Why aren’t I blogging? I don’t know. A few reasons, maybe. One: I’m torn between the desire to make this my outlet for angst/melancholy and the desire to write things people might actually have an interest in reading. I think I’ve decided to just resign to the former. It’s not that I’m always miserable and cantankerous, it’s that that’s the kind of stuff I like to work out with written words. So I’m just going to accept that and not fight it anymore. Two: I feel like I am constantly saying the same things. Three: I don’t know. There’s no three I guess.
So. Firstly: I fucked up a tendon in my foot and am hobbling around like a gimp. It takes me a ridiculous amount of time to get anywhere because I have to walk at a snail’s pace so I can endure the pain. It’s really depressing. I can’t run and am thus forfeiting an integral component in maintaining sanity. I just feel lazy, fat, weak, restless. Running is a mechanism of control for me. I need it! It’s stable, constant; something for me to hold on to when the wind starts to blow. I can set goals and then reach them and then improve and then repeat. Progress is measureable. It’s so simple and pure and one of the only things that doesn’t feel fucked and muddled. I just started training for a half marathon and now that plan is on hold indefinitely. I’m so frustrated. Broken. Soul, meet body.
What else? Thanksgiving. Hm. Yea. I wish I had one of those families where everyone thinks everyone else is super awesome and everyone is psyched to hang out together and drink, eat, laugh, laugh. But, no. No one drinks, like really drinks, as in more than sips one glass of wine/champagne for 2-3 hours, except one sister and her husband. Sister’s knocked up with 2 so she’s out of the game, leaving only Al and me as those who like to have fun. I brought a roommate home which helped strengthen our numbers a bit. And there is not a whole lot of laughing. I guess we do alright on the eating part. Other than that there was annoying, endless ogling/jockeying for attention of Niece who I got to play with for maybe 30 seconds because Aunt would not put her down for A SECOND. Aunt also ripped into my haircut for a solid 5 minutes which was awkward and fun. I just don’t understand why any pretty, young girl would cut their hair short like that. Uhm, yea. Later, she repeatedly tried to force feed me desserts for an hour.
Interactions with Mom and Dad were the usual. They bickered over when to take the turkey out. Dad, who knows everything--like really, even about things he knows nothing about, it’s sort of amazing—insisted the turkey was done when it, of course, was not. Mom was stressed and overworked. She still treats me like I’m 12; Dad either ignores me or gets angry at me for meaningless shit, probably stemming from frustration over the fact that he does not know or understand me AT ALL. I try to keep any conversation about “me” to a minimum because it is inevitably unsatisfactory for everyone involved. Maybe that’s not fair of me, but oh well, a lot of things aren’t fair. For example: how all the fucked up, adulterous shit he pulled throughout my childhood has created major ISSUES for me in adulthood. So there’s that.
I so often feel like so much of it is a façade and that we all sit there and smile but we are strangers. Strangers bound by blood and shared memories. I’m not saying it’s their fault, no. I don’t know who to blame. Everyone. No one. Me? Maybe. We don’t even like each other all that much is the thing. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t like me, either. I can’t seem to help but be anything but the worst version of myself in front of them. Being in their house makes me anxious. It’s like this closed off sphere where negativity, hostility and judgment just bounce around inside like crazy charged particles. It usually takes about 5 minutes for me to feel the urge to duck and hide.
Complaining on here makes me feel guilty. Like, what the hell do you have to complain about, you are fortunate in so many ways. And I am! And I know that. But this is my forum and I am telling one side of a story—no--one side of one side of a story. I write down some thoughts and feelings here, but I don’t write down all of them. (There are good things happening/that have happened, too. I just don’t want to write about them here. I speak about them. I live them.) My point is that there will always be people far worse off but we are all experiencing frustration, hardships, pain. It’s important to keep things in perspective, sure. Today I’ve heard and read about awful things happening to people I know/sort of know/don’t know at all that are far, far worse than anything I've vented on this blog.
I think that every situation is so relative and so dependent upon an infinite number of factors that it is pretty much impossible to ever completely understand exactly how someone is feeling when fucked up shit happens or even when they are just beaten down by the day to day. “Experience” is completely unique and personal. I think the best any of us can hope for is some empathy and a modicum of understanding. Life is fucked up for all of us at times—or always, maybe—in varying degrees of magnitude and consequence.
So. Firstly: I fucked up a tendon in my foot and am hobbling around like a gimp. It takes me a ridiculous amount of time to get anywhere because I have to walk at a snail’s pace so I can endure the pain. It’s really depressing. I can’t run and am thus forfeiting an integral component in maintaining sanity. I just feel lazy, fat, weak, restless. Running is a mechanism of control for me. I need it! It’s stable, constant; something for me to hold on to when the wind starts to blow. I can set goals and then reach them and then improve and then repeat. Progress is measureable. It’s so simple and pure and one of the only things that doesn’t feel fucked and muddled. I just started training for a half marathon and now that plan is on hold indefinitely. I’m so frustrated. Broken. Soul, meet body.
