There is something that keeps me from thinking clearly and logically in most situations. I suppose this is true of most people to some extent. Our emotions take over and we instinctively do what has kept us safe and/or happy in the past. We do what works. But what worked for me in the past no longer does. Using five-year-old or ten-year-old logic doesnít work anymore because Iím thirty-two. And yet I continue to use twenty five year old information. Which is, as anyone can tell you, bad for business. At some point I have to stop relying on a little girlís understanding. A ten-year-old cannot be a mature and working artist. A five-year-old doesnít know how to build and maintain a healthy relationship. An eleven-year-old certainly canít tell me how to get and keep a good stock portfolio. WellÖI suppose somewhere out there is an eleven-year-old kid who could, but she certainly isnít living inside my body.

The one that does live here is adept at some things, though. Sheís great at distracting me from worries and situations I donít want to think about. She knows exactly which food will be the perfect salve for my aching, bleeding, nervous heart, and she knows that I canít stop until itís all gone. She knows how to stop me from showing my vulnerability or even availability. My little protector. So good at what she does.

There is an obvious problem though. Sheís doing all this work in situations that donít require it. And Iím letting her. I donít think itís because Iím lazy and donít want to do the work for myself, itís that sheís very good at what she does and sheís just so damned convinced itís necessary. How like me, to be so stubborn.

In fact right now, as I write this, as I attempt to be very introspective and mature about it, my mind goes racing off in three directions and I canít remember what I started typing in the first place.



7:23 p.m. - 2007-06-23

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