Loneliness and Insecurity

There’s a weird feeling I have at the moment, and it’s called loneliness and insecurity.  It means I want to talk and make a friend, but I’m insecure/anxious about how the conversation would go and whether it would be a positive overall interaction or a negative one.

As an HSP, apparently I go out of my way to avoid uncomfortable situations, so you can guess where that leaves me.  I guess I’ve kind of forgotten about my HSP-ness, except today, I noticed one of my friends on Facebook, an acquaintance, rather, had changed her last name back to her maiden name.  That’s never a good sign when you know they are (were?) married.  It’s really disheartening and while one shouldn’t jump to conclusions, I thought back to the research I read a long time ago about how neuroticism is the number one personality predictor of an unhappy marriage, in so many words.  I think HSP-ness and neuroticism pretty much overlap quite a bit.  So I made my hubby take the HSP test.  He’s not an HSP (no surprise at all there).  I think when I make my hubby take tests like these and listen to his responses, I realize how much I assume everyone around me must think the way I think, or feel the way I feel in response to things, and how strange it is to find out that they don’t.  You mean loud noises don’t really bother you?!  You mean you’re not bothered by coarse fabrics?  You don’t get nervous when someone is watching you do something?  You must be an alien!  Except no, the alien, folks, is me.  Just kidding.  We are 20% of the population, so not so alien after all.  But the point is, something about us, oh, maybe the way we are so very moody, makes it difficult for people to live very very closely to us, which marriage is.  Anyhow, as you can probably guess, this doesn’t make me feel too good about myself.  So it’s been awhile since I’ve thought about these personality things.  Thankfully, it is the Lord who brought me to my husband, and my husband to me.  His ways really are higher than our ways.  My thoughts are kind of all over the place on this.  I guess I just feel bummed when things aren’t working out for people and of course I can’t have any way of knowing what is actually going on, so how can I say anything?  It’s all very confusing.  Years and years have passed and so much change, too.

I think that’s what ties all of these thoughts together.  Change.  I don’t like change.  Since I’m back home, I’ve realized a lot of folks are probably still around, but I don’t know if they would want to talk to me.  There’s always the past, the connections to this person or that person, and then there’s this huge gap of time, and by now, I have no clue what to think or what they think, or if they even think.  I want to connect with people, but I have no words.  Or maybe they’re busy.  Or maybe I’m busy.  I would be okay, except see the reason I’m writing this is that I spent too long scrolling through a NewsFeed, reading just that.  News.  News about people, when all I really want is to actually sit down and talk to them, except I also don’t want that as well.  Because what if they don’t open?  That feeling when you can’t seem to get through feels even lonelier, somehow.  Why do things change?  So we left our old community behind, but I am forming a new community here, and it will take time.

I feel there is a new stage of life ahead of me.  The leaves are growing a radiant reddish hue and life is morphing as well.  It seems as I grow older, family becomes more and more primary, and more of them actually need your care, or is it that I actually notice and care about someone other than myself.  I will be 29 in a few weeks.  Throughout most of my life, I haven’t felt my age.  I’ve always felt younger than I actually was.  Today though, my age feels very real to me.


The Past

Yesterday I was talking to Hubby about “the past”.  I was considering, some people say that the past is the past.  As in, it doesn’t matter, and we should focus on the present.  To which I raise my eyebrow and think, yes, that’s a good point.  But doesn’t the past affect who we are today?  But to what extent does it matter or doesn’t it matter?  Some people are those who “need to know”, and others are better at passing over those things and having new beginnings.

I’ve always been the kind of person who has trouble letting things go.  The imprints on my heart run quite deeply.  I’ve found out from conversations, that many people can’t remember too many things from their childhood.  But I remember random moments.  I remember preschool, the fake cake with the pandas on it, and being excited when it would finally be my turn to sit in front of the cute cake.  I remember getting in trouble for being awake during naptime during daycare.  I remember my first week of kindergarten.  I sat on the carpeted floor and found a book about Spot the dog, and I read it.  And I found out that the other kids were not reading the books, they were only looking at the pictures.  And that was one of my first realizations that I was ahead of other kids academically.  I remember sitting in a chair for my first piano recital, not quite knowing what was going on.  I remember getting shots with a happy face, but it seems my memory must have tricked me because how can you have shots in the shape of a happy face?  I remember my first friend who asked me if I wanted to be her best friend, but it would have to be second best friend, because someone else was her first best friend.  I remember that I didn’t know why she wanted to be my friend, but she did.  I remember watching my best friend run around the playground getting chased by boys, and wondering what was so fun about that.  I remember receiving an inflatable hammer bigger than me as a gift in Hong Kong, because somebody else was afraid of it, and feeling quite good about myself.

Being back in the city where I grew up conjures up a lot of memories from “the past”.  Watching my cousin go through being a teenager again reminds me of my wide-eyed days, when a group of us genuinely believed we could change the world.  When there were no bills, no homes, no jobs to think about.

The past is a strange place.  What is it about some events that place them so firmly in my memory?

