My Mother has been reading my diary more often as of late. Probably because I set it as the page her browser opens to whenever she logs on. Heh.

Does it bother me that she�s reading my inner-most thoughts? As long as she doesn�t send me pages in which all my spelling errors are circled in red, no. *chuckles* I like that my Mother reads my diary.

I find it difficult to talk about the things which bother me. I�m not exactly sure why, but my suspicion is that my reticence is left over from the whole, �kids should be seen, not heard. Better yet, they shouldn�t even be seen.� thing. I was never told that directly, but the hyper-sensitive person that I was, from birth, I intuited it. Most probably, in error.

Regardless: there are some things I want my Mother to know which I am not yet able to put into words. I don�t know if I�ll ever be able to put them into words. Thus, this is an entry dedicated to my Mother.

First and foremost: I love you with all my heart. I want your every positive wish, hope and dream to come true in your immediate future. I want you to have grandchildren which share your bloodline. I want you to look upon your new son-in-law�s face and know that he is the best possible husband for your heart-outside-your-body. (No, I still don�t have a man in mind.) I want you, most of all, to be satisfied with your life; to look around you and see that everything is taken care of; that you are held in the hand of God.

This new learning process, the one I have embarked upon in the past month, has been very, very difficult for me. I can see an image of myself, in my mind�s eye, which is so very contrary to that which I see in the mirror. I don�t know how to reconcile the two.

Yes, I want to be physically healthy. I want to be slender and get rid of the extra person which has been hanging upon my back for the past 12 years. (Rather, it�s been hanging on my belly, butt and thighs, but you know what I mean.) I have read through the material of this recent dietary/lifestyle information you shared with me. I believe it can work. And yet, I find myself unable to actually do it.

Throughout my recent life, I have been unable to actually do anything unless I was forced into it by circumstances beyond my control. I believe that this is partially due to my internal �belief� that the big hand will come out of the sky and place me in the spot I�m supposed to occupy. I know that belief is in error. I just don�t know how to change it.

That�s not true. I know how to change it. I don�t know how to make myself do what is necessary in order to change it.

Does that make any sense at all??

I have spent so much of my life using external motivation that I have never really developed my own internal motivation.

I have seen so much improvement in my own mental awareness/health over this past year. Well, I want to see more improvement. This year, I�m focusing, primarily, on motivation. Actually, what I would like to do, is have this internal motivation thing down by my birthday this year. *sighs* I don�t know how well that will work. And I�m not exactly sure how to do it.

You asked me today, where I saw myself in five years. I don�t know, Mom. I don�t see myself anywhere, specifically. I have dreams and fantasies about where I will be, what I will have accomplished and the �glory� I will have attained. But I�m struggling with the whole not-being-vain thing. That�s a tough one. Learning the difference between vanity and confidence is difficult for me. There�s a fine line there, and I�m not exactly sure where it is.

I think about the stories you tell me about myself in my young childhood. I remember you telling me about being so very young and wanting to see the construction work going on next door. From what little I understand of myself, the kind of person who would continually go against Mommy�s orders to examine the big machines... Well, that seems to be a person filled with curiosity.

I feel curious a lot. I want to ask the unending question, �Why?� all the time. And yet, I find that more often than not, I keep my mouth shut and just watch and wait.

I remember living in Snohomish and going out to the swimming pool when it was so very cold. I remember wanting to swim so much, that I would break the film of ice and just go swimming. Salamanders and all.

I remember cleaning the stables for Lucy Buse, feeding and brushing Ramari, just for the opportunity to ride the horse. I remember selling cards, newspapers, odd jobs so that I could earn money for camp.

That was self motivation. How did I lose that? When did I lose that internal drive?

I remember getting up the guts to ask Dan Sanders to be my escort to the senior prom. And it didn�t seem to be that difficult a thing to do. Why is it so hard for me now?

How do I go back to the mental time when I had self-motivation?

I know you want me to go to school and finish my degree. I know you want me to succeed and have that piece of paper which proves to myself that I can accomplish/finish what I start. But I can�t do it for you. I can�t go to school just because you want me to.

I don�t mean that to sound as if you are pressuring me. You�re not. But I feel an internal pressure. I feel that need to please you. Like a dog just begging for a scratch behind the ears. I want to make you happy. I want to see the smile on your face and know that something I did put it there.

