This song has touched me. I listened to it about 10 times in a row on the way home yesterday. I do love Alanis Morissette, usually for her swearing, shouting girl power self, but this song makes me feel both sad and happy at the same time. I think it is what I want. To know that no matter what happens to me, I will be OK.
“That I Would Be Good”
that I would be good even if I did nothing
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten pounds
that I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all knowingthat I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingythat I would be good even if I lost sanity
that I would be good
whether with or without you
This is what I want in life, I need to know that no matter what happens – I will be OK. No matter what kind of state I’m in, that someone will love me. I want someone to love me every minute of every day and not only when I am acting a certain way. I want someone that can look at me when I’m sobbing in the dark because life is just too hard and then can see me capable and confident in a work situation, standing up in front hundreds of people and love both of those versions of me equally and without any kind of questions.
I want someone to be there for me, someone to hold me and love me and not judge me. To tell me that I’m good. Not perfect, but good enough. To be able to accept me for who I really am, not who I try to be. Who could stand up in the middle of the street and tell the world that they love me, even when I am an emotional wreck. I need someone to love me enough, strongly enough for both of us because right now I don’t really think I love myself.
But more than that, before that, I want to love myself. I want to believe that I am as good when I am down as I am when I am up. I think this is my biggest problem. I don’t have the self esteem to be able to love myself properly and if I can’t love myself properly then how the fuck is anyone else supposed to love me? The real me. The one who is struggling. Not the confident me that everyone thinks they know. The real me. Its so hard sometimes to tell them apart.
Sometimes I look in the mirror and see someone so strong, and capable, and confident and in control and I wonder who the hell she is. Where did she come from, how can she be there when the real me is a weeping child who feels as though its a physical battle just to get out of bed in the morning and hug her kids? Who sometimes has days so bad she just wants the world to go away and carry on turning without her.
I believe the face that I put on for the rest of the world and if I sometimes can’t see through it then how can I expect someone else to?
Its sad that right now there is nobody in my life who can actually see past the fake me and look at the real me inside, not even me. I worry about what is real and what is not real and whether I will ever know. I know there are people (Ok, one person) who is trying, so much harder than I ever thought he would, but nobody really understands, probably because I can’t let them.
Don’t feel too sorry for me. Not every day is a bad day, when I look in the mirror and wonder who I am. Some days I feel capable and confident and in control. I do have more good days than bad at the moment. The overwhelming feeling of failure and depression has lifted a lot, I know it is still there ready to drop back in at any given time but at the moment it is at bay. How long it will stay that way for, I don’t know.
But I do feel better writing about it. Understanding where (and who) I am and trying to document the journey back to being a me that I like, that I respect and that I could one day (hopefully, perhaps) love again. Even on my good days I see all the terrible things that have happened to me looking back at me out of the mirror. I’d love not to see that. I’d love to just see me. A me that I recognise and enjoy being rather than a me who is alien to me, or one who is squashed by sadness.
is amazing, all about depression. There is a line in it that made me shout YES. It says something like “living an emotional lie is exhausting.” How true. I feel that I am more myself than I have been for a long while and this is good. Less exhausted. More real. But being real hurts. It may not be as exhausting but its hard. So bloody hard. It was, in many ways, easier to live that emotional lie than it has been to tell the emotional truth. But I’m doing my best and that’s all I can do.
One day at a time.
Its time for something cheerful tomorrow, I think, and then I might just join in with Sinful Sunday again.