Thinking is dangerous. For everyone. There is a quote, no idea where it comes from, saying that people are stupid. I agree with this, to a point. People, as a whole, are stupid. The cliche that people are nothing more than sheep is quite accurate, doing nothing more than just following what their peers do, never actually thinking for themselves. In certain instances, at least. A person, on the other hand, well, that's a whole new ball of wax. A person, given the motivation, given the reason, can be quite intelligent. That intelligence can lead to bad things. Very bad things, indeed.
I have been lost in thought, for most of my life, to be honest. But lately, it's been something more. I have been thinking about my place in this world, where my life fits in, what I contribute, not only to myself and those around me, but to the global society. Through my long thought process, I come up lacking ANY grand scheme. I contribute nothing. Yes, I have a job, and my job facilitates the needs of others, but that's a job, not a reason for my life. I have family, but there are better examples of family all around me, and yes, I know there are worse examples, but I don't hold them to be my equal or better, and I don't validate that as a reason to call my own family a good one, and example for others. I have a son. This is the closest I can come to having a purpose. But realistically, because of my shortcomings, I see myself as a hindrance to him, not a mentor. And, through my "corrupted" thought process, I would find it hypocritical to ask of him to learn from my mistakes. I also have no desire for him to follow my path in life. So, once again, I am left with no purpose.
This thought process has led me to the idealism of friendship. I don't know how, it just has. I have many that, up to this point, I considered to be friends. Now, the collective whole of the group have done nothing wrong, have done nothing to sway my thoughts towards where they are now. That was all me. What do I consider a friendship? I thought, to myself, that a friend would be a person that I could rely on, that I could talk to, that I could listen too, a person whose life was better because I was in it. A pretty good definition of a friend, in my opinion. But an incorrect one, as well. Sure, it's true to a point, but those are really just surface things. A friend, in MY reality, is someone to use. The more I can use them, the better a friend they are. I think that this is probably a very true statement for more than are willing to admit it.
I stumble upon this thought process because of resentment. I began to resent my friends, because of the things they acquired, the way that they though, the way they interacted with others. I resented them because I was not in control of certain things. I believe that this showed me that I was not in control of things in my own life, perhaps causing fear, sadness, loneliness. I'm honestly not sure. I couldn't rely on my "friends" anymore, for whatever reason. I couldn't rely on myself, either. Now it has become a game, of sorts, because I was still not aware of the thoughts that would present themselves. How to keep up the facade of being a friend, while not actually being a friend. And how to ignore the feeling that something was wrong.
Wrong. That's a pretty heavy word. It implies that something could be right, but isn't. I guess a better way to say that would be that something was going counter-intuitively to the way that others might think it should go. Either way, something wasn't sitting right with me. Throughout my life, I have used those nearest to me, for whatever gain might be there. Money, rides, places to sleep, food, or just so feed my own self worth. I was blatant, stupidly so, about the way I used to do things. As I evolved, I began to be more subversive, more for my ego than anything else, for I could provide for all of my other essential needs. I would do things for people, seemingly out of kindness, even to myself for that reason. Upon reflection, it would be to establish a sort of dominance, to make myself better, to diminish other peoples perception of their own self worth. I would help people, and in return, they would know that I was better than they were. I became very, very good at this. I could manipulate any situation I wanted too. I could control anyone.
Except myself. There was not a shred of inner decency, no morality, no remorse. There was nothing to live for other than the acceptance of the people around me. And I was fine with that, because I didn't know it. And for the most part, nothing has changed, in all these years, except enlightenment. I now know, or at least think I do, why I do the things I do, say the things I say. It's to show my own lack of self worth to me. To finally open my eyes to the fact: I am not a good person. I am the worst kind of evil, and yes, evil is the appropriate word. There is definitely a standard of social morality, and I not only fail to meet it, I fail to acknowledge it. There is no higher purpose for me. There is nothing that I give to others that they can't get themselves, other than pain, grief, and suffering. And, in a last effort to show any sort of humanity at all, under no circumstances have I ever wanted to be referred to as a baseline for rock bottom. There is no feasible solution for fixing what others would consider wrong. There is nothing.
