I hate St. Patrick’s day. I hate what this day represents to me in my mind. I can say this now without fear of repercussion I’m not going to get disciplined by my boss or looked down upon for this now. (Seriously this happened.) I hate this day because of what it represents, what it means to me, what it did to me.
I had hoped this would be the year that I could finally get past this and move on. I wish I was the kind of person who could get past things and move on. I’m not. I dwell on and on about my mistakes and shortcomings- especially this one. The worst mistake of my life. I still can’t believe how stupid I was and how I let it go on for SO LONG.
I was once told by someone that I analyse everything like I live in a fishbowl. He was right then, 20 years ago. It’s still the same now. The tune is just different.
I know all this dwelling on the past isn’t healthy; I’m not a fool. Maybe someday I will get past it. Maybe I won’t. Matters of the heart have never been my forte. Maybe one day I will learn.
So today I’ve had a pity party. I’ve eaten dark chocolate and cried over my failures and dreams. Maybe next year will be different.
(Just as a side note, I’ve had therapy about all of this, but no amount of therapy will do anything if I’m not willing to change or just stop dwelling on the past. Maybe some day I’ll get there.)