the philosophy of hurt

I can feel a crisis coming on, another soul-scrape on the approach. I don’t like it.

 

It’s always triggered by being treated less than human; by another person stonewalling me, making me second-guess what’s going on, making my brain go into overdrive trying to work out if I’m being played like a first class fiddle.

 

It’s the same situation over and over – when I’m made to realise I once again pinned my happiness on another. I can’t do that. None of us can. People let you down. It’s as certain as death and taxes. They may not mean to, but eventually it happens; whether they fuck you over, or die on you, they let you down.

 

I have to learn to rely on myself. Only I can make me happy. Why do I still let external situations affect me? All they do is place me right back in the same spot – the bottom of the hole, where I once again have to work like buggery to climb my way out of it.

 

I am sick to death of crying into my sleeves.

 

If only there was a way to remove the person from the acts they do to you, life would be so much simpler. There would be no more hurt, no more retaliation, none of this “you hurt me so much I’m going to hurt you back”.

 

It’s such an automated response; we all do it, and we might not even want to. I know I do when I’m too weak to have restraint. I hate that about me. I want to be able to put what the person’s done behind me, and just start rediscovering my own happiness. I don’t want all this focus on the hurt and anger and pain.

the philosophy of anger

This could have turned into a rant of epic proportions, full of evisceration, vituperation, and other long words that demand to be spat out onomatopoeically. Castration. Yes, it could have been filled with the essence of castration. But it won’t be.

 

Instead, I’m just going to write about what I’ve learnt. After all, this is meant to be where I sift through the shit that happens to me on the search for kernels of philosophy (pardon the imagery).

 

An online news blog turned ugly when the blogger decided to get down and dirty regarding the death of a friend. He saw nothing wrong with laughing at jokes made at the dead person’s expense. He tore the people who mourned her to shreds and offered up their remains to his faithful followers to finish off. A blaze of belittlement.

 

It made me recognise what humanity is, by its very absence.

 

The argument was put forth that why should someone who didn’t know the deceased “give a toss” about her death. For all he knew the person didn’t really die, and only pretended to die to see what kind of reaction they could get and now they were just sitting back laughing. That is so void of compassion it sucks the air out of my lungs.

 

I went to bed seething, absolutely seething. Rage really is red.

 

There’s no way to sleep when the body’s in full fight mode, so I tried to calm myself down by recognising what was happening in my body and brain – turning inward in order to turn off.

 

It suddenly struck me how hot the top of my head felt. It was so hot I pictured a flame sitting atop it, just like a candle.

 

That’s when I realised – rage and anger will just burn a person down like a candle until there’s nothing left but a waxy stub and a charred piece of wick.

 

I don’t want to become a wax puddle. Especially not over the uninformed ramblings of a so-called writer.

 

So now all he gets from me is my pity. He’s lost his humanity and god knows how a writer can write anything without that.

defectivity should be a word

So for those of you playing along at home, one man left me because he wanted to become a monk but ended up having fun with pretty things all over the world before hooking up with the wife of a mate and playing mummies and daddies.

 

Current plaything doesn't want to be with me but he does but he doesn’t in a ‘cake and eating it’ situation.

 

Now another ex who left me because he wanted to earn money and climb rocks instead of loving me has hooked up with someone else. To be fair, maybe he’s still earning money, who knows. Right now I don’t give a fuck.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not denying anyone long term happiness just because they couldn’t find it with me, what I’m fucking pissed off about is being told “it’s not you it’s me” or “it’s not you it’s because of this”, when clearly it IS me if it keeps happening to me this way. Why don’t these guys just call it how it is? “I’m over playing with you and now I want to play with someone else”.

 

I’ve worked out my next tattoo: the word ‘defective’ stamped on my arse.

 

Over the weekend I went to a funeral of a mate I knew through another ex, so of course he was there along with a few other mates I know through him. One mate said something interesting when speaking about my ex (interesting in that it fucking pissed me off because I hear it over and over again): “you were the best thing for him, the best thing to happen to him”. I nearly decked him. I bit his head off in any case. He was also trying to hit on me so who knows, maybe that was his way of making me feel awesome. It jut made me feel like a piece of shit.

 

Why do I keep finding these boys who hook up with me only to think it’s not what they want, break it off, then realise it was what they wanted after all? Jesus Christ men, get it together. I’m sick of being the trial version.

easter energy

I always forget that every day is the first day of the rest of my life. Today – Easter Sunday, I’m reminded, thanks to this tweet from @rashasman:

 

“Happy easter. For those not caring about the religious side we can take the 'new beginnings' message and run with that.”

 

I love it when the world brings me something right when I need it.

 

This long weekend has been spent in a sallow funk with my usual ‘why me’ whine as I wonder what I have to do in this world to get a break.

