In the last week, I’ve had to contend with a lot of bullshit all at once. It’s really made me feel weak and unable to cope, honestly. I don’t like feeling that way, either, because I’m supposed to be this strong bitch who can stand up to anything that’s thrown at me. Unfortunately, it’s just a part of how I feel and what I feel like I’ve been going through. And with all that in mind, it occurred to me that I should probably unburden myself. All I’m going to say is that if you don’t like what the hell you read, then just stop fucking reading it. I’m not interested in dealing with yet more bullshit on top of what I’m already dealing with.
When I choose my friends, both online and in real life, I tend to go for people who have similar emotional issues to myself. I’m not sure if this is the case with everyone else or if it’s just a little quirk that I, myself, have. I’d like to believe that I’m not the only person who ends up doing this (mostly because it makes more sense to me that others follow similar friend-finding patterns and then I won’t feel so lonely in all of this). Pretty much, I seem to look for the person who will understand my emotional turmoil because they have been through similar or they may, indeed, have actually experienced it as well. I also seem to find people who have more issues than I do. I don’t know if this is because my friend-finding patterns are set to “maximum” or if it’s just because I happen to have a look about me that says, Issues? Come on down! Let’s work on them together!
In all reality, I think I look for the people who are the most lost, whether they realize it or not. As examples, I have BFTX to hand. BFTX and I have been friends since we were both eleven years old. To say that she had issues is an understatement. Part of the reason the two of us became as close as we are/were was because we had such similar issues with abandonment and daddy issues. Later on, experiences that she had were mirrored in my life and vice versa. It was as though I were to meet up with her in an effort to work out my issues through her and she was to meet me to work out her issues through me. And even though the lesson may not be exactly learned or it’s lost in translation, the work has been started at the very least. Oft-times, I think the two of us fed off of each other in an effort to fix the overall: two halves of one coin, so to speak, which made it that much easier to work on the issues. If they’re the same, then what fixes her must fix me and vice versa, right? And even if I couldn’t make headway into the problem we were facing… there is always the need to help; to assist.
And that, I believe, is the strongest point to all of this.
I have this insane compulsion to help fix these people, possibly to help alleviate whatever fucked up shit is living in my head, but also to fix them. It’s like we’re living a symbiotic lifestyle of a sort. However, instead of having some Facehugger attach to your face long enough to impregnate you with a Chestburster, our lives aren’t quite so violently attached. (Not to mention, I’m pretty sure I’d remember being out of it for a few hours while that fucker knocked me up. Or, if not, someone would have said something by now.) Instead, we can pull away and ignore one another or live up each others’ butts if the need arises. In either case, it doesn’t really matter because the same, basic fact is the same: I need to help these people.
And that’s really a big fucking problem for me.
At the start of the month, I wrote an entry about the Spoon Metaphor. (After a lot of searching, I finally managed to come up with the actual Spoon Theory article that got this whole thing started almost exactly a year ago.) The reason I wrote this entry was because I had an epiphany after a minor spat between myself and another friend of mine (someone I’ve only met online but who I considered a teacher/friend of sorts). The two of us had been going back and forth for a while at that point, but due to other reasons I’m not interested in spelling out at the moment. This one, however, seemed to come out of left field as I was asking her a question that I merely wanted her input on. I was informed that she “didn’t have the answers” and that I should “seek answers elsewhere.” Obviously, I’m paraphrasing here since I don’t feel like recalling words said word-for-word, but the point is that she really hurt my feelings. It felt like she was lashing out at me for something that I didn’t know about or understand.
(Back story: She was in the middle of an argument with a mutual online friend of ours about something that mutual online friend of ours had posted on my spiritual blog.)
I was reaching out to this person and she was shoving me away. And I was utterly dismayed, hurt, and upset by the whole process. I remember sitting on the couch with tears in my eyes. I remember staring at my ancestral altar and saying, “Fine. Fuck you, too. I don’t need your help.” And in that instance, I suppose thanks is a bit necessary because I didn’t really need her help after all. The question I was asking was tossed out there because I was nervous and uncertain about something that I was attempting for the first time. And in that capacity, I should be grateful. However, the overwhelming hurt of being shunted aside because I was merely asking something has overrode the necessity of being grateful to her for that little bit. The fact that a friend of mine was lashing out at me, even if it wasn’t necessarily on purpose, was enough to make me dial it back and think seriously about how many spoons I had and how many I was giving away.
And that’s when I realized that amid the drain and amid the pain and amid the depression that I’ve been battling for months, I didn’t have enough spoons to get me through anymore. I had given them all away.
That friend of mine who was rude and snarky towards me had her husband message me. She was having a breakdown. She had a seizure. She was on bed rest. She was sorry for coming off that way. And I realized that the reason she was having a break down was because she had given away all of her spoons! It was another [smaller] epiphany about the whole situation. And it was in looking at it in that capacity that I realized that I could see passed what had come between us. It was in that moment when I realized that she wasn’t really being mean to me or trying to upset me, but that she was just having a spoonless breakdown.
And that’s when I really realized that I had to scale back my Mardi Gras Parade Float o’ Spoon Giving. I didn’t want to end up like my friend: stuck in bed after a major break down, fearful that a trip to the hospital would be on its way. I didn’t want to end up that way. I have a son, dogs, and a husband that depends on me. I couldn’t afford to have a break down. So, I avowed that I would be scaling back and that I would be ignoring anyone who wanted my damn spoons. They were mine. (That might sound selfish, but it’s important that spoons be given away sparingly. The allotment is only so big)
However, I have this insane compunction to help. So, even though I had decided that all of my damn spoons were my damn spoons and that people could just go and fuck off if they so much as looked at them wrong, I’m not really good about keeping up with that internal promise. Don’t get me wrong; I tried desperately to stay out of things so that no one could possibly ask about having one of my spoons. The thing is that I have all of these friends, both in real life and online, that are as fucked up as I am and as I’ve said, I just want to help; I just want to fix it for them. I want to wave that magic fucking wand and make it all better for them and for me, but mostly for them because maybe I don’t think that they deserve the horse pucky they’re dealing with. And besides, isn’t that what friends do? Isn’t that the whole point in being a friend, to help?
