I have a lot of more interesting, less angsty posts coming down the pipe, but for some reason this came out first. I only thought it up a few minutes ago, but here I go. I guess there's something involving the immediacy of complicated emotions and a need to express them in some cathartic way which prevents me from procrastinating on more visceral posts like this. If only I could harness that power for some good...
Anyway, I actually have two different topics today. Each can be their own post, so that's what I'll do! I gotta get mileage out of my issues somehow, and this is the way I'm doin' it.
So, two recent events which made me feel.... weird:
1) A friend of mine told me some news the other day, about something which was somewhere in the vicinity of casual sex. Very minor, for all that, and something that I'm sure most everyone in college has done. And yet, my first reaction was... I still can't quite put my finger on it. There was some anger, and a little bit of disgust, and maybe a hint of sadness. All of these little pieces formed one big ball of some new, confusing emotional state, and it really threw me for a loop. I was trying to dissect it and, though I identified some of the component parts, it remained mostly a mystery - like trying to identify an alien metal (this happens in every superhero/sci-fi story everywhen). In the end I identified the feeling as discomfort, but being uncomfortable without knowing the reason why is a confusing and frustrating experience.
So I've been trying to figure out why, exactly, this news bothered me so much, when in reality it was precisely nothing - a blip on the radar, a cloud passing high overhead. I was having a tough time, so I reached out to one or two trusted friends - specifically the v. helpful Kim - to try and work through what exactly my problem was with this unproblematic news. And I think I got it! I think; there's really no way to know for sure, because our brains are all liars, but I think this is the reason:
I tend to be friends with a certain Type of person. We all have our Types that we naturally gravitate to, of course, and I am acquaintances with a lot of different Types of people. But real friends - the people we don't just get along with because we're placed together, but seek out even when we're not together - tend to be Types like me. And that's just the way things are.
Now, if you accept that assertion, it goes to follow that the opposite would be true: people wholly unlike those friendship Types are the kinds of people I'd rather not spend my free time with. Prrreeeetty easy, right? Except there's that whole middle area, where people are like A Type in some ways and B Type in others.
My friend (Steven) is like me in a lot of ways. And though we've hung out in-person on several occasions, we mostly talk online these days (it being summer). When talking about common interests, or daily events, or whatever, it's easy to fall into a comfortable rhythm. However, while I greatly enjoy Steven's company, I know that he is also another Type, one that I treat with indifference but find wholly perplexing. It's moments like this - when I hear some (slight) excitement about a brief and casual encounter - which remind me oh, hey, that's right, we're different. I don't really understand that side of him, and so when it crops up suddenly like that, it can be a bit jarring. It's like learning your best friend since preschool is a robot: in the end he's still your friend, and that part of him that's a robot is completely separate from your interactions 99% of the time. But sometimes he'll talk about having to go plug himself in or eat aluminum foil, and in that moment the reality you've convinced yourself of - that he's a guy just like you - is stripped away.
I think that's the source of my discomfort. I don't have a problem with that side of Steve, I really don't. I'm just not used to interacting with friends who do have that side, and when I'm reminded of it in casual conversation it's like missing a step. You trip a little bit, and regain your balance after a second, but it was still a scary moment. You're walking along and suddenly - "that's right, I'm mortal, I could really hurt myself here - okay I'm back on track I'm invincible *phew*." It's an unpleasant feeling. It yanks you back to reality, and reality is not a place you want to spend much time. It's a hint of his similarity to people I don't really enjoy spending time with, and that causes a bit of negative feedback, even though I've made peace with it the best I can.
Do you ever have those moments when you're talking to people? When they'll make a comment or do something and you're reminded of just how different you are from each other?
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Monday, August 17, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
The Little Man (or Woman)
I've been feeling better lately. Mentally, I mean. And physically, too, I guess, since I'm just getting over another Illness (always the same thing for the same duration). Mentally is the most important, though, and without going into much detail about it I'll just say that my head hasn't really been screwed on straight for the past two weeks or so.
Which is fine; we all have little breaks like that. Things can send us into a loop of regret, confusion, and self-flagellation. But what I found is it also leads to a lot of introspection, and self-evaluation, and if you can control that - and medication helps, absolutely - then you may come out of it a more balanced, mentally sound individual. I like to think that's what happened to me.
Of course that might be the crazy talking, though I haven't yet taken to peeling shrimp in my bathtub to prepare for the promised dolphin plague. And it may be short-lived; it's hard to know. I would like to send out a beam of good-vibes to my friends and family, most of whom have been very supportive during this ordeal. No, I don't really believe in beams or good-vibes or whatever battiness really positive people say, but hey, it's a way to express yourself when you can't think of anything else to say. So, again, thanks.
