Today, I rambled on about my strange and tragic life.
It’s a subject that has been on my mind a lot lately and so I thought it was time to express some of the emotions involved and see if that made me feel better.
And it did, actually. I feel better now. Yay catharsis. It’s good for me to get those negative emotions out from time to time in order to make room for healing.
So much of our mental anguish comes from all the unexpressed emotions we carry around with us.
I am striving to change that about myself. I know that a big part of my self-resurrection is going to have to be learning to actually deal with my emotions, including the really tricky and troubling ones like anger, instead of more or less consigning everything but that narrow band I previously found comfortable to the void of forgetting.
This will make life far more complicated. But also worth living.
It’s a tradeoff like everything else.
Turns out being a real little boy is quite complicated. I have often wondered about the really awkward conversations Geppetto had to have with Pinocchio right after he became an actual human boy.
Explaining the need to occasionally shit and piss and how to handle everything about it alone would be one heck of a conversation.
Anyhow, back to the topic at hand. Though I am glad I am thinking in comedic terms.
The image of myself as frozen in place haunts my mind a lot lately. I think my brain is trying to resolve the situation and to do so it has to keep returning to that disturbingly accurate image as it tries to melt that ice and get things flowing again.
Images of Spring spring to mind.
And of course, like I have been saying lately, this all revolves around my id and my very distant relationship with it.
The “decision” to sever said id when I retreated into myself to escape being raped turned me into an emotional cripple and every day I comprehend a little more of just how deeply scarred and contaminated that left me.
No wonder I was timid and shy. I had no driving force inside me any more!
Another, even more disturbingly accurate and harsh image haunting my mind is of myself having broken both legs (emotionally speaking) and never getting them treated at all so when the bones knit again, it was at crazy weird angles that made walking extremely painful and awkward and I have lived with being such a twisted and warped being ever since.
I told you it was harsh.
But it rings true for me on an emotional level. After all, being raped when I was four was a profound trauma for which I got absolutely no treatment because I didn’t even have the language to express what had happened to me to anyone, let alone having someone I could express it to.
Back then, in 1977, predators like the one who forever scarred me operated with relative impunity because of those exact factors. There was absolutely no awareness of child predation and so monsters like him could rape all the children he wanted, safe in the knowledge that the kid would be too freaked out and hurt by this horrible action from beyond their little world to say anything and even if they did tell somebody, nobody would have believed them and they would have been accused of “making up dirty stories” or the like.
People didn’t want to believe that something like that really happened.
Thank god we got over that, anyhow.
More after the break.
On self indulgence
I am currently eating shawarma poutine from Shawarma 2 Go that I can’t really afford.
Last Friday’s grocery run was especially expensive ($75) due to running out of both microwave popcorn ($12) and margarine ($9) in the same week, plus I had to pay for my DoorDash Plus ($11/month for a reduction in DoorDash fees, saves me $$$ in the long run). so my usual $125/week of credit card money was already spent.
But whatever. I will probably just pay for my next $30 meal at Denny’s in cash and order shall be restored to the force.
The poutine was pretty good. I got it with shawarma lamb, of course, because if lamb is an option, I get lamb.
It just tastes so good. And beyond that it seems to satisfy something in me. Something that’s more than just hunger.
Maybe I am secretly the reincarnation of a Scottish werewolf.
I’ve had a few miniature dizzy spells today. Just a moment of imbalance, enough to make me think “whoa!” and need to regain my balance, but then, gone.
It felt like a circulation thing, as opposed to a sinus thing or head thing.
I really wonder about my circulation sometimes. I spend a lot of time sitting at this here computer o’ mine in the same basic position, and when I am not here I am lying in bed, and neither exactly encourage robust circulation of my vital humours.
I know I should move a lot more. I even know that I would probably feel a lot better if I did. After all, I always feel better after my exercises at the Kinsmen.
But I am still too “stuck” to get myself to exercise. My id is too detached. I have not yet found the key to feeling truly alive instead of feeling like a frozen zombie all the time.
Here I am, brain the size of a planet, yet frozen like a block of ice when it comes to actually pursuing my own best interests, or anything at all really.
It’s ridiculous. It’s absurd. With powers like mine, I should be living in a golden palace and not this dirty old wizard’s tower.
I should at the very least have a minimum wage existence.
But most of the time, most days, I just go through the same ol shit over and over again, unable to do anything more than follow the same old default script.
Where’s that handsome prince of mine again? He’s taking forever to get here.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.