Most of that applies to most people I know, according to what they tell me. That was Trainwreck's problem for instance, if ever I heard it. But almost none of that is why I am unhappy. I wasn't raised to affirm anyone's existence - I was barely raised at all. My children raised me backhandedly, and for them I became an increasingly constant thing. Which is good, and I like it for myself as well, that I can completely rely on waking up to the same person every morning. Me.
But. To the extent I was 'brought up' it was by my grandmother, who felt stuck all her life being exactly that, the rock, and who was not buried with my grandfather after 60 years of marriage - she wanted to at last try being single. Nobody else in my wide family read books about everything and everywhere, except her, and then me. She stoked my wild heart. The part of me that is restless and haughty. The petit nympho. The standoffish bitch. She often told me "get the fuck out of here, then get the fuck out of there too". That part of me is driving me halfcrazy now, at odds with the rest. Wantdog. Frustrated and whimsical and sometimes bitter and often impatient, seething beneath my known-quantity carefully-preserved identity.
And that is a dangerous state to be in for us constant types, the earth signs. You are ripe to be swept off your feet by someone who senses opportunity wherever they can find it and takes whatever they can from whomever they can. We court trouble this way.
If I don't get soothed soon, I will have to sell a house or some such. Chain myself to big chores that must be done so they supersede my heart for a spell.
