I loved a boy

(A top secret and very pretty road at Powerscourt)

Yesterday I was talking about asking for what you want. That’s only the half of it, the second half of it. Before I ask for what I want I really have to know what it is. Right? So, in yesterday’s example, I wanted two hours writing. Simple, take the two hours, go off by yourself, come back when the time’s up, no need to ask for anything. Right? Well…

(The rock of Powerscourt)

In order to know that I wanted two hours writing (and then go off and get it) I had to own up to wanting it. When I was fourteen I liked a boy who was twelve. I kept it a secret from everyone. No self-respecting fourteen year old girl could want a twelve year-old for a boyfriend! The very idea! I couldn’t own up to wanting that!

Well… unless we own up to wanting what we want (no matter what anyone else thinks!)….. we’ll never get it. We’ll never voice it. We’ll never consider it. We’ll never ask for it. And throwing tantrums will be normal for us.

(Another old out-building)

Somewhere deep inside I seem to think that everyone thinks, wanting two hours of writing is silly and selfish and crazy and stupid and childish and wrong. No self-respecting adult would waste their time wanting such a thing. So I don’t own up to wanting it. Because of that I don’t even know I want it until I throw a tantrum to get it.

Is that what you want? Mairead.