Paris, Love Me Love Me

Smergle

DEAR, DEAR Kim, June, Marie, rraine, prairie man, Eryl, parsnip, Susan, Mike, Mary, Ruth, Kirk, Dave, Jim and any readers who arrive later or missed yesterdays post:

Your words are so accepting and kind.  Kirk, I like how you describe my paranoia in terms of an alter ego. It is purely a construct of my mind, where I hold the conglomerate of my Jr. High Love, my mother, my children, a semi-stalker ex-admirer and sometimes Jesus - let’s call him Smergle (stalking merged looker). I do almost everything in terms of Him: dress, diet, exercise, perform in public (in which case I call him Seymour’s Fat Lady).

Sometimes when I read blogs, I become Smergle.  When I find bloggers I admire, I crawl inside every post, applaud their thoughts and gloat over how I think I identify with them better than anyone else.  It's a form of narcissism because what I admire is how much like me they think.  I totally feel like a creepy, hooded shadow figure who dares not leave regular comments for fear it will expose an unbalanced interest.

Sporadic encounters with a persistent admirer had a huge impact on my life, but I must say, for a while I missed the concentrated devotion when stalker moved on to a myriad of new victims. Sick, I know.  I’ve even berated subsequent suitors for their lack of obsession. Isn’t it always a delicate balance between obsession and romance?

This makes me wonder about myself online. I’ve taken the tests for Asberger’s Syndrome, Depression, ADD, Bipolar Disorder, Narcissism, Codependency and Neuroses. I fall somewhere on all of these scales. But hey,  Mary,  just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t really watching me, right?

Think about all the ways we’re watched: the cameras watching us at stoplights, malls, banks…. And there’s always the possibility that we’re being watched on the internet.  It takes a huge amount of energy to rise above the omniscient, glazed daze.

But I’ve decided to take comfort and guidance from the reaction that you had to my Wednesday post. I especially like what Ruth said,

“….maybe that letter gave you a lasting feeling of the promise of love and romance that kept you waiting, looking out the window, always opening your heart to loves’ possibilities.”

I’m going to concentrate on this. The people that know me, get me and encourage my eccentricities are that ones I choose to merge (along with a renewed sense of self) and hold in my psyche.  Thank you!

Someone Is Watching

 When I was fifteen, my first true love

 left a note on my bedroom window:

It said:Ever since then, I've had the nagging feeling someone is watching me.

By way of explanation, I would like to say:
"I haven't been posting lately because of my codependent need to read the latest posts of everyone on my sidebar list before I can expect you to read my latest post. This usually takes about 2 hours and causes anxiety that you didn't create. I feel a strong need to express myself without worrying about the impact I'm having or the expectation that either of us needs to comment. 

As I approach the age where the government is going to take on a big chunk of the burden of my health care costs, I'm working on letting go of several of my pathologies (OCD, Co-dependence,  anxiety) and just posting freely any nonsense that flows forth. I don't expect anyone to read. I just need to do it...

(a very round-about way of saying, "I feel like someone is watching me and I'm working on not caring)."