When your heart aches there are plenty of solutions. You can eat it away by stuffing your face till you fall into a blissfully full food coma. Some decide to drown themselves in work and school. Others may decide to block it out and perhaps even successfully ignore these feelings. We all have our vices. And yet these techniques leave us still feeling those pangs of heartache. Sadly, I’ve tried all of these methods and have again failed to stop that numbing pain in the pit of my stomach. If we already know that these techniques can only leave us feeling the same if not worse off, why do we keep forging on, trying to temporarily end and perhaps maybe even induce more pain?
It was seriously such a little thing. It’s not even that big of a deal, but again it’s me we’re talking about. This afternoon I decided to call him to just talk and see what was up. He hasn’t returned my phone call. Wonderkin. And yet, he goes off gallivanting with my friend for drinks. Okay, not a big deal right? But why do I feel so rejected again. Something about being rejected that creates this black vortex inside my stomach. It just doesn’t sit well. I was already feeling kinda blah but I was improving. But these little things just blow up in my face. I think it’s so interesting that such small details can trigger such a torrent of emotions and insecurities. I mean, you could be sitting in a car, and hear a song on the radio and just begin to burst out into tears. Something about that song that just draws out the crap that we were trying so hard to suppress.
I deal with my (wo)manly problems by watching chick flicks and drowning myself in girly TV shows and music. This usually works. The hurting and dull pain kinda numbs away. But all that’s left is just that—numbness. I was sitting in front of my computer watching Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle trying to identify with these character, and clearly failed. Then I tried the good ole classic Sex in The City, and have yet to feel the pain ebb away.
Jumping in the shower, I was hoping to at least get cleaned up so I can go to bed. I was soaping up and cleaning myself as thoroughly as possible. I’m not sure if it was the water drumming down on me, or a mixture of the heat and mist but I just couldn’t get clean. I was scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing. I just didn’t feel clean. I think I rubbed some skin off on my torso and legs. Eventually I just sat down in the shower and just stopped. I just couldn't’. I felt the water run down my face and wanted to cry. I tried really hard but I just couldn't’. I couldn’t express the frustration and restlessness. I wanted to much to feel tears streaming down my face, and I just couldn't cry. Instead I was left feeling empty and humiliated by the effort.
The face on Mars, spontaneous human combustion, UFO sightings are not the most mysterious things that humans have to face. I think that heart matters are the most mystifying things about humans. We let little, meaningless details take over our lives. Some of us learn how to brush those aside, yet the majority of us are left in the wake of its destruction. Our vices, our methods of making ourselves feel better whether they be eating through the pain or numbing ourselves through Hollywood is a way to punish ourselves for letting these trivial matters affect us so much. Sure we hope that these techniques make us feel better temporarily, but in the end, we still know that we’re going to end up exactly how we started: alone and still feeling that dull pain. I mean isn’t feeling bad punishment enough? Why do we continue to keep poking around the wound? Why are we so masochistic? Our emotions make us do crazy things, but perhaps punishing ourselves is the most practical tool at our disposal. It is only when we feel enough pain that we can continue. It’s only when we feel bad enough can we decide to pick ourselves off the ground and start living again.
And it sucks. It sucks hard.
When we’re down there it feels like the world has blurred and we want to just melt into the scenery, never having to face it again. But life isn’t that good. We still have to function and reintegrate into the world. And it’s hard. It’s hard to get back on your feet. I don’t want to feel like this any more, but I try to keep telling myself thing will pick up. They have to. In the meantime, the fight in my head to suppress these negative feelings isn’t doing so hot. I just don't like feeling like this.
I can’t wait till this ends. I’m ready for the end.
Post a Comment