What a Baby

I’ve been complaining a lot lately. Not so much complaining, per se, but voicing my annoyances with my life out loud. Being sad is an emotion I understand internally, but have always expressed in a really weird way externally. I have tried really hard on multiple occasions to cry from sadness because I felt like I was supposed to. Of course I was devastated when my childhood dog was blindly running into walls and we finally made the call to put him down. However, I sat there on the floor, holding his paw, my eyes as dry as they’d ever been. The other day I finally went through my phone and started to clear out all of the photos of me and my ex husband. I didn’t shed a tear. Even when I made the decision to walk away from my marriage, to pack all my things and move in with friends, they’d linger in my doorway, awkwardly anticipating an emotional breakdown of some kind from me. But I never had one.

Oddly enough, I cry about all kinds of other things. I cried when the guy I liked made fun of my pancakes. I cried when I got lost on the way to a job interview. I cried when my Mary Kate and Ashley doll’s sweater didn’t button correctly.

I spent most of last week laying in my room with the blinds drawn, drinking wine from the bottle, waiting to cry. I was upset that I had lost my job, that my plans for the future were drawing closer than I had planned, that I was car-less, money-less, and just a general loser.

At this point, anyone who knows me has lost complete interest in this list of grievances because they are lame (the grievances, not the people). I’m aware that they are lame. I’m aware that they are fixable. I could easily still be celebrating my grad school success and not watching reruns of Will and Grace trying to cry like a normal sad person.

For whatever reason, my own body and mind won’t even allow me to victimize myself. I tried to express my concerns to a friend and I quickly began to grow irritated by the sound of my own voice. I didn’t even feel bad for myself anymore.

When you become so highly self aware, it’s nearly impossible to be a victim, because even you know WHY things are happening the way they are, and more importantly, WHAT to do about it. In terms of self care, I’ve done nothing. In terms of financial planning, less than nothing. I’m fortunate that I still have some friends and family that will tolerate me when I’m down, but trust me guys, I know…I need to get ahold of myself.

The truth is, I am sad. I will experience a deep, crushing sadness that takes over my frame multiple times a year- sometimes multiple times a day. I’d venture to guess that a lot of people who struggle with mental illness feel irritated by their own emotions, and that only makes said negative feelings stronger. Not knowing the root cause of pain, anxiety, exhaustion, stress is a personal hell I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But this time it’s different because I understand that my sadness- today- is simply caused by a lack of control. Things didn’t go my way.

As I continue to venture through this weird life, I must consistently remind myself of where my worth comes from. It comes from me. Not a car, not a job, not a bank account, not a boyfriend  or husband (or lack thereof).

My tear ducts may be totally disfunctional, but the rest of me isn’t…yet. Of course I’d love it if everyone babied me and told me how unfair life is, but I think we all know (myself included) that that is not the way to success. I want to be held, I want all the answers given to me in a gentle way, I want my toy’s accessories to work properly. Better yet, someone just fix everything for me!!!!!

For whatever reason- random chance or the universe in motion- this is the hand I was dealt this time. It’s tricky and it isn’t fun, but I’m capable. I always have been, and I always will be.


2 thoughts on “What a Baby

  1. It does suck when you are feeling things that make no sense and it sucks when people look at you with that quiet expectation that you will explain it to them. People just don’t seem to believe me when I tell them that I have no idea. Like they believe I’m keeping secrets from them. It is so frustrating!

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