Sunday night/Early Monday morning: Edited to bits sometime am MT
Oh, the things I have learned lately. Many many things. I have always said the day you stop learning should be the day you die, but my learning curves have been sharp angled and painful at times these days.
The state of happiness is actually nothing more than a decision, I have come to understand. A decision we have the ability to make for ourselves despite whatever might ail us. This is not to say that you have to clap your hands and go yay!!! when tragedy might strike. But the person you are outside of your tragedy is your own conscious choice. Unless of course you relish being your tragedy and living and breathing it in authentically. (I refuse to do this and have for a while now) But what point does that prove except that you are just a martyr, looking to project the misery you feel? I am not talking about pretending everything is hunky dory and fine when the shit hits the fan. But, you can definitely judge a big piece of someone’s character and emotional limitations by how they handle or face their difficult times and whether or not they decide to let themselves float back to to the top or let their misery define them and sink them. I have known more of the latter than the former and have let my butt sink down, but it’s probably just the company I have kept. My friends seem to have had a hard time, it seems, the girls and I, anyhow.
To me this is how I have remained sane, largely. I find humor in my bullshit, people I know understand that I am not one to get all morbid and morose when I speak of what happened to me. I am not even close to that at all, except I guess sometimes when I have projected my self-doubt in words on this little bloggity blog thing, which is ending soon, hence this very open discourse here. I laugh when I tell my story, and though I sometimes think this either takes people off guard or makes them assume I must be twisted, it is the only way that I have been able to cope and relate to those around me. You laugh, you smile and people will usually smile and laugh along with you, unless of course, they stink, then what’s the point of knowing them anyways?
I really don’t know. But I do know that when things fall apart, you are the only one capable of picking you back up and putting you back together. You might get some assistance, a few kind words, a smile or a laugh to keep it all moving along, but happiness is not this magic unicorn we all assume it to be. It is what we choose to be because the alternative is, well, miserable. And who wants to sit in their own misery and conflict and stew for more than a minute? I did off and on for like a month I think, which was about 29 days too long. I know I didn’t need to do that, and it wasn’t until I decided that being sad, depressed or lonely was sad depressing and lonely that I gave myself no other choice.
Did I meet someone who changed my perspective? Oh no, not exactly. I’m just getting reacquainted with me again after a much longer time away than I am comfortable admitting, to be honest. I never needed anyone, hell when I had them half the time I wanted to throw them right back. I am a hard set of blocks to fit, and you’d have to be real good to even get close. And the older I get, the more I realize that nobody is easy and carefree and relaxed and open anymore like I want them to be, but everyone does seem to have a closed sign riveted onto their hands and hearts and/or minds. That is the truth at my age largely in relationships: basically everyone has been run through the ringer enough that finding someone in the same chapter as you, let alone on the same page, is not going to happen except by coincidence and maybe only with a literal shitload of luck. It’s not to say I give up, because I don’t, but I am rejecting going out and actively needing it right now. It would be nice, sure, but needing it? No, not so much.
But, as I told E today–I am perfectly happy right now, because things are changing very fast every day. I am actually really really great doing my own thing on my own suddenly, joining every kind of group you can imagine, from the handcraft group to the writers group to the artists group to the entrepreneur’s group to the rec center I plan on joining in Wash Park, flitting around in my little dresses, drinking my drinks in bars meeting people, riding my bike in the park, and taking long, looping walks across the neighborhood. I put myself in all kinds of avenues to flip open the valves to the welI. I want to feel the life here in every way that exposes every possibility I have for my life.
Doing what I want except when kidnapped or stranded waiting for rides, which is literally maybe 10 hours a week at most? I am probably out of my goddamn mind.
It can feel like a lot when you want to be doing the things I have been doing. And I do complain about not having a car, and I tried very hard to win a scooter today at the fair, but I didn’t (dammit!) I love driving far and long distances in any place a car would be appropriate, and I am totally and completely strangled by my memories of driving all over the state, lost in the sky, driving through fields and mountains, something I need to do with my own car. I have such beautiful ideas about projects to complete along the way.
I am doing all of these things and I continue to get involved with more. I am going to find a hiking camping group or person or people and some other things to go get involved with at some point, but most of my business involvement has been getting involved with people actively involved as professions and supporting professional development like: artists groups, crafting groups and writing groups. And today I went to the People’s Fair and met some vendors who gave me instruction on how to get involved in the fairs. Forget you haters and doubters. I need you guys like I need another hole in my chest.
