Big sigh
There’s been something bothering me for the past year or so. I’m not sure what to call it - cynicism? disillusionment? loneliness? exhaustion (the kind that creeps into your bones and your soul)? run-of-the-mill depression? - it could be any of those things alone or combined. It’s not an every day thing, but it certainly has colored my thoughts for a while. I try to stay as relentlessly upbeat and positive as I’ve always been and I usually succeed, but I must say - these days, it’s not as easy as it once was. The highs aren’t as high and the lows are lower. I thought the rule of getting older is that as you get wiser, you settle into your skin a bit more, reconcile yourself to yourself, and reach that happy place where you can love yourself despite faults pretty consistently. I seem to be getting further away from that place.
Every experience changes me in ways that are dictated by my reaction to it, and I’m not sure I’m changing for the better. It worries me.
See, I used to *love* people. All kinds of people, for all kinds of reasons both outlandish and practical. I used to go ga-ga over people. People used to be the most important thing in my life and I would bend over backwards to help them, impress them, brighten their days, surprise them, indulge them, entertain them, defend them… you name it, I did it. I was endlessly hopeful about the potential of people and almost dangerously willing to trust them again and again and again. I used to derive endless pleasure from random acts of kindness (or selfishness, depending on how you see it) and I had boundless energy for my people projects. These days … suffice to say it’s not the same. People don’t thrill me the way that they used to. It probably has nothing to do with people and everything to do with me, but I wonder where (and why?) I lost that. In some ways it’s a good thing, because to be perfectly honest sometimes I put myself out for people in ways that really hurt me - emotionally, financially, etc. - and probably hurt them too when the gestures were ill-timed, over-the-top, or unasked for. But in other ways, I really miss the me that loved to love people. I still have fleeting moments of that old enthusiasm, but more and more I find myself acting with my own interests in mind, sacrificing others’ gratification for my own, and struggling to muster the energy to even think about - much less do - those wild spontaneous gestures that used at least to channel my creativity into something outwardly focused. I am friendly, but I don’t warm to people as readily as I used to. I find it harder to remember little details about people’s lives. I probably don’t seem sincere because small talk bores the life out of me. Common ground doesn’t kindle instant friendship. The people I’ve loved in the past still hold their places in my heart, but I don’t have that overwhelming benevolence toward people that I used to.
It’s kind of a chicken-before-the-egg dilemma, because I’m not sure if I’m becoming this way because the Extravagantly Loving Me got sand kicked in her face too many times and has finally learned that there’s very little payoff to wearing her heart so obviously on her sleeve, or because I’ve structured my life in a way that allows me to indulge the Cynical Self-Sufficient Me. It’s probably a measure of both, because heaven knows the ELM has at least 5 tales of heartbreak and disappointment to show for every 1 true friend her extravagance has earned and living out of a suitcase/never staying in one place for longer than a few years for the past decade is hardly conducive to developing meaningful relationships. I’ve invested a great deal of energy in one-sided relationships (both out of stubbornness/stupidity on my part and the nature of most superficial or new acquaintances) and after a while, even my boundless energy was bound to run out. Haha. In terms of gestures of reciprocal love, daily quota of affection, and just every day support (lifelong friends and family totally excepted, because I know you would give me all those things if I were close enough to let you, and you do your darn best from oceans away), my engine is sputtering on empty.
I know that I need to take a step back and reinforce the most meaningful relationships that have the potential to refill my tank, but I’m not entirely sure that running on fumes at full speed for so long hasn’t caused some permanent damage. Or at least damage that must be repaired by a professional. I’m not sure I have enough left in me to pick myself up and do what I know I should do to make better decisions. Yes, here’s where everyone reading this says - dear GOD girl, just go to a THERAPIST and quit your bitching!
Well, this is a kind of therapy - just getting my thoughts out in words and putting them out there for feedback. If this doesn’t work, maybe I will. 2010 is my year for figuring shit out anyway and setting my sails for the course that will yield maximum fulfillment and happiness.
To be continued….
Every experience changes me in ways that are dictated by my reaction to it, and I’m not sure I’m changing for the better. It worries me.
See, I used to *love* people. All kinds of people, for all kinds of reasons both outlandish and practical. I used to go ga-ga over people. People used to be the most important thing in my life and I would bend over backwards to help them, impress them, brighten their days, surprise them, indulge them, entertain them, defend them… you name it, I did it. I was endlessly hopeful about the potential of people and almost dangerously willing to trust them again and again and again. I used to derive endless pleasure from random acts of kindness (or selfishness, depending on how you see it) and I had boundless energy for my people projects. These days … suffice to say it’s not the same. People don’t thrill me the way that they used to. It probably has nothing to do with people and everything to do with me, but I wonder where (and why?) I lost that. In some ways it’s a good thing, because to be perfectly honest sometimes I put myself out for people in ways that really hurt me - emotionally, financially, etc. - and probably hurt them too when the gestures were ill-timed, over-the-top, or unasked for. But in other ways, I really miss the me that loved to love people. I still have fleeting moments of that old enthusiasm, but more and more I find myself acting with my own interests in mind, sacrificing others’ gratification for my own, and struggling to muster the energy to even think about - much less do - those wild spontaneous gestures that used at least to channel my creativity into something outwardly focused. I am friendly, but I don’t warm to people as readily as I used to. I find it harder to remember little details about people’s lives. I probably don’t seem sincere because small talk bores the life out of me. Common ground doesn’t kindle instant friendship. The people I’ve loved in the past still hold their places in my heart, but I don’t have that overwhelming benevolence toward people that I used to.
It’s kind of a chicken-before-the-egg dilemma, because I’m not sure if I’m becoming this way because the Extravagantly Loving Me got sand kicked in her face too many times and has finally learned that there’s very little payoff to wearing her heart so obviously on her sleeve, or because I’ve structured my life in a way that allows me to indulge the Cynical Self-Sufficient Me. It’s probably a measure of both, because heaven knows the ELM has at least 5 tales of heartbreak and disappointment to show for every 1 true friend her extravagance has earned and living out of a suitcase/never staying in one place for longer than a few years for the past decade is hardly conducive to developing meaningful relationships. I’ve invested a great deal of energy in one-sided relationships (both out of stubbornness/stupidity on my part and the nature of most superficial or new acquaintances) and after a while, even my boundless energy was bound to run out. Haha. In terms of gestures of reciprocal love, daily quota of affection, and just every day support (lifelong friends and family totally excepted, because I know you would give me all those things if I were close enough to let you, and you do your darn best from oceans away), my engine is sputtering on empty.
I know that I need to take a step back and reinforce the most meaningful relationships that have the potential to refill my tank, but I’m not entirely sure that running on fumes at full speed for so long hasn’t caused some permanent damage. Or at least damage that must be repaired by a professional. I’m not sure I have enough left in me to pick myself up and do what I know I should do to make better decisions. Yes, here’s where everyone reading this says - dear GOD girl, just go to a THERAPIST and quit your bitching!
Well, this is a kind of therapy - just getting my thoughts out in words and putting them out there for feedback. If this doesn’t work, maybe I will. 2010 is my year for figuring shit out anyway and setting my sails for the course that will yield maximum fulfillment and happiness.
To be continued….