Okay, I’m going to a seminar in February and I’m really excited about, but the woman who’s coaching me until I get there has suggested that I journal about my desires. She has suggested this every time we’ve talked and we’ve spoken over half a dozen times since this whole thing started.

This Seminar is going to be mindblowing and because I know that I keep finding reasons not to go. I was going to go in August, but it came up too fast and I think I just got scared, well, I know I got scared, but I came up with what seemed like reasonable excuses. Then I was set up to go in November. The seminar ran from November 4th through the 9th. I didn’t want to miss election night along with other reasons, again all seemingly reasonable, so I didn’t go. All along this journey, this woman has been calling me (at my request) and we’ve been having lovely conversations about life, the universe and everything. Including the Seminar. In each phone call she has suggested that I journal about my desires. I would say, “of course, that’s a great idea.” And then promptly forget that I’d said that I would.

In our last conversation it suddenly occurred to me that I was deliberately forgetting, because when she asked me if I had this time, I started laughing because I knew in that moment that I had completely forgotten to.

So, in that moment I wrote on a blue post-it note: “journal about my desires!” and posted it on my computer. It’s the only post-it note there, so it’s not like I can’t see it. And I spend a LOT of time on my computer. So now, I look at the note and think, “nah, not today.” The note has been up there for over a week.

What is it about the idea of thinking about what I might desire that is so off-putting?

What do I desire? When I type that sentence and then read it, I go completely blank. I look at those words as if they were not English, but rather some foreign language that I do not speak.

If I pay even closer attention, I’m realizing that what actually happens in my body is that I freeze. I stopped breathing, holding fast as if hiding from something or someone dangerous.

What is it that I think will happen if I ask for what I desire? Am I afraid that I won’t get what I desire, or am I afraid that I will get what I desire?

Could I handle being that happy? If happiness is what I desire. Could I handle being that sexy? If being sexy is what I desire. Could I handle being that loved? If being loved is what I desire.

Damn. I want to be loved. And I don’t believe that I’ll ever be unconditionally loved. What’s sad about that sentence is that I already am unconditionally loved, but it would appear that it’s not enough somehow.

I am choosing to block most of that luscious love that I know is being directed my way. I know how much love is out there because I know how much love I put out. And yet, I don’t seem to turn that love around and direct it at myself and I block it when others send it my way.

This is an old game of mine. And before I was just mad at myself for playing that game, because my intellect could see how silly and stupid that game is. But right now, what I’m feeling is sadness. Sadness for all that I’ve missed out on, not because it wasn’t there, but because I couldn’t or wouldn’t accept it.

So I started this blog by posting one of those fun, silly little games that I found here. It was my intention to simply post that and have you all play. And then I started writing. I’m glad I did. And you can still go play that game by heading over and checking it out for yourself. It is fun, but it isn’t what I needed to post.