I know that what I am putting out there is good stuff, and someday someone or someones might hear my message and return the favor. But for now, that’s it. I am done being sad and mopey and, well, a jerk. Jerks spread strife. They like doing it because, well, I am not entirely sure why they do. I guess I did because I thought it legitimized my existence in some way to myself. If I wasn’t morbidly actively angry or emotional or upset, well how could I call myself alive after all I had been through? Right. Dumbest argument I ever made to myself even after the fact, ever. After all of that talk of the “expression of love is the only thing that matters, the people you meet will change your life blah bla blah” and all of the other things I would fill these pages up with was written, I then decide to douche out and turn into a mega depressing junkie complaining about getting to start over, start fresh. Do and make whatever person I want to present to the world here? That lucky girl is me. I left my life there, knowing very little of this city at the time I decided to move. And it really hasn’t failed to entertain, especially given my outdoor adventures as of late. Connecting with people has nothing to do with sitting in alone in your castle, waiting for the next thing to complain about. Lame, why didn’t any of you tell me? Jerks!
Say what? Say yes. I am over it, done. It’s not to say I might not get sad or morbid on rare occasion, but this notation should serve as a reminder for me, I hope. I was supposed to be dead so many times over now that sitting in any kind of depressed place is not where I want to even touch anymore. At all. You can be depressed when you are dead–there’s plenty of time to bother with those thoughts then Now, now it’s not worth it. But while you are alive–being happy is the one thing that will heal the wounds, laughing especially. There were maybe a few large expanses over the past few weeks that left me laugh-starved. If I don’t laugh at least a good percentage of every day, even in hindsight, I am failing me and my future health, because without laughter I would probably just wilt and die. Remove all reasons for laughter and I think that’s when hope dies.
My little brother and sister came over last night and started sharing stories about M, my birth father and little A, my youngest brother, now 12, as well as their own observations on things that were just so funny my face literally hurt from laughing so much. I think the years I dropped not laughing the past month or so were added right back on, they were just that hysterical. I kind of needed them a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t until very recently that I realized when I am the happiest is never because of a thing I got or won or whatever, but when I have chosen to be happy and have fulfilled the promise to myself to find any reason to smile and be aware of the importance of being positive. This is being positive and happy while also being alone and broke, essentially. Neither state can kill me, but my head full of doubt certainly can (and has come close at times).
Oh, yes, and on the workshop front. Well, let’s just say that if I were to repeat everything I heard over the past day regarding working for yourself, well, let’s just say you would probably find reason to either doubt me or resent me. The book in my possession, making a living without a job is really just where I want to be and where I need to go right now. Why on earth would I work for someone else with all of these goldmines in my head? I wouldn’t. But I am now way more afraid of not trying anymore than trying to assimilate into what people tell me I should do. Forget that. Forget you.
I wouldn’t get down on the angry phase, D…it’s quite understandable. I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all.
I can relate to the feeling of, why’d I let myself go there; there are years and opportunities I’ve lost to depression and lack of directon that I can never get back, and there wasn’t any doctor tellingg me that I couldn’t do it either. I have no excuses for the fact that I didn’t finish college except that I wasn’t strong or capable enough to do it. I guess it just has to be chalked up to part of my life story. I don’t want to weep over it any more, I am where I am. Blessedly where that is is a much more rational place, one where I can know that Rule One is I have to believe in myself.
My motivational level is still nowhere near where I could say that I’m satisfied with the scope of my productivity, and moreover there are many days the tide of negativity and nay-saying that pervades the public and private worlds are enough to wash out my dreams of creative success and respectability, but hey, it’s not small potatoes that despite those losses I am still here and life is still full of opportunities. So I guess the diligent approach, which is really the mature choice in my opinion, is going to be my anchor–as it seems is yours too, despite your self-effacing comments to the contrary about branching out and spreading your wings socially.
That said I’d be pretty furious a lot of the time if I were you, considering the limitations your life experiences have put on your ability to get out there tout de suite and slay the dragon; having to rely on external authorities that tell you this and that about your health, only to be disproved, yet still having to be a very grounding reality… on the other hand there is no better training in patience and resolve than to tell yourself that if you lived through that, you can find a way to get through this.
There’s a whole cult of “life sucks” that’s like a mudslide or a tarpit, and its littered with idle, disaffected people committed to their frustrations, who can stand strong with a leg anchored in the mire ushering in the newbies… it begs for strong people who are gentle at heart to throw their energy away and add to the heraldry of nihilism. After having been a pothead on and off for almost twenty years now, I find that so boring… I’d rather embrace the active, folkier side of my experimental heritage. I like adventures. I like making things. I like helping the planet. I like hugs.
