One Effed-Up Cookie

So here’s the thing. Back in December, early January I was really feeling the stress of school, work and finances. The stress was coming out through obsessing over my house and having everything in its place. Weird; I know. Anyway, I decided to tap into some free resources at University so I could figure out how to manage this ever-growing stress. I decided to go see a counselor to help me figure out how to better manage my time. The interesting thing about counselors is sometimes they know just the right questions to ask. Sometimes you don’t even realise something bigger is wrong until someone asks the right question. This is what happened when I went to see a counselor at University.

What started out as a few meetings on stress management has turned into a major self-evaluation. Lately, I’ve been asking myself some serious questions about my obsession with having things just so. Yeah, I’m a perfectionist, but my standards are bizarre. It’s not like I seek perfection in everything and it’s not like my idea of “perfection” is always the same. For instance, perfection when it comes to my home means having a clean kitchen… but it’s ok if my room is messy. Perfection when it comes to school means getting an A in nutrition but only getting a passing grade in physics. It’s all so irrational. Then there are the lifetime goals. For the last four years I’ve tried to convince myself that if I don’t get married it’s ok… but yesterday I finally admitted it: If I don’t get married and have kids, I’m a failure. This is truly how I feel. It’s the ultimate failure in my eyes. Now these standards don’t apply to everyone – just to me. If you’re reading this and unmarried don’t freak out! I don’t judge others… I only take pleasure in judging myself it seems. *Sigh*

I’ve also realised that I’m not over my relationship with Mike. This pisses me off because it’s been four freakin’ years. It’s not him I’m not over, it’s the fact that I failed, that I haven’t gotten over. Even though I agree that it was the best decision ever, even though I know that we weren’t meant to be, even though I admit that neither one of us was happy – I still failed. I just don’t know how to let go of the guilt and forgive myself. I mean, I’m clearly happier without him. He is likely happier without me… then why do I still feel guilty?

I also realise that’ I’m never going to meet Mr. Right until I get passed this. It’s like my aura screams out: she’s got issues! Keep moving Dude.

In addition I’ve become conscious of my tendency to set irrational goals I must attain. When I first started seeing Mike I automatically decided I was going to marry him and that was it. For the almost 8 years we were together I never doubted myself because that was the goal I had chosen… anything else would be failure. Who makes these irrational decisions at 20? When I make a decision I don’t go back on it. I always assumed I didn’t’ go back on decisions because they were always the right decisions… but maybe it has nothing to do with being right or wrong but with failing or passing. Going back on a decision means failing… pushing through with the decision means passing. I hate how everything is always so black and white with me. Why can’t I see life in shades of gray?

So all of this is making me worry a little about my career decision. I mean, I still feel confident about my choice… but what if this confidence is false? What if it’s just another of my “decisions” that I can’t go back on?

You see why I’m still single? You see why I’m a 30-something freshman? It’s cause everything goes all blurry in my brain and I can’t distinguish between what Changa truly wants and want Changa thinks society wants from her.

The irony of all this is the new direction my blog has taken. I’m such a goof! My blog says I am going against societal norms… societal norms? Bullshit. I’m the one putting pressure on myself. I mean, here I am screaming I am Changa hear me roar! I am a strong, independent woman and I don’t need a man – rah, rah, rah. When the truth is, I’m desperately hoping some prince will swoop in and save me.

So yeah, baby’s got issues.