Monday, October 18, 2004
The start of the slippery slope
I don't understand most people. I don't exactly try to. I have a lot of problems. I complain a lot. About the small stuff. The insignificant things. But the bigger issues, the ones that have been keeping me up most nights in the past few months, well, I've tended to keep quiet about them lately. I haven't really had counsel with anyone about them. Once you start on a slippery slope of silence, it becomes ever-increasingly difficult to talk, to break the silence.
Slippery slopes haven't served me all that well in the past few months. So I'm gonna strap on some crampons and throw my ice pick in to anchor myself as I go - ever-so-slowly.
I'm not concerned with what people think of me, what they think of what I'm doing. I'm not very big on fixing everyone else's problems. I have faith and confidence in most other people that they either don't want everyone else thinking about or fixing their problems, and I have faith and confidence in people that they can somehow manage to solve their own problems, however they see fit. I have my own laundry list of "shit that's going wrong" that I can't abandon in order to save someone else from themselves or their family or their friends or their own laundry list of personal problems. The non-ability or non-want to fix anyone else's problems still leaves me as somewhat useful. I still have a shoulder. I still have an ear. I still sympathize, empathize and care. I still offer all of that.
Hearing about someone else's problems is sometimes a relief to me. It allows me moments of non-self-indulgence, it allays the self-pity-parties. But it feels like a small get together tonight. I'd have prepared some vodka jell-o shots, but I was struck with the invitation not very long ago. So please accept my apologies.
I'm feeling pretty vulnerable lately. Somehow, unsure. Worried. Stressed. Anxious. I question my own decisions about whether or not I should visit my family over the holidays. I don't want to. I've decided I won't go. So, I won't go, but what if that's the wrong choice? I don't trust my strength or my abilities to keep things at an even keel. I hesitate to discuss the details of this whole thing. I waver about whom to trust. I can't figure out in my head if this is something that's been blown way out of proportion or if it's something to be this concerned about. It's all a little fuzzy for me. And all the thinking I've been doing hasn't clarified much. And what with the slippery slope of silence making it all but impossible at this stage for me to actually talk about it, I've found myself in a conundrum. I put myself there. Which means I can get myself out of it.
Slippery slopes haven't served me all that well in the past few months. So I'm gonna strap on some crampons and throw my ice pick in to anchor myself as I go - ever-so-slowly.
I'm not concerned with what people think of me, what they think of what I'm doing. I'm not very big on fixing everyone else's problems. I have faith and confidence in most other people that they either don't want everyone else thinking about or fixing their problems, and I have faith and confidence in people that they can somehow manage to solve their own problems, however they see fit. I have my own laundry list of "shit that's going wrong" that I can't abandon in order to save someone else from themselves or their family or their friends or their own laundry list of personal problems. The non-ability or non-want to fix anyone else's problems still leaves me as somewhat useful. I still have a shoulder. I still have an ear. I still sympathize, empathize and care. I still offer all of that.
Hearing about someone else's problems is sometimes a relief to me. It allows me moments of non-self-indulgence, it allays the self-pity-parties. But it feels like a small get together tonight. I'd have prepared some vodka jell-o shots, but I was struck with the invitation not very long ago. So please accept my apologies.
I'm feeling pretty vulnerable lately. Somehow, unsure. Worried. Stressed. Anxious. I question my own decisions about whether or not I should visit my family over the holidays. I don't want to. I've decided I won't go. So, I won't go, but what if that's the wrong choice? I don't trust my strength or my abilities to keep things at an even keel. I hesitate to discuss the details of this whole thing. I waver about whom to trust. I can't figure out in my head if this is something that's been blown way out of proportion or if it's something to be this concerned about. It's all a little fuzzy for me. And all the thinking I've been doing hasn't clarified much. And what with the slippery slope of silence making it all but impossible at this stage for me to actually talk about it, I've found myself in a conundrum. I put myself there. Which means I can get myself out of it.
notes:
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