Tuesday, December 28, 2010

listen to me

Sometimes I feel demented for the things I write on this blog. I just think you should all know, that I know how weird it is. I know I've touched on this before in a prior post, but part of me being demented means I don't really remember yesterday. Anyway, its almost like the blog is emotional voyeurism: me hoping you randomly read what is in my head, and me never knowing really who is looking. Invigorating. However, I have recently decided that you guys who read this are actually the disturbed ones. My posts are usually some obscure weird thought that randomly pops in, or some kind of drunken rambling about "poor me" or something like that. Yet you keep coming back...curious...
Okay, so Christmas just happened. I'm not quite over it, it all happened so fast. I saw my family. It was like going into the twilight zone because hardly anyone I know knows my family, and they don't know anyone here. So I have one world I'm in all the time, and another world I'm in 3-6 days a year. Very strange. Was it a bad time? No, it was fine.
ANYway. So the whole point of me writing is to express something. I'm trying lately to be a better listener, and in that I am constantly noticing how people listen. Here's where I'm going...
I have somethings I want to express, but I feel like they are continually invalidated. For example, I have a lot of anxiety over family gatherings. Do I know why? yes yes, not the issue. Do I want to be over it? Uh, yes. So, when a family gathering approaches, someone will ask me "Are you looking forward to it?" And I'll say some thing like (depending on the person of course) "I'm looking forward to it, but I don't know how to talk to my mom, and every time she asks me personal questions I cringe, and I can't physically take when either of my parents touch me". If ever this has come out of my mouth (which isn't often) I get a response that most resembles "Oh, they're your parents! They just love you and want to know how you're doing! Its their job to worry!".
Really. I had no idea.
Here's the thing, I know that. I know. In fact, you telling me that only helps the guilty feeling I already have over the issue get bigger and bigger. People tend to identify with the parent, feeling very sorry for them, and wondering how on earth I could feel such a pathetic thing. Then I have more regret for even bringing them into my thought life.
My point: listening. If someone is telling you they have a fear or a paranoid delusion, or an obsessive irrational habit, the last thing they need is to hear how irrational that is, and that they are just paranoid. In fact, they probably already know. Sometimes you just need to get stuff out; to be accepted in your paranoid delusions. Then once you realize you're not totally crazy for being crazy, its almost like you're Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, and you find the way out yourself. The person who patiently listens is the good witch Glinda (yes, "Glinda", not "Glenda". Don't believe me? Google it.) and they simply reveal that you've had the ruby slippers on the whole time.
Okay, I have successfully forgotten what the hell I'm talking about.
Oh god. I really am crazy.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

.......................

Guess what.
Guess.
what.
guess what.