Here I am, up in my room post birthday cake. I have eaten back all the calories I burnt today, not sure I care too much. I enjoyed the experience!
So I figured I could continue on my inner child angst blogging, which had been Night Walk, because we all deserve a blog, but I would be missing out on telling the story of my first time in the two Irelands. A story I will only get to tell once.
Plus the mos exciting parts of the retelling of my first love story have really passed. Now I just have the unending heart break, the continuous 'I told you so', and other unhelpful suggests etc etc, rather than anything actually interesting to say about it all. I guess it is just very easy for other people to judge and say you should have done this or this, but what good is it now? It is finished. It is good to reflect, but there is an element of over analysis being somewhat un-necessary and painful to experience. I didn't want those things to go wrong, I was only doing my best.
We all misjudge, and people can really shock and surprise us with their sudden cruelty or kindness. I get endlessly told I must love myself more, but I think I possibly love myself quite well, though not perfectly. If at all I think if someone is cruel or hurtful, like my first love was to me, then perhaps it is they who have the self love issue. People hurt one another sometimes because they don't care much for themselves. People treat us how they are treating themselves on the inside sometimes.
And I could rant about my dislike of the education system, and or school, but then my father also hated school, as did my mother, as do and did a lot of people I know well. School just isn't for everyone, though we must all go, and try and get an education out of it.
So, apart from the occasional asides into my heart broken ruminations, I am sitting in my room which I share with an Irish roommate, who has been complaining she is unwell, though has currently disappeared to be with the 'late crew'. The other night she was teaching me about Irish fairy tales, and I really want to know more. To learn Irish myths would go well with my Celtic oracle cards (I have shocked more than one Quaker that I got these from Woodbrooke). I have also taken a few Irish language lessons, but have no hope of remembering any of it by the time I get home.
Tomorrow we are having another quiet day here at the Quaker centre in Portadown, but Friday we go to Dublin, and I am super excited about this. I am very very excited about going to Dublin, beyond excited. ;-)
So I figured I could continue on my inner child angst blogging, which had been Night Walk, because we all deserve a blog, but I would be missing out on telling the story of my first time in the two Irelands. A story I will only get to tell once.
Plus the mos exciting parts of the retelling of my first love story have really passed. Now I just have the unending heart break, the continuous 'I told you so', and other unhelpful suggests etc etc, rather than anything actually interesting to say about it all. I guess it is just very easy for other people to judge and say you should have done this or this, but what good is it now? It is finished. It is good to reflect, but there is an element of over analysis being somewhat un-necessary and painful to experience. I didn't want those things to go wrong, I was only doing my best.
We all misjudge, and people can really shock and surprise us with their sudden cruelty or kindness. I get endlessly told I must love myself more, but I think I possibly love myself quite well, though not perfectly. If at all I think if someone is cruel or hurtful, like my first love was to me, then perhaps it is they who have the self love issue. People hurt one another sometimes because they don't care much for themselves. People treat us how they are treating themselves on the inside sometimes.
And I could rant about my dislike of the education system, and or school, but then my father also hated school, as did my mother, as do and did a lot of people I know well. School just isn't for everyone, though we must all go, and try and get an education out of it.
So, apart from the occasional asides into my heart broken ruminations, I am sitting in my room which I share with an Irish roommate, who has been complaining she is unwell, though has currently disappeared to be with the 'late crew'. The other night she was teaching me about Irish fairy tales, and I really want to know more. To learn Irish myths would go well with my Celtic oracle cards (I have shocked more than one Quaker that I got these from Woodbrooke). I have also taken a few Irish language lessons, but have no hope of remembering any of it by the time I get home.
Tomorrow we are having another quiet day here at the Quaker centre in Portadown, but Friday we go to Dublin, and I am super excited about this. I am very very excited about going to Dublin, beyond excited. ;-)
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