And still, I don�t know how the hell I got so backwards. I don�t know how I got so... comfortable with being lazy. I don�t know how I got so good at not moving a muscle unless I was told to.

I know that being married to Duncan helped me be lazier than my natural inclination. I know that the over-protective way in which he would fuss over me... I know that his actions directly influence my choice to sit on my ass and do nothing but gain a hundred and fifty pounds.

Well, I�m not married to him anymore. I don�t have to sit home and wait for his phone call so that he wouldn�t worry. I don�t have to sit and be still so that he would know where I was and that I wasn�t hurt.

But how do I force myself to change this habit I�ve developed? How do I shift back into the gear I formerly enjoyed?

Damn, I used to walk because I enjoyed the motion. I enjoyed just being out in the fresh air. Why is it that I can�t force myself to even spend twenty minutes outside???

Do you know why I like going to Chuck�s so much? It�s my refuge. My refuge in rebellion. Duncan hated going to Chuck�s. He didn�t like it. He hated just going to that place for coffee. He wanted to go to Mary Lou�s.

I like going to Chuck�s because it proves to me that I can get out of the house, go outside, interact socially without a damned keyboard in front of me. It proves to me that I can walk when I want to. It proves to me that I don�t have to sit home and wait for Duncan to call, or Dad, or you, or anyone. I can be out. I can do what I want to do. And I can sit and drink coffee and write for as long as I want to and there�s no one to bitch at me when I come home late.

I go there because Josh is good looking and he�ll talk to me as if I were human. He doesn�t look down on me because I�m fat. He doesn�t look at me then turn away, making retching noises. (Yes, that has happened, all too frequently.) Ron, the owner, likes me. He thinks I�m fun to talk to. I�m a reg, Mom. It�s my real life Lair.

Yes, I want more. I want to do more, be more, see more, feel more. But I like Chuck�s so much because, well, I know everyone. I know the customers. I know the staff. People smile and wave when I walk in. Like Cheers. *laughs* No, no one calls me �Norm� but still, it�s a haunt, and it�s comfortable; and it�s not a bar or a dive, so to speak.

I still don�t like services much. It�s just not my style. But, I�m learning. And that is important to me. I go to services because... because you�d like me to be there. Yes, I need the �churching�, but... Well, it�s so reminiscent of WCG services week after week. And, I feel rather stupid doing special music for five people.

I don�t sing �for you� though. I sing because I believe that�s what God designed me to do and if I am unwilling to sing before five people, I have no right to sing before more. I don�t know if that makes any sense, but I know what I mean. Heh.

There�s more I want to say in this... there�s more I want to discuss. And, I want to tie this in with the previous diary entry, because they�re related. But it�s one in the morning and I have to work tomorrow. I�m about typed out.

So, know this... I love you, Mom. I love you so much. I want to see every good thing for you. I want you to be happy and healthy and I want you to see your dreams come true, even your dreams for me.

But, don�t push me right now. Not because I don�t need the push, but because I�m trying, so desperately, to motivate myself. I don�t want to rely on another �kick-start� to get my act in gear. I want to be able to actually do what I say I will do. And I want to do it for myself.

So, even though I�m not doing the diet the way you�d like me to, and even though I�m not eating the foods you would like me to... Eventually, I�ll be doing what�s right for my body. I just have to do it in my time.

I know that if you had your way, I would have been born in August. But, sometimes I have to do it at my own speed. Thus, you had a September baby. Remember that. My timeline and your timeline may not coincide. But, I will get to the end destination just as surely.

That might not make any sense to you... it might explain the entire world. I know what I mean and that, I think, is the important thing for right now.

I will have a clean room. But when I�m ready to change that part of my life. It won�t be on your schedule, much as I�d love to follow your schedule (cause I love the scratches behind the ear). I love you so much. Sometimes I would like to be exactly everything you�d like me to be. But, as you well know, I need to figure out who and what I am, exactly who and what I am. And then, I need to be true to that.

If I�m not true to who and what I am, I�ll never trust myself. If I can�t trust myself, no one else can either.

*sighs*

Does any of that make sense???

PS. I think it�s interesting that my spell check program tries to turn �Duncan� into �dunce� every time. Hmmmmmm.

PPS This, by the way, is my 700th diary entry. Be happy, Mom. You got the spot of honor. Or something. *grins*