I’m glad for both of us that we’re not giving up. Every step towards embracing a vision will only make you stronger.
Ah, see, but the anger does nothing to incite a positive end. In fact, at the end of the day I realize, oh, yeah, I’ve been angry, sure I have reason to be angry, so does that give me a right to be angry and expose everyone else to my strife? Maybe, maybe not. I have realized throughout this whole new getting to know me without anyone else involved part of my life that it’s really hard as hell to deal with someone who is not happy. People are not attracted to miserable people unless they are looking for inspiration of why they should not be miserable. And I am not talking about dudes or guys, because really who gives a crap about them always? I am talking about people you know and meet throughout your life.
It serves no purpose to sit here spouting about crap that doesn’t quite matter…it will never be your depression or misery that people will think highly of you for, but how you wrestled your demons and the positive example you serve now. Think about any people you know who have passed…nobody ever talks about depression except in the case of suicide–I’d prefer people were inspired rather than discouraged because I was raining on everyone’s parade all of the time.
As far as feeling vindicated or justified for being sad or whatever because of what my doctors said? Fuck them, they have been wrong more often than not, especially considering the very act of me being here at all was largely questioned and not even put into my head as a possibility after everything I had been put through over and over and over again. IF I listened to everyone who discouraged me or told me I could not, well, let’s just say I would be a pretty miserable lady and would probably have jumped off the highest cliff I could find (for the sensation of flying, see?).
I used to gravitate towards unhappy disaffected people because I thought we had stuff in common…until I realized, no, not so much. I am notorious for getting aggravated by having to be in the same place for longer than my little heart wanted, and that is enough reason for me to say, no, no, enough is enough with all of this.
Smiling disarms people, much as laughing does when discussing difficult experiences. It’s the best weapon any of us have at countering the detractors, the negativity, the difficulty we might encounter every day. I don’t and have never known any insane happy people, to be entirely honest. Maybe people assume they are insane to be so happy, but all in all, happiness is not usually affiliated with imbalance. I am righting myself up now so that I can continue to feel awesome every day….it’s been working so far.
Oh, Erin, I know how people sometimes treat you, given I have witnessed it myself. You just need to stand up for yourself, put your best foot forward and keep on keeping on no matter what anyone says. It is nice to be self-aware, and as long as you aren’t too cruel to yourself, everything usually does get better. And if it doesn’t, you are the only one with any power to make significant changes.
If I had come here and partnered up with someone right away, I definitely would not have been able to have this time with myself to really get to know me and what getting thrown out to the wind really would do. Sure, months ago I took myself to Canada to see how visiting a foreign country would turn out all by myself, which was a similar test I put me through, but this is a whole other animal, scary as hell. Sure, I have family I am just getting to trust and know…but all in all I am largely isolated. And I am good with that. And every day here is sunny and sweet and full of opportunity to be happy and smile. Amazing!!!
I think that smiling is a good strategy also because it is harder for people to resent a pretty girl when she is smiling…in my experience as someone who has been told that she is a pretty girl I find that, although at times it can be murderously difficult for several reasons, some of which you would laugh your pants off to hear, this seems to be an effective strategy for defusing a situation, and also for getting people to be able to ignore me and go peacefully on their ways through their own lives.
Talk about having issues…Deanna, help me!
Why should I care if people are put off by me? Oh yeah, because I have this desperate need to belong.
How silly…
Maybe it’s my size six shoes
I like your optimism about kind regards for a good show of effort to overcome demons 🙂
In my journey of growing up I have come across camps of stoners and chronic sociopaths who cheer those who champion misery, the literary term for the romantic strain of this philosophy is “Byronic” I think, after Lord Byron, who could really write but unfortunately perfected the art of loving his elusive mistress and singing the song of the resolutely isolated hero, accepting a frustrated fate and revelling in it. I used to think it was romantic, but I think just because I fell in with the wrong group of cool kids as a way of hiding the potential I found embarrassing and stigmatizing… people who are impressed by great shows of misanthropy are the people I was referring to with a foot stuck comfortably in the mire and I want to have as little interaction with them as possible
As far as people who are mean or cruel I’m past being injured or deterred by them
I ignore their snipes now
I’m over it
I know it’s just because they don’t want to know themselves