As I began, so I finish. Thoughts are dangerous, and can lead to very bad places. The worst place of all, in fact. Your thought, as mine have, can lead you to yourself, and show you just how much you don't mean. Even to you.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Thoughts, and a beginning
I have contemplated writing a blog for quite some time. My life is more confusing to me than anything else I have ever encountered, and try as I might, there is just no way for me to make heads or tails of it. At 29 years of age, I have succeeded, failed, and everything in between.
I was born alone. That simple statement has made many people prior to you scoff, calling me a cynic, emo, or what have you. It is not a cry for attention, it is simply a fact. I was born without a dad, and too a mother who was completely unprepared for the consequences. In the early 80's, being a single mother was rare, and there was no help for those who chose to do it. My mother related to me that upon my birth, the attending nurse asked if she would like to see me. Baffled, my mother said of course, why wouldn't she. The nurse has assumed, as in many cases before, that I would be given up for adoption. This is the society and family that I was cast into.
Life did not get any easier as time passed. Skimming the highlights, I went through 2 adopted fathers (one of them twice), meeting my biological father, a string of my mothers boyfriends, finally concluding with her latest husband, who wanted nothing to do with me while I lived under his roof. Out of this, I gained 2 sisters, from the aforementioned 2 adopted fathers, a religion in question, no idea how to grow up, and no chance to be a child. I was abused, violently and passively, I attempted suicide, I became anorexic, I dabbled in drugs, alcohol, academia, women, anything that would let me feel something. I was labeled by my peers, society, family and friends as a cynic, a pessimist, a loser, a drag on those around me, a godsend, a life saver, a leader among men.
I have never truly experienced anything, it seems that I merely observe. Now, I do participate in the events of life, it's just that at the end of the day, I feel the same. There is no rush of excitement, no lingering sorrows, nothing. I could get fired, or promoted, and at the moments these things happen, I display the appropriate emotions, but internally, it's almost as if I am dead. I can laugh to tears, and seconds later be completely serious, with no transition between the two. This creeps people out. This is normal for me.
I do have fears. They are fears that I barely confess to myself. My fears have led to a pseudo-insomnia. I hate dreaming. Can't stand it. In my dreams, I emote. I feel. I am what some might consider alive. I don't remember my dreams, but I remember how I feel. I have woken up with a pillow soaked from the tears of pain and sorrow, I have woken feeling loved, I have woken to joy, to rage, and a plethora of other emotions. And I feel them, in those waking moments. They dissipate, those feelings, but I remember. My dreams are dreadful, they are wonderful, but most of all, they are inconsistent. My dreams do not relate to the current events of my life in any way, but rather they are a rehashing of prior events, events I do not wish to relive.
I am a parent, and a damn good one, at that. The problem here is, I have no idea what I am doing. Being a parent is the most terrifying thing I have ever done, yet at the same time, it is the easiest. People I have associated with talk about the difficulties of parenthood, and I sit there, nodding my head, affirming what they are saying, while internally, I wonder what they are doing wrong, why they just don't deal with the issues they are having, judging them to be weak, unworthy of parenthood. Yeah, I know it's wrong to judge, but that's part of who I am. My child is beyond smart, when he want's to be. I deal with extreme guilt, knowing the life that he has, and how it could be better for him, and how it's my fault that it isn't. Regardless, he has what today would be deemed as a normal life. He is able to find the joys of the world around him, and able to experience everything. He chooses his own path, and I help him with those decisions.
To some, I would be called successful, given the situation that I have found myself in, and to others, not so much. I am employed, making a decent living, in a field that I am very good at. I have a place to call home, a vehicle, food in the kitchen. I have bills, responsibilities, commitments. I have a relationship with both my mother and my father, with my youngest sister and her husband. I have friends across the country, and I talk to them all semi-frequently. To look at the overview of the current situation of me, I am not doing so bad.