In the past two weeks I've really dug down deep to understand what's important to me. Strangely enough, the answer has been people. A surprise to be sure, as I'm not the biggest fan of people in general, and I tend to value my alone time extremely highly. I know how to make friends though - and keep friends, if I may say - and I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good friend in return, outside of my inability to drive and general pathetic state. When I say 'people,' I'm not talking about in general, because - like I said - I think most people are pretty garbage and can't stand to be around many various types of human being. But certain people - and I think they know who they are - I've come to care for deeply, in a variety of different ways.
Let me fill you in on a secret you likely already know: caring about people suuuuuuucks. It sucks! It leads to insecurity and jealousy and fear and embarrassment and weird bizarro-situations where you want to help someone but you can't. Or you want to listen to someone but you won't. Or - God forbid - you want to repay someone for all they've done, but they still won't let you in. These are things that happen with people you care about no matter how long you've cared about them - a week, a month, a year, ten years, your whole life - and every time it happens it makes that little man (or woman) inside squirm and whimper. Perhaps it's just a little whimper, or a small shriek in the darkness, but that darkness is your mind and it is big and cavernous and reverberates. The acoustics there... you don't even know.
I got to a place where I couldn't decide whether I could stand the noise anymore. Because it is easier - it is so much easier - to wall up that part of the cavern. Let the little man (or woman) scream himself hoarse in the black. So that's what I did, because I'm always a fan of the easy way out - even if the easy way out seems hard, because the hard way out is a million times worse. I know others who have made the same choice. I know people who are making that choice every day.
The problem, which is something that age has revealed to me in all of its twisted malformed glory, is that the shrieking doesn't stop. The cries and the throes don't cease, and in that small space they grow larger and larger until they start forming cracks in the wall. So you can build another wall; that's what I did. And another, and another, and another after that. Again, even this rebuilding is far easier than letting it loose, so you keep the little man (or woman), who at this point seems more like a monster than anything else, in its cave. It's a bit of work, but it's doable.
But the more you rebuild the wall, the more space the little monster gets. One day you notice that nice, quiet dark that you've valued for so long - let's say over ten years, why not - is much, much smaller. And it's no longer a comforting darkness, but a frightening one; you become trapped in your own mind; always wary of the next crack in the wall, always counting the remaining space. It can consume you, until you don't have energy left for anything else but repairs and measurements and worry.
And sometimes you decide to let the monster out, and sometimes it forces its way out, spitting on your best intentions to keep it restrained. It was a bit of both for me, this past year, and I can tell you truthfully that the tears in the wall from my side - the side that was just me sitting huddled in the dark - were much less painful than the fractures caused by the monster. Which, if nothing else, I think, is a good thing to learn.
Even now I'm not sure how I feel about the monster getting out. Actually, let me go back to using man (or woman); because when I met that part of myself again, I saw that it was not the monster I feared it was. I hadn't seen it in a very, very long time, and had convinced myself that it really was a monster. Why else would I have walled it up? Why else would it sound so horrible and cause such pain?
The answer is that the little man (or woman) is caring, and vulnerability, and legitimate concern for others. And every time he was hurt, I was hurt, and he and I were one and the same. But if you split him (or her) off and place him alone and wall him up, then he's not you anymore. But you're really not you anymore either. And I know this sounds really cliche and, well, probably stupid, but it's the truth. I was perfectly pleased with who I became - sans little man - and didn't really want him back. Like I said before, I had hit the wall a few times with a hammer, but I never committed to absolute demolition. Because those swings were painful.
So I still am not sure how to feel. It's all a little too new, and I am not a very smart man. The little man - manster? - is free now, and he's making up for lost time. I feel a lot of things that I didn't before. Sometimes I hate him for it, because a lot of what I feel is pain. Other times, though, I think maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it's good to be able to legitimately care, and feel, and not be constantly surrounded 24/7 by a shield of irony and sarcasm and bitterness. Or maybe the little man set free will cause me to fail out of school, or do something incredibly stupid and/or reckless, and regret not binding him tighter.
I really have no idea, and that is the absolute truth. It's not as safe with him running amok in the darkness now. I'm not as safe. But I also have a lot more room to think, and that has to be worth some pain.
Which is fine; we all have little breaks like that. Things can send us into a loop of regret, confusion, and self-flagellation. But what I found is it also leads to a lot of introspection, and self-evaluation, and if you can control that - and medication helps, absolutely - then you may come out of it a more balanced, mentally sound individual. I like to think that's what happened to me.
