Thank You!

One Day at a Time

I was looking at random previous entries in my diary* today (something I rarely do). Two things hit me.

1) Two years ago at Christmas . . . Christmas of 2008, I felt extreme discomfort when visiting my extended relatives (grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, etc) because I was the only person at grandmother’s Christmas dinner without a significant other present. Without one, period. Without a date, LOL. I felt horrible. Unloved. Different. Strange. Dejected. God, man, and random chance had all conspired to fuck me over all at once. But I was sober. For some reason God had taken the desire to drink away (and I still believe that ONLY HE did this, otherwise it is completely unexplainable given where I was before with alcoholism). That didn’t help my self esteem in that short holiday period though. Still reeling from my break up with Megan** earlier that year, it was just awful, looking on while everyone around me had found someone . . . even my cousins (of course my sister was married by that time). Two years later, this past Christmas, Christmas 2010 . . . such thoughts didn’t even cross my mind. I’m not sure why. I didn’t even notice I was the only person alone at grandmother’s Christmas dinner (until long afterward). Yet I was. I guess it didn’t bother me at all. I was too focused on other things . . . enjoying my time off from work knowing I was getting paid personal days, the novelty of snow in Georgia and Alabama, my hiking/running. Perhaps it’s sad that I’m still single. But the good thing is, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it used to. I’ve been single more time than I’ve been with someone for my entire adult life. I’m not sure if that is good or bad. But whatever, it just is. Are my standards too high? Is it my shyness? Or is it more fundamental . . . is something majorly wrong with me? What’s the problem? I swear, out of all the women I know here in this town, there is not a single one I’d want to date right now. Not one. Now, granted there are many women in this town I don’t know. It’s Augusta, not Mayberry. There are plenty of chicks out there . . . somewhere around here. I’ve been told it will happen when it’s supposed to happen. OK. But yeah, I just thought it was cool to think about the difference in perspective that I had. Sometimes I don’t think I’ve come a very long way in two years, but obviously I have. I’m not as emotional. I’m more stable. I’m more comfortable in my own skin, even if I’m still not as comfortable as I’d like to be.

2) The other thing I realized when reading old entries was that I have gotten an extraordinary number of notes from people I have never responded to. Perhaps that’s why those individuals noted once but never noted again. Wow, it’s almost like I was so self absorbed with all of my emotional crap that I didn’t even notice, or care that people took the time to respond, offer advice and encouragement, or take note that they could relate to what I was going through. I mean, maybe I did notice. But why didn’t I respond? Yes, I’m still bad about notes even today. I’m busy. I’m sorry. Not sure why you all would want to read someone and note them when they rarely note you back. But, thanks. Really, thank you!

-AR

*I really prefer to call it a journal as opposed to a diary.  I mean, ideally.  Journal just seems more masculine, I don’t know.  But I still write diary sometimes . . . afterall, "open diary".

**There’s no reason to avoid mentioning her name these days.  That name doesn’t have the emotional power over me that it once did, so I will say her name.  I really don’t care.