go out, but the truth is Alice, you don't want anyone else but hoodie!boy."

So, I gotta wrestle with that monkey. It's a pretty strong monkey.

Tomorrow.

After the vaugely political thing.

Thing is, I'll curl my hair and wear the dress he complemented me on last week. I'll drink a mimosa or two and laugh and be proud.

Then, at first light, I'll suit up for the epic wrestling.

Or not.

Self-sabotage.