Posted Date: : Sep 17, 2008 4:44 PM
There comes a moment after every traumatic event, dramatic affair, when you suddenly stop and think "How on Earth did I get here in one piece?" or "Only me, this could only happen to me". Story of life right?
That Murphy's Law in fact does not belong to said Murphy, but to me. The entire premise of "if it can go wrong..." completely affixes itself to every facet of my life at some point or another and then BANG! There it is.
Things can only go good for me for so long before a tumultuous turn for the worse takes place. And I don't do things in a mild manner no. Go big or go home right? It's not some tiny annoyance, its not some mundane idiosyncrasy that gets you down now and again, it's a culmination of things that pile up all at once, and make your emotional or mental well being seem to instantly shatter.
I should have seen it coming. It's a sick pattern in my life, like a morbid algebra equation, mapped out to come out with the answer that I must be miserable, eventually. No wonder math and I have such a hate/hate relationship.
With the events revolving around my son's father and his selfish and mindless actions that caused such turmoil in mine and my son's lives. Having my son witness at a week-shy of 4 years old, what a 4 year old should never witness. Dealing with the aftermath. The investigations, the trauma, the courts, DSS. (That's right you heard me) I did all with a straight face. I tried to at least. Tried to show that my son had one stable parent he can count on, the one who is there always, steadfast and strong. Holding everything back so as not to show any sort of fear or weakness in front of him. Children are like predators in the wild, they can detect fear. There's only so much you can hide.
Trying to be a good friend to one who has become a good friend to me in a time of need. She, going through what I had almost 2 years to the day with the loss of my father. Trying to remain casually unaffected. To be the strong supporter in her time of need. To be there. To be a friend, when it killed me. Brought back with a vengeance very ounce of distraught I felt 2 years prior. And then the anniversary. Torture.
Financial uncertainty of course, my biggest downfall in my 29 years. Yes I have in the past been my own worst enemy, but now, now after trying to hard to start to dig myself out of the hole I fell into in my youth, am afraid. I'm doing it alone. No more child support. No help. Cruel irony in making too much money to get any assistance, yet too little to survive day to day.
And then of course, the clichéd straw. You know that very one, the camel, it's back. The tiniest of things that compounded with my already fragile psyche can cause me to meltdown, albeit slightly, but enough to cause me to cry for no reason. But of course when no one is looking.
But who looks? Really? I think this is truly a time where I can say I have never felt so alone.
Surrounded by people yet completely detached. All things I do, I say robotic, as if I am on some sort of mental auto-pilot to fool everyone. Hiding myself. Putting the smiles on when necessary. But hiding away. Or wilting away. Becoming a shadow of my usual self.
A victim of sins of others. Past cascading in my mind over and over again. Replaying the damages done, and fearful of it happening again. Too vulnerable to not get upset by it. Baggage if you will. Not enough to make me crazy, just enough to make me overly cautious.
Or to notice the little things. The small things. Amoeba's in speech patterns. Things most people won't see. Concentrating on what isn't said over what is. A late night phone call that goes un-answered and blown off as nothing, yet not looking at the phone in front of you. Disappearing for days. Lack of communication. Feeling someone detach themselves from you. It all comes flooding back. The lies, the secrets, the hurt.
You could be exaggerating things in your head, you're too fragile to tell. But you know something isn't right. There were promises. Promises to do whatever it took to make you feel trust, to make you feel anything. And all it feels like are promises broken.
All compounded in a small time frame, all on top of each other. Some serious, some seemingly nothing, but all enough to make one not themselves. To bring you down just enough that you don't know what to do. Do you run, do you hide? Can you? What sort of twisted thoughts play in your head, that make it seem like escaping ans starting over. But it all comes back in the end.
There is no straight line. No "two roads diverged" as Robert Frost once said, no. It's circumferential, it's equatorial. You travel along life in a circle, always seeming to come back to the same point. The starting point. Things may look different for a while, but they always end up the same.