Of course that might be the crazy talking, though I haven't yet taken to peeling shrimp in my bathtub to prepare for the promised dolphin plague. And it may be short-lived; it's hard to know. I would like to send out a beam of good-vibes to my friends and family, most of whom have been very supportive during this ordeal. No, I don't really believe in beams or good-vibes or whatever battiness really positive people say, but hey, it's a way to express yourself when you can't think of anything else to say. So, again, thanks.
In the past two weeks I've really dug down deep to understand what's important to me. Strangely enough, the answer has been people. A surprise to be sure, as I'm not the biggest fan of people in general, and I tend to value my alone time extremely highly. I know how to make friends though - and keep friends, if I may say - and I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good friend in return, outside of my inability to drive and general pathetic state. When I say 'people,' I'm not talking about in general, because - like I said - I think most people are pretty garbage and can't stand to be around many various types of human being. But certain people - and I think they know who they are - I've come to care for deeply, in a variety of different ways.
Let me fill you in on a secret you likely already know: caring about people suuuuuuucks. It sucks! It leads to insecurity and jealousy and fear and embarrassment and weird bizarro-situations where you want to help someone but you can't. Or you want to listen to someone but you won't. Or - God forbid - you want to repay someone for all they've done, but they still won't let you in. These are things that happen with people you care about no matter how long you've cared about them - a week, a month, a year, ten years, your whole life - and every time it happens it makes that little man (or woman) inside squirm and whimper. Perhaps it's just a little whimper, or a small shriek in the darkness, but that darkness is your mind and it is big and cavernous and reverberates. The acoustics there... you don't even know.
I got to a place where I couldn't decide whether I could stand the noise anymore. Because it is easier - it is so much easier - to wall up that part of the cavern. Let the little man (or woman) scream himself hoarse in the black. So that's what I did, because I'm always a fan of the easy way out - even if the easy way out seems hard, because the hard way out is a million times worse. I know others who have made the same choice. I know people who are making that choice every day.
The problem, which is something that age has revealed to me in all of its twisted malformed glory, is that the shrieking doesn't stop. The cries and the throes don't cease, and in that small space they grow larger and larger until they start forming cracks in the wall. So you can build another wall; that's what I did. And another, and another, and another after that. Again, even this rebuilding is far easier than letting it loose, so you keep the little man (or woman), who at this point seems more like a monster than anything else, in its cave. It's a bit of work, but it's doable.
But the more you rebuild the wall, the more space the little monster gets. One day you notice that nice, quiet dark that you've valued for so long - let's say over ten years, why not - is much, much smaller. And it's no longer a comforting darkness, but a frightening one; you become trapped in your own mind; always wary of the next crack in the wall, always counting the remaining space. It can consume you, until you don't have energy left for anything else but repairs and measurements and worry.
And sometimes you decide to let the monster out, and sometimes it forces its way out, spitting on your best intentions to keep it restrained. It was a bit of both for me, this past year, and I can tell you truthfully that the tears in the wall from my side - the side that was just me sitting huddled in the dark - were much less painful than the fractures caused by the monster. Which, if nothing else, I think, is a good thing to learn.
Even now I'm not sure how I feel about the monster getting out. Actually, let me go back to using man (or woman); because when I met that part of myself again, I saw that it was not the monster I feared it was. I hadn't seen it in a very, very long time, and had convinced myself that it really was a monster. Why else would I have walled it up? Why else would it sound so horrible and cause such pain?
The answer is that the little man (or woman) is caring, and vulnerability, and legitimate concern for others. And every time he was hurt, I was hurt, and he and I were one and the same. But if you split him (or her) off and place him alone and wall him up, then he's not you anymore. But you're really not you anymore either. And I know this sounds really cliche and, well, probably stupid, but it's the truth. I was perfectly pleased with who I became - sans little man - and didn't really want him back. Like I said before, I had hit the wall a few times with a hammer, but I never committed to absolute demolition. Because those swings were painful.
So I still am not sure how to feel. It's all a little too new, and I am not a very smart man. The little man - manster? - is free now, and he's making up for lost time. I feel a lot of things that I didn't before. Sometimes I hate him for it, because a lot of what I feel is pain. Other times, though, I think maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it's good to be able to legitimately care, and feel, and not be constantly surrounded 24/7 by a shield of irony and sarcasm and bitterness. Or maybe the little man set free will cause me to fail out of school, or do something incredibly stupid and/or reckless, and regret not binding him tighter.
I really have no idea, and that is the absolute truth. It's not as safe with him running amok in the darkness now. I'm not as safe. But I also have a lot more room to think, and that has to be worth some pain.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)