The Person Formerly Known as Me

I feel like mush lately. A few weeks ago, I saw a Bones episode where the obligatory body (after all, it is a show about a forensic anthropologist crime-solver, bodies abound) was found in a field wrapped inside a black plastic trash bag. The former person had been - no delicate way to put this - run through a wood-chipper. So, the bag was full of mush. Is this too graphic? Probably. I'll hurry along, but the visual I'm going for here is that when I saw that bag, I immediately thought, that's what I feel like! A big black trash bag full of yuck that used to be someone.

With the therapy, books I'm reading, and stuff I'm getting from God, I feel more screwed up than ever. I think it's the undoing of all the layers I've wrapped around me over the course of so many years. Like that bag of yuck is me, and the part of me that I thought was real is the part getting stripped away. Not very appealing. And most definitely not sexy.

Ugh. I feel like I'm way too old to be doing this crap. Why in the world do I have to clean out the rotted putrid gunk? What will be left of me? What IS me? Sigh.

No wonder I surround myself with distractions. This healing stuff is way too complicated and difficult. It probably doesn't help that I am forever in a rush to get things done. I'm looking for a step-by-step program outlining specifically what I need to do in order to "finish" this freakin' project 'cause this ain't no fun, folks.

It's beginning to dawn on me that perhaps:

1. I'm not going to be able to control this process
2. I shouldn't try
3. I need to keep repeating numbers 1 and 2 until they get through my thick skull

Dang. Well, if anyone needs me I'll be right here.
Heaped up in this bag.
Waiting.