Positive Polly Inspiration

Last night my boyfriend made a painfully accurate observation of the fact that I tend to post more when things are going wrong than when they are going right. I feel that I must now admit to you all my emo roots.

Back in high school, I wrote painfully depressing poems about love and death. I also wore a lot of eyeliner and cut my wrists. Essentially, I was the definition of a upper middle class caucaisian girl who wanted to have something to rebel about. So, I chose to be overly depressed and emotional.

I am ashamed to admit that I am still far more inspired by chaos and trauma than I am by the normally paced fluidity of a happy life. Yet, I take solace in the fact that Edgar Allan Poe was never viewed as a Positive Polly. I should probably check my facts, but I am pretty sure that he was one of those who didn't experience much recognition during his own life.

Hang on.... I shall Wiki it.

Ok, I take it back. "The Raven" was apparently quite successful. However, he did die at the age of 40 from unknown causes. Wiki lists and exorbitantly long list of possible causes. Point is, he stayed tragic because his life was tragic. I don't really want to lead a tragic life.

In fact, the real purpose of this blog is to highlight how my somewhat tragic beginnings have provided the insight that I deem as necessary for a rosy future. Or at least to discuss how I am no longer completely dismayed about what will become of me.

Truth be told, I tend to have one or two post ideas everyday about how I view things differently. Unfortunately, these ideas tend to flee from my mind in the wake of my toddler crying or the dryer chiming that it is time for me to fold yet another load of laundry.

So, I am faced with a bit of a dilemma.

Do I post only when I feel truly driven to discuss something of the utmost importance? Or, do I make more of a concerned effort to blog every other day or so about the things that I am recognizing in passing?



Well, I can hope that I will do that latter. It is my hope. I just don't know if I will be able to stick to it.

I think that is one thing that I can dedicate a few minutes to talking about: commitment.


I think that I have previously discussed my deep seeded trust issues. If not, I will sum up quickly. I pretend to trust... But, in reality, I am expecting everyone to either die or stab me in the back in such a way that would make me want to die. I am sure that plenty of you can relate to this sentiment without further information.

Well, when you don't really trust anybody you tend to come up with reasons to be the first one to bail. Am I right?

You would rather hurt than be hurt?

It is kind of a basic survival instinct that seems to manifest itself in weird ways now that we rarely need it in life or death situations.

So, you fear people but you crave them. You want to commit; but, you are inherently terrified of what that really means for you. It is the constant back and forth that goes on inside to the point that can drive you crazy. Often times, it actually does.

Well, when I was very sick. When I was weak and depressed and engaging in behaviors and smoking weed and not doing much of anything valuable with my life... I drove myself crazy with these ridiculous trust/abandonment issues.

I would start fights with friends because I felt inadequate. I would make mountains out of molehills.  It was inevitable that I would misinterpret a long pause between text messages to mean that they were ignoring me or didn't really like me as a person in the first place.

This was primarily because I hated myself on a level that was harder to accept than that everyone else didn't like me.

The reality was that I was actually quite nice to people. I was a bit emotional; but, I was always kind and loving. I always offered to help. Often over extending myself to points that I need not elaborate. It suffices to say that there were days where I drove two separate friends to and from work and helped another write a paper. I never did my stuff, it was always other people's.

This fed into the idea that I was worthless. I repeatedly blew off my responsibilities in an attempt to prove to others that I was a good person. That I was an asset to them.

Unfortunately, I never tried to become an asset to myself.


Eventually, I wised up and started to be selfish. This was around the time that I was breastfeeding and felt that I deserved to be. After all, if my body wasn't mine, than at least my time should be.

 Gradually, I started to do things for myself. I started to work and get good grades and take care of myself and my daughter on a soulful level. I fostered trust in myself. I let other people down. I lost more people. Yet, I tend to think that they were worth losing if they begrudged my doing that which I needed to do. My ex falls into this category for anyone who was wondering.

The first person that I actually committed myself fully to was my daughter. I will grant anyone that there isn't much fear of rejection from an infant. However, it was more meaningful in that I began to trust that I wouldn't let her down.

You see, that is what those of us with abandonment and trust issues must learn to accept: ourselves. That we are the ones who have perpetuated the cycle of distrust. That it is our rejection of our selves that prevents us from truly connecting with others.

In the last four years, I have made and lost an equal number of friends. It has been a bit trying. I am still rebuilding my support network. However, I am looking for pillars not matchsticks.

I think that it becomes easier to accept that someone won't leave you once you recognize that you are not someone that you would want to leave.

If you are who you want, then surround yourself with those you want. I can guarantee that you will be proud of the results.

Peace Love Strength.