Yes. But not to the detriment of you.
About a week after my Spoon Metaphor posting, I ended up writing a rant-like blog entry because of said online friend. Earlier in the day, she was going on about something. I honestly don’t remember what it was and, as I’ve said, just because I decide something that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to stick with it. So, I was offering her some advice. I ended up telling her to remember the Spoon Metaphor and the whole point behind it. I reminded her that she had to keep her own fucking spoons, no matter what was going on.
She misinterpreted what I was saying.
I don’t think she ever actually understood the whole Spoon Metaphor thing that I had actually written about. In fact, it’s quite possible that she didn’t read my original Spoon Metaphor posting. I don’t know, but all I know is that she took the point to mean that I was telling her to shut her feelings off. I decided that it was in my best interest to let her go ranting on about it and stay out of it. She wasn’t going to listen to what I had to say. She might even interpret my back-pedaling as me trying to rectify a possible fight between us or some such shit. So, I shrugged it off and said, “Yeah, whatever.” It wasn’t worth the whole trying to explain the Spoon Theory to her or worth rectifying her misinterpretation. It was only hurting her; it wasn’t hurting me.
For a while, anyway.
I receive notifications in my inbox when people who I follow on WP update their blogs. So, when I received an update, I was pretty excited. I actually really enjoy reading other people’s journals: the opinions, experiences, and feelings are all very intriguing to me. So, I went to the blog in question and was thrilled to see that another friend of mine had finally updated their blog after a prolonged silence. It was exciting, except… the entry was about exactly what my online friend had been ranting about after I had spoken to her about following the Spoon Metaphor. And since the three of us are all friends, of a manner, I knew that the two of them had been discussing what I had said and had been discussing the misinterpretation that my online friend had been living under. And I was hurt. And I was angry. And I just wanted to blow up.
Instead, I ended up writing this blog entry. I suppose it could be considered a rant because it does have a general rant tone to it. However, it really wasn’t meant as a slap in the face or as a way to get back at anyone. It was just me letting out how I felt. I guess what really got to me was that I was being penalized (afterward) for writing how I felt and what I thought. I guess what really got to me was that I didn’t want to discuss the whole situation until I was calm, but that friend of mine kept pushing at me. She was victimizing herself before my eyes—maybe even forcing herself into another seizure—and I was supposed to just let it happen. And all because I had gone to my blog and used it for what it’s for: unburdening myself.
There’s nothing quite like being prodded and poked and made to feel guilty because you wrote how you feel. It’s almost like being made to feel guilty for falling in love or for being depressed. Sure, this happens. However, when I was upset and angry, I unleashed my emotions into a blog entry in an effort to get it all out so that it wouldn’t eat at me like everything else in my life seemed to be doing lately. And I was penalized for it.
In fact, I still feel penalized for it.
The girl who this entry has been entirely about has removed herself from the Internet. I’ve felt absolutely no desire to read other people’s blogs because I’m worried that I’ll find some entry about how much I suck or don’t understand what other people feel because I’ve “never been there.” I’ve thought about removing my Twitter account because that’s what started this whole bullshit mess in the first place. I’ve considered writing the girl an E-mail saying that I was sorry for voicing my opinion and explaining the point behind the above linked entry to begin with. In the end, all I’ve done all week-long has been to lay or sit on my butt and stare blankly. I’ve spent most of my time with my phone off with my butt attached to the couch while I’ve felt sorry for myself. And all because I used this journal for its purpose.
All I can say is that it really isn’t fair to me to make me feel this way. It really isn’t very fair that anyone would think that I was such a complete and utter fucking douchebag that I would tell them to just “shut off” their emotions. I’ve been on antidepressants before that made it so that I couldn’t feel and if anyone has heard the story behind that, then you know I would never say anything about anyone turning off their emotions or feeling too much. I think it really goes to show how much of a “friend” this person was to me that they would honestly believe that “shutting down” their emotions is exactly what the Spoon Metaphor is about. And of course, to talk about it to someone who I’m fairly close with and get the message even further off from its original point makes it that much worse.
After writing the rant-ish blog entry, a friend of mine said that sometimes fixing the misinterpretation isn’t so bad. She also said that if the person isn’t listening to the response, then walking away is the only thing that can be left to be done in order to save yourself. She also reminded me that this was a pretty big lesson in her search for Unconditional Love: that sometimes loving someone unconditionally meant that walking away was necessary. And I’ve thought about that, off and on, in the last week as I’ve lain pretty much somnambulant on my couch. I’ve thought about walking away and keeping my spoons and Unconditional Love. And I’ve decided that I’m more important than anyone else: I am the most important, in fact. And if walking away is what I have to do then that’s what I have to do.
I have the love and support of the people who I need and want it from. And that’s all that matters.
I end this with something that I received in my inbox the day that all of the final horseshit took place… There is perhaps no more empowering belief, Aubs, than understanding you’re always in control of how you feel. Similarly, understanding that just because you’re not always skipping through tulips with joy doesn’t mean that something’s wrong with you. A message from the universe… Even the Universe feels compelled to remind me that I may just be right now and again.