Leech

Watching my tendency to over-complicate things. I emailed my coworker and told him I couldn't make it, with what was probably too much detail as an explanation of why not. He wrote back, 'Ah, bummer. What about the 7th instead?'
Men, I'm sorry we women are so fucking complicated sometimes... I envy that simplicity.

I wrote to Master and told him about it, and said that I had a vision of myself this morning as a giant leech, just waiting for the next warm body to latch on to to feed from. And that's the truth of it. Disgusting.

Why can't I just be happy and go on a simple date with a nice guy, maybe get laid, have a good time? Suddenly I've made it into this whole Big Deal.

I'm just scared and overwhelmed. Not by him, by life, and the prospect of dealing with it by myself in what 10 years later still feels like a foreign country sometimes, so far from family and friends.

He wrote back, 'No problem, I understand. Let me know if you need anything." I could do a lot worse for myself than date such a sweetheart. But that is the leech talking. The scared one, the one who doubts herself and her own capacity for survival. I can't do that to him, I can't find another host and suck his life out too.

I know that's a strong analogy probably, but it's true. Ego is an addict. I am addicted to relationship and being supported, and not finding my own way, or my own happiness, or my own sexual responsibility. That has to stop. I have to wean myself off the tit of 'other'.

Life, the world, my coworker, isn't Mom, waiting to feed another helpless child.