What Now?
I don't get mad often.
I mean, I'll make a show every once in a while, mock exasperation, but it's usually just that: entertainment for my friends. I get it off my chest with a laugh and it's gone.
However.
There are some deeper currents. I'm at the most solid place in my life that I've ever been--I have a fulfilling job, awesome friends and family who support me, a fun relationship, good health--which throws into focus the areas that continue to stagnate. I can't fathom the toxic junk that I've been holding onto, and for how long.
At this point, it's purely self-punishment. I ruined some relationships--friendships, screw-arounds, people who expected more or less from me than I wanted to give them--before I learned how to give myself. Or rather, that was my beginning. I'm still beginning. Because here's the kicker: I am currently in the midst of a seething rage at myself for allowing myself to be vulnerable. Vulnerable in the wrong ways, to the wrong people, or not vulnerable enough, to the right people. Especially the former, because pride. Especially the latter, because I'm trying to be good.
On the one hand, I like it. A cheap form of masochism, a slap in the face, a jolt to get me going. Shouldn't be surprising: I'm a runner, a nail-biter, a person who's not ashamed to slump on the floor and sob. I enjoy pain. But this has happened before, and the difference now is that I've tried everything. I've run miles and miles, inhaled the good and exhaled the bad, lay in soft poses, crossed things off with dark ink, gone red, bought dresses, read books, volunteered, given people presents for no reason, strummed loudly, sung badly, walked in the woods, seen old friends, been alone, drunk too much, ate too much, not enough, not enough, written a poem and thrown it away, breathed smoke, talked on the phone, walked in the dark.
The difference now is that my anger seeps into the lives around me, saddens them, cheapens their experience of me. Snap out of it, we all want to shout. It helps no one--not anymore. I've squeezed everything out of this anger and I still can't throw it away.
Which brings me to the question. My only question ever, really.
How do you let something go?
I mean, I'll make a show every once in a while, mock exasperation, but it's usually just that: entertainment for my friends. I get it off my chest with a laugh and it's gone.
However.
There are some deeper currents. I'm at the most solid place in my life that I've ever been--I have a fulfilling job, awesome friends and family who support me, a fun relationship, good health--which throws into focus the areas that continue to stagnate. I can't fathom the toxic junk that I've been holding onto, and for how long.
At this point, it's purely self-punishment. I ruined some relationships--friendships, screw-arounds, people who expected more or less from me than I wanted to give them--before I learned how to give myself. Or rather, that was my beginning. I'm still beginning. Because here's the kicker: I am currently in the midst of a seething rage at myself for allowing myself to be vulnerable. Vulnerable in the wrong ways, to the wrong people, or not vulnerable enough, to the right people. Especially the former, because pride. Especially the latter, because I'm trying to be good.
On the one hand, I like it. A cheap form of masochism, a slap in the face, a jolt to get me going. Shouldn't be surprising: I'm a runner, a nail-biter, a person who's not ashamed to slump on the floor and sob. I enjoy pain. But this has happened before, and the difference now is that I've tried everything. I've run miles and miles, inhaled the good and exhaled the bad, lay in soft poses, crossed things off with dark ink, gone red, bought dresses, read books, volunteered, given people presents for no reason, strummed loudly, sung badly, walked in the woods, seen old friends, been alone, drunk too much, ate too much, not enough, not enough, written a poem and thrown it away, breathed smoke, talked on the phone, walked in the dark.
The difference now is that my anger seeps into the lives around me, saddens them, cheapens their experience of me. Snap out of it, we all want to shout. It helps no one--not anymore. I've squeezed everything out of this anger and I still can't throw it away.
Which brings me to the question. My only question ever, really.
How do you let something go?
Comments
Post a Comment