Image Desc: A black and white image of half of a face. The subjects eyes and forehead are obscured with black lace.
You know those days… you’re minding your own business and doing housework or working on a project when suddenly Anxiety, Depression or Misery grabs you by the shoulder, whispers (or yells) “Time For An Adventure” and whisks you off somewhere until you’re looking at the world through their veil, or up at a distant light from the pit they dug for you.
With all the triggering stuff going on in the world right now I am not surprised this happened to me. The news and how it’s presented is kinda violent for survivors, and I’ve had some unpleasant reactions to a bunch of it.
But DAMN do I want some kind of mechanism where I can get back up to that light, or out from under the veil, just as fast as they can swoop me down.
I feel like hell.
I swear, I think I have been bone-tired for 10 years.
Part of it is, of course, the 5 years of crazily bad health combined with “yes you STILL have mono” in the mid- to late aughts. Not good for a body to go through. But another part of it is emotional, because even when my body was (is?) a wreck, I was able to do a lot more than I do now.
It’s often frustrating – nay, almost infurating – when the articles and thinkpieces and memes on self-care and self-nurturance float through my screen. It’s frustrating because I’ve been struggling with how to refill my waaay depleted well of creative and emotional energy, and I swear I have tried everything that anyone has ever suggested that I had access to. More often than not they backfire on me. I’m left worse off: drained, or hurting, or feeling like something is sorely amiss, or at the worst…some memory resurrected in a really bad way. Even the ones that don’t backfire don’t do anything. Like, nothing.
It has gotten to the point where I really, truly believe there is the equivalent of sand in my mental and emotional gas tank. I don’t know what exactly the “sand” is, but dammit I am GOING to get to the bottom of this.
Uh. Pun not intended.
So I apologize for any weirdness. Chalk it up to the fact that my pistons are skipping.
Heart with Band-Aids
One of the more pernicious things I see in American – well, in Western culture is this idea that if a being loves you, any action they perform is immediately not abusive or not hurtful. Or is excused from any possible perception of harm.
Or even, if a being has no hate whatsoever in their heart for a group, their actions, whether inadvertent or deliberate, are acquitted from any possible wrongdoing or negative impact.
This is bullshit.
I’ll say it again – this is BULLSHIT.
Just because you love someone does not automatically mean you will never ever do anything shitty to them in your life. As a matter of fact, it might make you MORE likely to do something shitty to them because we humans have this instinct to protect the ones we love, and our current mechanisms of trying to protect each other are often REALLY crappy. (See: not letting kids have adventures because they might get hurt.)
And it goes from top to bottom – when I was really outspoken about my atheism I used to get a lot of “But God loves you” or “But Jesus loves you” pushed at me as a method of trying to get me to accept Christianity. I had a lot of angst about this one until I started responding with “well yeah, so does my father, but it doesn’t mean it’s healthy for me to interact with him.”
The lack of hate does not wipe out the fact that someone might be really hurt – even terribly endangered – by something you do. Even love does not wipe out the fact that someone might really be hurt or terribly endangered by something you do. And sometimes you have very good reasons for doing the thing and sometimes your reasons are… not so good. Or mistaken. Or based on data that is biased or invalid for this other person.
Don’t make the additional mistake of then telling that person that their pain is wrong, or that YOU are hurt by the fact that they are experiencing pain at all.
That is when the love starts going away. That’s when those who are hurt cannot believe in the love.