10 November 2016

So now I am here, where do I begin?

Source: Rodrigo Basaure 2003 | Flickr

The moment that kicked me right in the abdomen today was when I noticed a woman listening in to me arguing and smirking to her amusement at what she was witnessing. I wasn't aware but when I noticed it hit me: I am making a fool of myself. So I took that into account and walked away and deep inside I realized that this is the point in time things have to change for the better.

I'm angry, hurt, irritable and messed up. All of this on the inside. And it's not that I can't deal with them, but I've been dealing with them by allowing the causes of these negative emotions to become a normal part of my life, which is just ridiculous. The causes I see everyday are the little things in life that suddenly never bother me when I realize that these things are not going to get themselves done on their own. I've been increasingly and undoubtedly relying on others, expecting, hoping, making efforts to negotiate and compromise... and all for what? To become disappointed in the end because I made that mistake -  I had expectations.

Expectations put pressure on people and things. If you expect a raw egg to not break when it falls to the ground then it's still not going to live up to your expections.

I realized, once again - not the first time to be punched in the teeth back into this reality - that the only thing that will get me out of this mess is to get the things I need to feel better again completely done (by) myself. What is the use of blaming others who you believed let you down? In their eyes, they have done everything they could to come to terms with you, or perhaps they have too much of their own problems to even care, but either way: it's not their fault. Never is. But I believe that which I believe because of the hurt and anger that sums up out of all the wreckage no one else but myself conjured. The madness has to stop.

So many things went wrong in the past couple of months which has cost me too much energy to ever mention them again even in thoughts. I wish I could let the people who have been through the same things know that I now know how they feel. But in the end I see them fighting alone and I see myself fighting alone... literally ignoring the life that is raging past me in order to be able to survive a rat race - tick-tock-tick-tock, get up, go to work, build up stress til late, come home, eat, sleep, rinse, repeat.
I already feel my heart stopping when I'm right in the middle of turning the shower off and dripping away around the shower curtain reaching for the towel.

But I am now here, in this situation.. in this kind of routine.. in this sort of.. pattern. Where do I fuckin' begin to sort it out without the help I have so clearly honestly asked for?
I realize that I can always ask for help... but it is not anyone's concern, whether or not related by blood, to answer. And in this delusional social world we all think we live in, we think we should be kind and through it we will be showered with kindness in return. Well no. I almost killed myself when I was just trying to help an absent-minded lady open the bus door so she could alight.
Kindness is overrated. It is a thankless piece of deed. Entirely thankless. Sometimes harmful to oneself. Mothers go through it. Their children, when they themselves grow up being brain-bludgeoned with the commandment, go through it. Teachers go through it. And what do they get in return?

I will remain to be kind - not that you'd start thinking I no longer believe in doing good. But I no longer be kind to expect karma to do its job three or sevenfold. It is a good deed and when it is done, it is done. Because to expect others to do the same just out of the norm is making me hold a grudge. Makes me angry. Especially at myself. Turns me into a negative, bitter, narcissistic psycho whose next wish is to rip heads off and steal souls, and that is the last thing I need right now.

Being a quiet person I am, most people think of me not only as reserved but also tranquil and calm. But after knowing me and after I warm up around people (which can take anything between 5 minutes and 5 years), I will become frank and when I hit, I hit hard. Because like other people, surprise, I have needs/thoughts/opinions too. And yes, I love to talk when I have the need to.. and I can talk a lot. And when I do then I really need to talk. Deep conversations, thorough discussions and weighing out possibilities are some of my favourite topics especially when there is a decision in front of me I deem important which I soon have to make.
But if I end up hurting others by opening up like that then I don't need to open up like that... or to them. Because that's just stupid. Stupid for me, stupid for them. Evitable like pregnancy in this day an age.

Which brings back to the real reason why I started journalling when I was 11 and why this blog is still active for 11 years now and counting - that one thing that never let me down was always my diary. I've seen it as an imaginary friend as a child. A partner as a young woman. And as I grow further into my adult years it's going to be my mentor. Self-reflection at its best. And putting it online for the world to see is fine with me... because this way I don't really have to talk to anybody - just to the ones who care to listen and to listen twice. Some respond, some don't. Which is fine. Even if it's just this blank page doing it all for me.
If in the end these thoughts turn from negative to inspiring, then I'd realize that I have dealt with a problem that could've made me lose my sanity in the best way I possibly can and in the way I know works best.

I was on auto-pilot for a long while now as though I would trust someone or something else to fly my plane. So hell no, I am switching back to manual from now on. If no one else will take responsibility then I will.
The only way to ever get things done around here. First thing on the list of things to do: pulling myself together.

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