 

Today is the right time for my new beginning, painful as childbirth as it is. I need to do something different starting from now, because so far all I’ve managed to do is get bogged in the middle of the mud pond of life without knowing the secret of how to get to the other side. I’m sick of pulling myself through mud. It’s tiring and unproductive.

 

I’m not defective, not that awful to look at, don’t have any debilitating quirks that make people run screaming from me, I’m not mean, stuck up, or hard to handle. I’m open, wear my heart on my sleeve and take everyone as they are. So my new beginning for today is to let go of anything that makes me think otherwise.

 

World, I’ll no longer let you put me in situations where I’m taken for granted. I deserve more, and would rather frolic through this life alone than settle for less.

 

Yesterday I asked the world two questions: “do good men actually exist?” and “what next, world?”. In the middle of the night they were both answered by a chance meeting which gave me hope that something better is out there and sometime soon I’m going to find it. The world told me not to give up and I’m going to obey.

shampoo, cut and counsel

A funny thing happened to me on the weekend. I got a haircut.

 

Hairdressers, taxi drivers, bar keeps, all have one thing in common – they become our mini-therapists, an outlet for our ramblings. Only this time I listened while she unburdened, and it was nice.

 

She’s only a few years older than me, going through similar relationship problems, the same self-doubt, same race against the biological clock, same difficulty growing up and being nice to your body. All the same “why me”, “what else can go wrong” questions.

 

A great thing about spontaneous therapy sessions: it flows both ways. Both people benefit.

 

I’m not sure what she took from me, but I will take this piece of advice from her: you have to treat yourself as someone else you’ve been charged with the responsibility of caring for.

 

How many times will we drop everything for a friend in need, but when we’re the ones suffering, we brush it aside?

 

I’m totally guilty of neglecting myself and it’s one more thing my poor body has to deal with.  I need to be kinder to myself, feed me good food, take me for regular exercise, and make sure I have my play time. All things I don’t do.

 

I have to become my own observer and guide. I’ve spent too long looking outwards unsuccessfully trying to find some other person to take care of me.

 

So, here’s a thanks to random people we call strangers, but who are in fact close friends we didn’t know existed, here to help us on our journey.

price check on me please

I don’t know what I ever did to cupid to piss him off so much but that little cherub has been kicking my arse for way too long now. Time to stop.

 

Seriously, how much more bad love karma can I have?

 

I really am over being made to feel like a chump, hanging around purely for someone else’s amusement.

 

This week I hit the realisation that someone means more to me than I do to them. It’s not nice, and I’m doing everything I can to make sure that doesn’t turn into feeling totally powerless, deflated, deficient.

 

I belittle myself to put up with that. I sell myself short. I am worth more than that. I’m worth wooing, dammit.

 

A person is worth love. A person is not worth indifference.

 

So, cupid, you fat little s.o.b, cut me a little slack ok?

baby steps (or: my neighbours suck)

I started a new blog space yesterday which you can check out here, if you so desire. I consider it the hyde to my jekyll, in that I’m attempting to make it a space where only the happyjoy moments in my day make it through.

 

It may be a very sparse blog indeed.

 

I am compelled to try the positive thing though. For too long I have been feeding the awful horrible stressful painful moments of my life. It’s time to balance things out, refocus my eyes and see the other side.

 

This is day two. I’ve hit struggletown.

 

I’m tired, and I can’t go to sleep because the neighbours, the idiotic geriatric psychopathic turdfaces who really need to move the hell back to Koondoola or whatever other bogan hole they crawled out of, decided they suddenly wanted to listen to music very loudly, at 1130 at night. No, not until 1130 at night, from 1130 at night. God knows when they’ll decide to turn it off and go to bed. Midnight’s been and gone. Could be a while.

 

Thing is, I moved myself and my pillow out of my bedroom at the back of the house and onto the couch at the front of the house because they were out the back crapping on. With my positive bent I thought, ‘how exciting, breaking it up a bit, sleeping on the couch for the night! And yay, it’s so mild tonight I don’t even need a blanket’.

 

Now they’re pumping (shitarse) tunes in the lounge which shares a common wall with mine, while they sit out the back wasting perfectly good air that should be used for more worthwhile purposes than filling their lungs. Therefore, I can’t sleep anywhere in silence until they decide to shut the fuck up.

 

If someone hadn’t already started a fuck-my-life blog, I could have made a lot of money by now.

 

endrant. beginspin.

 

Every single situation has a seed of positive. What I’m trying to train myself to do with the new blog is notice the good seeds more. I know I’m going to have to be content with baby steps. I’m going to fall over on my face a lot. But at least I’m trying.

 

So, the good right now, right at this moment when my eyes are hanging out of my head and my own homespace is not my own, is that I’m writing. I started this blog to write, and haven’t done that for a while. This crappy situation has brought me back. Yays.

 

And it will be so fun at 6am tomorrow morning when I have to get up, to crank the drum and bass right next to their bedroom wall.

 

Oh yes, I think I’ll have a very positive grin on my face tomorrow morning.