21-day Sugar Detox

I’m not into detoxes.  I’m really not.  I lumped them into all the other fads that I heard about growing up.  Atkins, lemon-juice cleanses, the like.  But then the other day I got an email from the Instant Pot group (what?) about the 21-day Sugar Detox!  And it actually intrigued me.  Like, I actually considered doing it.  But first I had to do some research.  Most of what I’ve read so far seems reasonable, not too far-fetched or crazy.  The only thing that is weird is the no fruit thing.  I’m also considering how I want to do this, and maybe even just borrowing the book somehow and planning out my own recipe schedule.  I need a buddy though.  CC said she might do it with me, after the graduation hoopla is over, because you know, wedding coming up.  So I might have a buddy!  I would have asked my hubby, but I feel bad because he’s got a big sweet tooth!  But he might be down.  Mainly, I’m just super bloated lately, so I want to see if this kind of diet would help.  It doesn’t seem too extreme, which floats my boat, and seems logical enough.  Meanwhile, I’ve got sweet potatoes baking in the oven..


I’m trying to study anatomy right now because I have a quiz later.  It’s pretty challenging, and I feel like writing because I just read this sappy well-written article in the NYTimes about a couple that, well, let’s just say the ending is happy. I found my way into the student union for study, but there’s a girl a table away sharing the Bible to this guy.  She keeps saying things that cause me to look over, like about how “psuche” is the word for soul-life and “zoe” is the word for the eternal, uncreated, incorruptible life.  I’m wondering where she got her notes from, cause it sure sounds like Witness Lee, those adjectives together in that order describing the zoe life.  But I don’t know her, so I can’t walk over and interrupt their time and ask.  And then I heard her talking about John chapter 1, about God being the Word, which in Greek is “logos”. In the meantime, I was talking to a friend about this article I read, and he basically goes, “That’s nice, but that’s not realistic”.  I felt like all the sensations swirling around in me were crushed in an instant.  I snapped back into reality, and had to acknowledge that he was probably right, it wasn’t really a common thing.  After all, I thought to myself, if it was so common, why would someone want to write about it?  How many people write about going to the bathroom?  Not many, I think.  Yet by the way she wrote about her own experience, I felt like she could have been the girl next door writing it.  My neighbor, my classmate, some stranger passing down the hallway.  But, she wasn’t, I guess. I studied with a classmate today, amidst my neurotic “Oh Lord”s and face buried in my hands, we made good progress.  She reminds me of another friend of mine.  The resemblance is what they call, striking, uncanny, what? She closed her Bible.  Do I go over and interrupt them now?

My perfect pair of pets would be a cat and a dog who like each other.  It’s not common, but it just makes sense to me.


I’ve been trying to bond with a bunny rabbit.  It’s been a little tough at times, because she gets scared rather easily and when she gets scared I have to give up and call it a day.  I did a little research about what I have to do to win her heart over.  I guess it didn’t help that the first couple of times we met, I had been petting dogs so I probably smelled like them.  Anyhow, I sat in her space, did the ignoring thing, let her smell me, did a little bit of petting, and in general have tried not to reach into her cage space.  I did this a number of times and I’ve been making progress, to my surprise.  Today I came over and called her name, and put my hand over the edge of her space, and she bounded out of her cage and came over to me to get some pats just like that.  Before she would’ve ignored me, or worse, come out and then ran back into her cage and stuck her head behind her litterbox so she couldn’t see me, or, presumably, so I couldn’t see her.  Of course, I can still see her, but I don’t think she knows that.

On the flip side, I’ve been trying to get to know people a little bit in class.  It’s tough too.  Unlike rabbits, my classmates talk.  I can’t just give them pats on their heads and feed them hay until they like me.

“Oh you know, you know, you know”

“I’d never ask you to change” – Bruno Mars

So many sweet, sappy, couples these days.  And so it then follows that it must be true, that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  I realized how wrong that sounds (I sure have a habit of saying things seriously and accidentally implying something negative).  My point is, isn’t it funny (read: amazing) how our eyes can create perfection out of imperfection, beauty out of broken?  It makes me warm and fuzzy inside.  Sort of.  Cause I’m not so sure it’s too warm and fuzzy in there.

Speaking of couples.  M, who I traditionally referred to as “spouse-y” in our high school days, tells me she wants me to “pursue her”.  So she asks if I can hangout over the weekend and I go, “I don’t know.. text me..” and she goes “No that’s passive! *laugh*”  And I go, “Oh right, I’ll pursue you!”  Dear friends.

I’ve reached a sort of plateau it seems.  And I’m okay with that, sort of (because I’m never really okay with a plateau).  For now.  I’ve been debating my next step and so far have reached no conclusions.  I’m afraid to take the next leap of faith.  My ground has felt like sinking sand for so long, I’m still not sure what solid feels like.  Solid maybe sounds like this though:

Give yourself to love the Lord.  No other way is so prevailing, so safe, and so full of enjoyment.  Just love Him.  Do not care for anything else.

Pensive at 25.

Growing up is a strange thing.  It is strange because I am at that age where it starts getting a little awkward for people to ask how old I am.  What?  

Emotionally, it has been a rough day, weeks, year.  Each year brings in reflections and today with the morning came a unwanted realization that I am prone to addictions.  Addicted to the internet, addicted to my phone.  What do you do with it?  D and M took me out for lunch, which was very appreciated, and I had a few moments of unadulterated glee from the huge strings of lights in the Hyatt hotel.  D also tried to hint at the B to treat us, which of course he smilingly declined to do.  

I came home to two lovely, sweet cards, and then proceeded to read a post entitled Justice For Quinten.

It made me sad.  But it also satisfied that idealistic, justice-seeking, part of me.  So here it is.