Navel-gazing, you’d think a person as neurotic and self-centered as me would be better at it.

Navel-gazing: it is a thing.

It is not a thing I’ve been doing lately. I’ve been avoiding thinking too much about the literal details of myself and the actual circumstances of my life at the present because painful things keep happening, and they catch me off balance and knock my wind out. It is safer to retreat to boobies and pop cultural references, lest I tip my hand and then They All Know that I am totally a fruitbasket and a half.

But I said I wanted to stop re-acting to crap when I started this journal, and pushing painful things away with jokes and beer is just as bad and reactive as my old habit of knee-jerk fleeing from problems. I need to confront all aspects of my life if this shit is going to work at all, right?, and regularly plumb even the deep-down icky depths of the self-audit I swore I’d be doing this year. Moreover, I think it’s possible that these things tend to surface whether you try to control them or not. Maybe worse when you do, even.

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