I realized a bit during my recent writing hiatus, such things as…. drinking milk (even chocolate) makes me feel as if i ate a dozen fat people featured on PeopleOfWalmart.com, and also…… the human condition is meant to be solitary…kind of.
I have been going through a few hiccups of life. To be honest, I should have been prepared much better than I am, but I never said I was an adept at the art of living life. I noticed that the more I began spiraling down my melancholy little hole, the more I became distant from people around me. The thing I noticed this time is people becoming distant from me as well. Like we had an unspoken mutual agreement that I wouldn’t bum them out with my sad state, while they agreed to not be around to witness me in less than stellar condition. That explanation is too confusing….
It was as if a friend walked into a bathroom I was taking a painful, mortifying dump in, and rather than hang around watching me in my state of weakness…they left the area until said dump was decidedly finished.
This is a very apt description of life. I am not saying it is the best choice to make from an emotional point of view, but it is understandable. It basically (and literally, in the analogy) means you be left to deal with your own shit! That my friends is life.
I don’t know if that is a pessimistic idea, or not.
I do know that I did get shamed a few times for posting depressing status updates on Facebook. That was the first sign I was hitting a rough patch. When someone tells you in person you are bringing the mood down on fucking social media…lol…you know you gotta figure out some things.
I had a moment where I had some pretty decent rage about no one being around during my personal breakdown. As a reflex I started attempting to be even more “there” for people in my life. As if I could adjust my karma enough so I could bitch & moan to someone eventually. What I realized is this…maybe those who hid from me were right?
Maybe, just maybe, the best solution wasn’t building a grass-roots support group to pump me up until I got my shit together. Maybe my time would be better spent first getting my shit together, then I could bypass the need to make a support group. Unless it was a group to physically support me while I pulled my own above average size head out of my anus.
I still have that tiny little voice in my head saying “People need a community! People need a village! People need to lift each other up!” I have come to the conclusion this is mainly bullshit! The only thing I have wanted in the times I have been dealing with all my challenges is people to genuinely ask how I am doing. Most likely I will respond with an “okay”, “alright”, or “Bleh!” I think it is because we just want to know people worry…not that we want people to pull us up out of the muck.
As far as the other realizations I have had…
I crave chocolate milk like crack. Yet, when I drink it I feel as if an alien is trying to burst from my abdomen! It is like the virginal girl who dreams of a princess wedding, but still insists on banging carnival folk face down on a crusty burlap potato sack.
Also, my apparent anger at life itself has cured me of most of my anxiety issues. I haven’t had an anxiety attack for months now. I have had bouts of rage, but I can’t do much because of that damned milk coma I am in.
Nothing makes a mopey heart feel good like inspirational pictures with words on them. Apparently deep down in my soul I am a twelve year old girl listening to One Direction while weeping openly.
I also realized I used to bottle things up, and maybe that is for the best. No matter how often someone listens to your whimpering words they can’t care more than a tiny bit, because they got their own shit to deal with.
So, whether I am toothless, homeless, loveless, emotionless, or pants-less. I am gonna stop talking about it, because AINT NOBODY GOT TIME FO’ DAT!!!!!!