What else? Thanksgiving. Hm. Yea. I wish I had one of those families where everyone thinks everyone else is super awesome and everyone is psyched to hang out together and drink, eat, laugh, laugh. But, no. No one drinks, like really drinks, as in more than sips one glass of wine/champagne for 2-3 hours, except one sister and her husband. Sister’s knocked up with 2 so she’s out of the game, leaving only Al and me as those who like to have fun. I brought a roommate home which helped strengthen our numbers a bit. And there is not a whole lot of laughing. I guess we do alright on the eating part. Other than that there was annoying, endless ogling/jockeying for attention of Niece who I got to play with for maybe 30 seconds because Aunt would not put her down for A SECOND. Aunt also ripped into my haircut for a solid 5 minutes which was awkward and fun. I just don’t understand why any pretty, young girl would cut their hair short like that. Uhm, yea. Later, she repeatedly tried to force feed me desserts for an hour.
Interactions with Mom and Dad were the usual. They bickered over when to take the turkey out. Dad, who knows everything--like really, even about things he knows nothing about, it’s sort of amazing—insisted the turkey was done when it, of course, was not. Mom was stressed and overworked. She still treats me like I’m 12; Dad either ignores me or gets angry at me for meaningless shit, probably stemming from frustration over the fact that he does not know or understand me AT ALL. I try to keep any conversation about “me” to a minimum because it is inevitably unsatisfactory for everyone involved. Maybe that’s not fair of me, but oh well, a lot of things aren’t fair. For example: how all the fucked up, adulterous shit he pulled throughout my childhood has created major ISSUES for me in adulthood. So there’s that.
I so often feel like so much of it is a façade and that we all sit there and smile but we are strangers. Strangers bound by blood and shared memories. I’m not saying it’s their fault, no. I don’t know who to blame. Everyone. No one. Me? Maybe. We don’t even like each other all that much is the thing. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t like me, either. I can’t seem to help but be anything but the worst version of myself in front of them. Being in their house makes me anxious. It’s like this closed off sphere where negativity, hostility and judgment just bounce around inside like crazy charged particles. It usually takes about 5 minutes for me to feel the urge to duck and hide.
Complaining on here makes me feel guilty. Like, what the hell do you have to complain about, you are fortunate in so many ways. And I am! And I know that. But this is my forum and I am telling one side of a story—no--one side of one side of a story. I write down some thoughts and feelings here, but I don’t write down all of them. (There are good things happening/that have happened, too. I just don’t want to write about them here. I speak about them. I live them.) My point is that there will always be people far worse off but we are all experiencing frustration, hardships, pain. It’s important to keep things in perspective, sure. Today I’ve heard and read about awful things happening to people I know/sort of know/don’t know at all that are far, far worse than anything I've vented on this blog.
I think that every situation is so relative and so dependent upon an infinite number of factors that it is pretty much impossible to ever completely understand exactly how someone is feeling when fucked up shit happens or even when they are just beaten down by the day to day. “Experience” is completely unique and personal. I think the best any of us can hope for is some empathy and a modicum of understanding. Life is fucked up for all of us at times—or always, maybe—in varying degrees of magnitude and consequence.
5 comments:
I'm so glad you started blogging again. I think your outlet for angst and piece that people would be interested in reading may be the same thing, if that makes sense.
Those families you described made me laugh, the super-awesome ones, they are so unfamiliar to me. My family and I are strangers too. It's totally their fault, but I'm just too lazy to blame them.
Hm, hadn't thought of that. A potential win-win.
Yea, family. I just wish everyone could cut through all the bullshit and speak the truth and be honest with each other. Growing up I learned to be private and not air "dirty laundry" and conceal flaws and God, now as an adult I just realize how stifling that is. We aren't perfect! So?!
You're right - you are the worst version of yourself around the family. You revert back to a bratty 16 yr old. Any interest they show in you is shut down quickly, and you can't even feign interest in anyone else.
I wish they could see the Diana I get to see, and I wish you wouldn't focus only on their flaws. No, they're not perfect, but they're not the monsters you've created either. You need to learn to accept them for who they are - they've been good supportive generous parents, and they want to see you happy. You're quick to turn to them when you want expensive gifts, parties at their house and a car to borrow - its past time to start giving back a little.
ps: I always used to write in my journals (back in the olden pre-blog days) when I was upset or mad or sad, so I understand why you're inclined towards the more melancholy here. In that case, I'll look forward to your absences rather than bug you for new material.
I don't think your assessment of the situation is entirely fair. I don't only focus on their flaws and I certainly don't think them monsters. As i said, this is one side of a story. I know the other side too. But that's not the troubling side now is it?
Rah, there's just too much going on here for me to capture it all in this comment. Let me just end by saying that you have a completely different perspective, for a number of reasons, and that is maybe in part because they fucked you up less than they did me.
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