I really hate talking about myself & how I feel. I hate even more doing it in writing. Sometime along after a few rose bellinis, I will tell you about my scar tissue surrounding putting matters of emotional import in writing. It's dumb & juvenile scar tissue, but it is mine nonetheless, & the fact that it was juvenile didn't make it hurt any less. Anyway, tonight, I'm just sort of buried in metaphysical bleakness, so I'm just going to primal scream it out into the morass of the interwebs. I will leave it out there in case someone finds it & groks where I'm coming from, you're not alone.
For the past several days, I've been feeling increasingly bleak. I don't know why. There's any number of possibilities given the state of the world & my own genetic tendencies to depression. Whatever. Tonight, I read a post from...someone that I value, even though they don't believe it, and it just triggered every bit of rage and hurt and frustration that I increasingly carry around with me. After reading it, I just felt like there was just no point. No point in trying to be kind or trying to walk a balanced path or trying to keep lines of communication open or...anything...because nothing that I do is going to be right. Even though I tell myself that though they have the 100% right to feel as they do, that doesn't make them 100% right...it doesn't stop me from feeling hurt and alone.
Hurt because I genuinely try to do the right thing and because I tried not to say hurtful things even if they were true. Hurt because it doesn't seem to matter if I tried to do what was right. The only thing that really matters is whether or not I went along with what the other person felt they needed. It seems like the only right thing to do as far as people are concerned is to agree with them, even if it means sacrificing my own judgment and beliefs and integrity. Because those don't really matter to others, they only matter to me. Sometimes the message seems to be that if I truly value a friend, I can only tell them exactly what they want to hear and nothing else. I can only be friends with who they approve. If I choose my friends from any outside their magic circle, my reasons or beliefs have no relevance. Only their judgments do. I really hate being rendered invisible and meaningless that way.
Alone. That's really the crux of it at the moment. I really do try to listen to others and to be there for them when they need it, even if I guess I'm not very good at it. The thing is, deep down, I have this certainty that no matter how hard I try to listen, no-one is really willing to do the same in return. It always becomes something about them & what they feel or what they are experiencing...and while I know that this is usually an attempt to connect and empathize, that doesn't stop it feeling like they just want to redirect to the more important topic...them. Then the cynicism that seems to be an integral part of my personality kicks in & I think, "Well, that's just reality. Most people just don't give much of a shit." I know that that's not really true, but sometimes it feels really exhausting to be the person that so many people turn to for their encouragement & inspiration & warm fuzzy moments & to genuinely feel like there is no-one that I can really turn to when I need to those things.
And then the inner voices that are really certain that I don't have anything all that serious to complain about and I should just suck it up & stop feeling sorry for myself chime in. Those really suck. I know that I'm pretty well off & that I occupy a position of privilege, that others suffer dramatically more under the hand of the current regime and on a daily basis. I get that...but does that mean that I don't get to hurt at all? I'm just going to sit here and feel sorry for myself for just a bit, ok? I hate that I live an hour and a half from my sweetie and can't just turn to him when I'm sad. I hate that I don't feel like I can tell him how I feel because either he will make it about him (with the best of intentions) or he will just feel sad and powerless himself I hate that I can't just curl up and cry without finding a million and one reasons why I don't have any right to feel sad.
I have to be willing to tell myself that regardless of who I am, I have the same right to my own emotions that I am willing to give to others. It's just hard.
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