Sunday afternoon.

My weekend was pretty boring. I went out to the Secret Society after writing my post on Friday night. It was crazy busy — busier than I’ve seen it in awhile. This was refreshing as I was able to converse with some new people I’d never met before. This is good. Socializing is good. Sitting on the iPad writing about people can only get me so far.

Joining this club has already taught me that I’m using alcohol and my iPad as armor in public to conceal the fact that I have raging social anxiety. It’s true. I admit that I’m not on the most stable ground right now and that I’m insecure about it. I definitely admit to the fact that I waltzed right in wearing my mask and my armor in an attempt to shield myself from yet another negative social experience.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t work there. Everyone is wearing a mask. They have no problem tearing it off to see who you really are underneath. I admit to the fact that I was never comfortable in my mask. I felt so much relief once they finally ripped it off for the big reveal.

Now I’m finally starting to get comfortable socializing again. I admit that I was really put-off by some of the negative experiences I’ve had this last year. But as I get closer to age 38, I realize… I just don’t have the energy to give a fuck what other people think about me anymore, especially people under the age of 35. You’re dumb AF. Turn off the fucking screen. Then perhaps I will take you seriously. Or not!

Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter. I know who I am. I’m figuring out what I want. I have collected all of the tools I need to manage my emotions and trauma. I have worked very hard on my spiritual journey to accept myself for who I am and love myself in spite of whatever mistakes I may have made in the past. The amount of work I’ve done to soothe my trauma is especially impressive.

I literally do not need to absorb other people’s negative opinions and perceptions of me. I’ve learned that people who feel the need to attack me and lob insults at me randomly out of nowhere are just assholes. Their behavior is about them. Their behavior is a reflection of their own insecurities and unhappiness. It has nothing to do with me.

I can validate myself. I can love and respect myself. I can become the person I want to be.

I spent quite a bit of time in meditation this weekend. Just out here vibing with the Hungry Ghost Festival. I did not attend the big spectacle, but I did leave a small offering at a nearby shrine for my ancestors. I think they liked it because I woke up today and felt like I could move forward.

I’ve definitely been held prisoner by my grief. I have not been able to move forward in life because I am trapped by my anger, sadness, and pain. This weekend I fed it all to the ghosts and let them take it all away. I know my dad can’t move on until I let him go, and I can’t move on until I let him go. I’m definitely engaging in any and every spiritual ritual I can in order to release both of us from this very complex grief.

I was supposed to go to a Complicated Grief support group meeting last week, but I freaked out at the last minute and didn’t go. I was afraid to speak about my pain in front of a group of total strangers, which makes no sense as I write about it all the time. I guess I will try again when they host it again next month.

In the meantime, I decided to cancel my usual Sunday plans of getting wasted at bottomless brunch so I could eat a salad and meditate instead. Good choices were made!

I just thought to myself, “I don’t feel like numbing out the pain today. I want to enter this week feeling rested and refreshed so I can maximize my productivity levels.” Then I went over my vision board again, visualized myself fulfilling my goals, and gave myself some snaps for the insane amount of progress I’m making on my current book. No one else in this world is going to be kind to me, so I might as well be kind to myself.

Since no one has said it to me lately (or ever in my life, it seems), I just want to say to myself today: “Betsey, I’m so proud of you. Everything you’ve done in the last year is amazing. I have full confidence that you will manifest your dreams, fulfill your goals, and become the person you’ve always wanted to be. Keep up the good work on the book!”

Or maybe that’s not me speaking at all. Maybe it’s my Dad trying to make amends. Who knows?

Either way, I’m heading back home now. I’m gonna eat my giant fancy salad and drink my juice and watch TV with my notebook next to me in case inspiration suddenly comes.

And yes, I will be wearing the sweatpants I stole from my neighbor. Yes, it’s true, I finally admit it. I did it. It was me. I saw them sitting there on top of his stuff in the stairwell when I went up to the rooftop one morning and I just took them. I don’t even know why. It’s not like I don’t have my own. It’s just that my pair is not as comfortable as wearing his pair. I don’t know why. It is what it is.

Either way, they’re mine now. I’m not giving them back. They’re really comfy and I wear them all the time. Like, literally every day. I’ve also discovered I am about 100x more productive when I wear them to write, as opposed to the brand new pair of men’s sweatpants I went to the store and bought for myself organically that did not come pre-worn.

And here I wonder why he disappeared on me. Lol. It’s not a mystery. I’m a 100% certified freak, seven days a week. And definitely not in a good way, lol.

Have a good day, ya’ll!