What's the point of even trying
There comes a moment after every traumatic event, dramatic affair, when you suddenly stop and think "How on Earth did I get here in one piece?" or "Only me, this could only happen to me". Story of life right?
That Murphy's Law in fact does not belong to said Murphy, but to me. The entire premise of "if it can go wrong..." completely affixes itself to every facet of my life at some point or another and then BANG! There it is.
Things can only go good for me for so long before a tumultuous turn for the worse takes place. And I don't do things in a mild manner no. Go big or go home right? It's not some tiny annoyance, its not some mundane idiosyncrasy that gets you down now and again, it's a culmination of things that pile up all at once, and make your emotional or mental well being seem to instantly shatter.
I should have seen it coming. It's a sick pattern in my life, like a morbid algebra equation, mapped out to come out with the answer that I must be miserable, eventually. No wonder math and I have such a hate/hate relationship.
With the events revolving around my son's father and his selfish and mindless actions that caused such turmoil in mine and my son's lives. Having my son witness at a week-shy of 4 years old, what a 4 year old should never witness. Dealing with the aftermath. The investigations, the trauma, the courts, DSS. (That's right you heard me) I did all with a straight face. I tried to at least. Tried to show that my son had one stable parent he can count on, the one who is there always, steadfast and strong. Holding everything back so as not to show any sort of fear or weakness in front of him. Children are like predators in the wild, they can detect fear. There's only so much you can hide.
Trying to be a good friend to one who has become a good friend to me in a time of need. She, going through what I had almost 2 years to the day with the loss of my father. Trying to remain casually unaffected. To be the strong supporter in her time of need. To be there. To be a friend, when it killed me. Brought back with a vengeance very ounce of distraught I felt 2 years prior. And then the anniversary. Torture.
Financial uncertainty of course, my biggest downfall in my 29 years. Yes I have in the past been my own worst enemy, but now, now after trying to hard to start to dig myself out of the hole I fell into in my youth, am afraid. I'm doing it alone. No more child support. No help. Cruel irony in making too much money to get any assistance, yet too little to survive day to day.
And then of course, the clichéd straw. You know that very one, the camel, it's back. The tiniest of things that compounded with my already fragile psyche can cause me to meltdown, albeit slightly, but enough to cause me to cry for no reason. But of course when no one is looking.
But who looks? Really? I think this is truly a time where I can say I have never felt so alone.
Surrounded by people yet completely detached. All things I do, I say robotic, as if I am on some sort of mental auto-pilot to fool everyone. Hiding myself. Putting the smiles on when necessary. But hiding away. Or wilting away. Becoming a shadow of my usual self.
A victim of sins of others. Past cascading in my mind over and over again. Replaying the damages done, and fearful of it happening again. Too vulnerable to not get upset by it. Baggage if you will. Not enough to make me crazy, just enough to make me overly cautious.
Or to notice the little things. The small things. Amoeba's in speech patterns. Things most people won't see. Concentrating on what isn't said over what is. A late night phone call that goes un-answered and blown off as nothing, yet not looking at the phone in front of you. Disappearing for days. Lack of communication. Feeling someone detach themselves from you. It all comes flooding back. The lies, the secrets, the hurt.
You could be exaggerating things in your head, you're too fragile to tell. But you know something isn't right. There were promises. Promises to do whatever it took to make you feel trust, to make you feel anything. And all it feels like are promises broken.
All compounded in a small time frame, all on top of each other. Some serious, some seemingly nothing, but all enough to make one not themselves. To bring you down just enough that you don't know what to do. Do you run, do you hide? Can you? What sort of twisted thoughts play in your head, that make it seem like escaping ans starting over. But it all comes back in the end.
There is no straight line. No "two roads diverged" as Robert Frost once said, no. It's circumferential, it's equatorial. You travel along life in a circle, always seeming to come back to the same point. The starting point. Things may look different for a while, but they always end up the same.
What's the point of even trying
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