About a Place Called The Pits

reality presents itself—
loud and unrelenting,
burdensome,
heavy,
but my pace remains steady
and I carry it all.

Not everything is fine and dandy all the time, which is just the way of the world, I suppose. There’s always a tension or a struggle that is front and center, whether moral, financial, health or relationship related, emotional, etc.

The truth of the matter is that nothing is ever really perfect, and although I try to take that into account on my day to day, I’m also human.

I get discouraged.

I get bummed out.

I doubt.

And when things get really bad, everything seems to devolve into a great, big vision of doom. The realism with which I usually view and make sense of the world turns on me, swiftly transforming itself into a deluge of negativity.

“I’m not good enough.”

“Things won’t get better.”

“No one cares.”

“It’s hopeless.”

“What’s the point?”

I make an effort not to dwell on these feelings for too long and fortunately, I’m always able to bounce back. However, sometimes I also wonder whether I’m just shrugging things off and sweeping them under the rug, like I’ve learned to do after years of persistent conditioning.

It’s times like these that prompt me to look back on my childhood and try to decipher the origins of specific behaviors.

Like, why do I feel the need to disguise how I really feel? Why do I insist on telling myself I’m okay when all of the evidence points to the contrary?

It’s weird. As a child who felt constantly accosted and hurt by people’s reactions towards me (i.e. staring, prying questions, pointing, laughing, etc.), I expended a lot of energy trying to prove to others (and perhaps, myself, to a large extent) that I was completely unaffected. So much so, in fact, that I still have a very difficult time acknowledging negative emotions and being honest with myself about how I truly feel at any given moment.

Now, that’s troubling for many reasons, but the real irony lies in the fact that you can’t constructively deal with things that you actively deny. It’s a catch-22 if I ever saw one.

Get it? It's an analogy.  Wow, I'm so clever!  (Source: metro.us)

Get it? It’s a metaphor for my feelings! Wow, I’m so clever! (and by that I mean I’m not). (Source: metro.us)

Maybe this is my way of trying to reconcile those inconsistencies and striving to be a little bit more honest with myself.

Or perhaps I feel guilty because I’ve been inadvertently snapping on people for no apparent reason these past couple of weeks.

As is almost always the case, I’m the last to read the memo.

My bad.

 

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