Holy fucking shit, I am in a bad mood. A really rip roaring bad mood.

I'm in such a bad mood it's keeping me from sleeping, despite being very exhausted-like tired.

Feh.

Back in the day, when I was anxious or feeling depressed or like shit about myself, I used to sit down and start writing in my journal, and eventually I'd tease out of my subconscious what it was that was *really* bothering me. Like maybe I just needed to cry. Or maybe I never got enough barbie dolls when I was little and I needed to grieve all gestalty and shit to feel better.

Now, quite frankly, I'm just tired of feeling bad. I don't care about the reason, I probably know what the reason is more or less. I'm really just tired of thinking about feeling less than O.K.

It's not something that happens all the time, feeling less than O.K. Oh, but it does happen. It's where my mind goes when I feel unsure about things in my life. It's like a mental habit I formed when I was young. "Feeling unsure and weird? It's much easier to think about how you suck!" Great idea right?

It's almost like my version of having an eating disorder. Eating disorders are all about feeling out of control and eating and food being the only things that you feel you *can* control. When I am feeling unsure about the future or something in my life, I just start down the laundry list of things I don't like about myself and POOF! no more anxiety attack for me! Just that old familiar feeling of feeling sorry for myself and self loathing.

That's nice and consistent. I can always count on that place in my head to be there, no matter how uncertain the rest of my life is. Hate my job and want to get hit by a bus today so I can never go back? Ah yes, perhaps I would like to indulge in a little despising of my diminutive chin. Yes, yes, much better. That glimpse of my profile I just caught in the window passing by is FAR more upsetting than my job. Let's think about that for awhile.

Sigh.. The irony is, is that I really don't even *believe* half the horrible shit I think about myself. Or even most of it. I believe, deep down inside that I'm pretty fucking cool, actually. Most of the time, these thoughts are like deep ingrained brain habits that are like my safety blanket. I just go through the routine when I'm feeling the crunch from the outside world.

And let me clarify (or perhaps the right word is 'admit') something for a second. Really, when I am feeling like shit and really giving myself the 'what for' it's having to do with my appearance, not my social skills or my personality. I have a FANFUCKINGTASTIC personality. But 'Extreme Makeover' doesn't exist because people want better personalities. Although frankly, most of the time that and a good haircut is really all that needs to be done.

No, no, I am the most boring of the females around who is constantly worrying if they measure up physically. You would not know it if you knew me. I try to keep most of it to myself. I am, however, the queen of self-deprecating humor, so there's hints of it. I'm sure it's more obvious than I like to admit. But if they only knew...

So, what to do? My great fear, and I think I picked this up somewhere in 7th grade, is that I will finally rid myself of these thoughts and start relating to the world and myself in the way that someone who thinks they aren't the hunchback's ugly sister might. Holy shit, right? What a radical concept.

But what if I do that and it backfires? What if I was right all along? What if I really AM the hunchback's ugly sister and really SHOULD pass go right to the freak show of my local boardwalk? What if I am FOOLING MYSELF?

So this is my fear. It essentially boils down to thinking I'm good enough, when in reality I'm not. Or in the 7th grade version of it all, being asked out by the boy you have a crush on, or the popular guy and then, when, all dewy eyed and full of young hope and romance you respond with a 'yes, I'll go out with you', the guy yells PSYCH! and laughs his ass off at you with everyone joining in.

*shudder*.. ugh.. and by the way, that never actually happened to me, but it was my greatest 7th grade fear. Old fears die hard, apparently.

You may be asking yourself, 'Oh my god, why in fuck's name do you even give a shit?' Or perhaps you'd be asking something similar without so many swears involved.. And I ask myself that question just as frequently as the popping up of self-loathing thoughts come up.

I mean, what a fucking waste of time, worrying about all that shit. Wasted brain energy when I could be painting or playing the guitar.

The feminist in me says it's because of the 'man' making women feel inadequate so all they do is worry about their asses being too big instead of thinking about ways to finally take over the world and start the long overdue castration festival. There could be some validity to this, but I think in order for that to take hold of someone they have to have a hole to fill caused by something else.

I guess I do have that hole. Ew, not *that* hole, a METAPHORICAL hole or whatever. I guess I need something a little less self-abusive to fill it. sigh.

The biggest frustration of all, is that this is something I've figured out OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I have lived a whole lifetimes focused on realizing that attitude is basically the only thing that matters. All those people on Extreme Makeover? I can guarantee that if they just worked that shit and was like 'check me out, I'm hottttt!' the whole world would relate to them differently. Feeling ugly makes you ugly, I know this. Ok, except for the bad teeth. The bad teeth, that they can still fix.

It's like that famous story about Marilyn Monroe with the reporter or a friend (can't remember) when they are out in public and no one even notices her. She says to the person she's with 'Want to see Marilyn?' and she busts out the attitude adjustment and suddenly everyone recognizes her.

It even comes through in photos. On days when I'm feeling like it's time to finally get the burqua to cover my shame, and there's a photo taken, I look like shit. But on days when I'm feeling like the most sparkly shiny fancy ladypants in all the land, and there's a picture taken, I look goood, yo.

But again, I say, why does it even MATTER. oh why?

It's where I place the blame when things aren't going my way, I guess. Some people blame other people (which is starting to seem like a better idea) but I blame my dimpled ass. The girth of my hips is why I can't find someone who isn't a crazy asshole to date me. This is why. Except there are countless examples that exist where people with far larger asses than mine find true love. DAMN! Another hole in my AIRTIGHT theory.. damn you logic! damn you to helllll!

So perhaps it's time to begin the attitude adjustment. But this means literally changing how I relate to the world. But what if people don't like me if I'm not that non-threatening, self-deprecating gal they've come to know? It's like an alchoholic having to get all new friends because they can't drink anymore. Plus, it's so.. so.. ME to be that way. What would I occupy my mind with, if not feeling sorry for myself because not EVERY person I meet wants to sleep with me? It boggles the mind, truly.

Not relating to the world that way really does feel like stepping into an unknown vacuum of time and space. And as we've already established (wayyyyyy up the in the beginning of this entry) when I feel like I'm unsure and unsettled, my mind QUICKLY rushes back to fill the void with the "if my fill in the blank was only better" thoughts.

Dammit. I guess I'm fucked. I know this is where I should decide to really focus on starting a meditation practice. Right? Start my own little cognitive behavioral therapy experiment? I've tried it all before. I guess I just need to try again. And again. And again, until something sticks.

In the meantime, when I'm really feeling shitty, I do remember that it could be so much much much worse and I should be so lucky that the only thing I worry about on a regular basis is if I'm pretty enough. I know this deep down.

As a good friend says, 'Hey! At least you can control your bowels!'. Lord knows it's true, and lord knows how long that will last.

So maybe I should just shut up and enjoy my functioning sphinchters while I can.

I'm thinking that's a very good plan. I hope it works.