I'll follow you into the dark

Rachael is blaring this song which always makes me nostalgic for college, France, early days in SF. I had a realization tonight that I don't know how to accept praise or affirmation, as much as I love it. I'm trying to believe the idea that I'm worthy of compliments, that other people love me. So far, I've come to terms with God's love for me and subsisting on that. It seems like every time I assume that other people are going to affirm me, I'm disappointed. I would rather not count on it than be heartbroken, craving something I'm never going to receive.
Dan, a close friend and YUTES leader, made me think about the way that I view myself. If I can't even believe what he tells me to be true, that I'm amazing, not necessarily worthy of being loved (because none of us are). I don't have to seek boys out, they will be lucky one day to come to me because of how great I am. In the society in which we live, in the times of failing in my attempts to have a relationship, in my life of running around from one thing to the next, I find having a relationship impossible. I don't even have enough time to check my email these days, let alone respond.
I tried to give up, surrender today, as I was sorting markers into organizers. I was frustrated with not feeling valued by the new teacher whose taken on Deirdre's maternity leave. Everything I did today she re-did in her own way. I spent too much of the school's money yesterday on supplies for the room. I missed the meeting for the first grade teachers because no one told me what time it was at. I struggled being neutral, not complaining, not being dramatic about my situation at school. I have a job, I like my classes which will enhance my work life. I am inspired by my classmates, who can understand where I'm coming from. I want to get to know them, to share our exhaustion and frustrations together.
This new schedule of class and school has me feeling overwhelmed, but it's given me less time to dwell on self-pity and negativity. I don't consider myself a writer, since I told the beatniks tonight at the Divisadero Art Walk that I didn't think I could write the first line of a story for others to continue. It helps me process things, once again feel the twinges of the feelings I had while writing that post. Live in the now, even if I am headed to the darkness.