I am very good at my job, and I hate it. I make a good wage, but at the end of the week, I have no idea how to manage my money. I have a car, but it's used, and broken half the time. Yes, there is food, but it's the same food, every day, every week, and if I forget to eat (usually), the food goes bad. My bills keep coming, reminding me of things that I forgot to take care of, reminding me of things that I never should have done. Responsibilities and commitments, broken or forgotten, I put the bare minimum effort into them. I talk to my mother, and have such mixed feelings about her, partly blaming her for the situation that I am in, partly resenting her for the success she has found, my father for abandoning me before I was born, my sister(s) for not doing the things they should, my friends for being better at everything than I am.
These are the thoughts that I deal with, not on a daily basis, more like an hourly basis. This is the beginning that I give to you.
I was born alone. That simple statement has made many people prior to you scoff, calling me a cynic, emo, or what have you. It is not a cry for attention, it is simply a fact. I was born without a dad, and too a mother who was completely unprepared for the consequences. In the early 80's, being a single mother was rare, and there was no help for those who chose to do it. My mother related to me that upon my birth, the attending nurse asked if she would like to see me. Baffled, my mother said of course, why wouldn't she. The nurse has assumed, as in many cases before, that I would be given up for adoption. This is the society and family that I was cast into.
Life did not get any easier as time passed. Skimming the highlights, I went through 2 adopted fathers (one of them twice), meeting my biological father, a string of my mothers boyfriends, finally concluding with her latest husband, who wanted nothing to do with me while I lived under his roof. Out of this, I gained 2 sisters, from the aforementioned 2 adopted fathers, a religion in question, no idea how to grow up, and no chance to be a child. I was abused, violently and passively, I attempted suicide, I became anorexic, I dabbled in drugs, alcohol, academia, women, anything that would let me feel something. I was labeled by my peers, society, family and friends as a cynic, a pessimist, a loser, a drag on those around me, a godsend, a life saver, a leader among men.
I have never truly experienced anything, it seems that I merely observe. Now, I do participate in the events of life, it's just that at the end of the day, I feel the same. There is no rush of excitement, no lingering sorrows, nothing. I could get fired, or promoted, and at the moments these things happen, I display the appropriate emotions, but internally, it's almost as if I am dead. I can laugh to tears, and seconds later be completely serious, with no transition between the two. This creeps people out. This is normal for me.
I do have fears. They are fears that I barely confess to myself. My fears have led to a pseudo-insomnia. I hate dreaming. Can't stand it. In my dreams, I emote. I feel. I am what some might consider alive. I don't remember my dreams, but I remember how I feel. I have woken up with a pillow soaked from the tears of pain and sorrow, I have woken feeling loved, I have woken to joy, to rage, and a plethora of other emotions. And I feel them, in those waking moments. They dissipate, those feelings, but I remember. My dreams are dreadful, they are wonderful, but most of all, they are inconsistent. My dreams do not relate to the current events of my life in any way, but rather they are a rehashing of prior events, events I do not wish to relive.
I am a parent, and a damn good one, at that. The problem here is, I have no idea what I am doing. Being a parent is the most terrifying thing I have ever done, yet at the same time, it is the easiest. People I have associated with talk about the difficulties of parenthood, and I sit there, nodding my head, affirming what they are saying, while internally, I wonder what they are doing wrong, why they just don't deal with the issues they are having, judging them to be weak, unworthy of parenthood. Yeah, I know it's wrong to judge, but that's part of who I am. My child is beyond smart, when he want's to be. I deal with extreme guilt, knowing the life that he has, and how it could be better for him, and how it's my fault that it isn't. Regardless, he has what today would be deemed as a normal life. He is able to find the joys of the world around him, and able to experience everything. He chooses his own path, and I help him with those decisions.
To some, I would be called successful, given the situation that I have found myself in, and to others, not so much. I am employed, making a decent living, in a field that I am very good at. I have a place to call home, a vehicle, food in the kitchen. I have bills, responsibilities, commitments. I have a relationship with both my mother and my father, with my youngest sister and her husband. I have friends across the country, and I talk to them all semi-frequently. To look at the overview of the current situation of me, I am not doing so bad.
I am very good at my job, and I hate it. I make a good wage, but at the end of the week, I have no idea how to manage my money. I have a car, but it's used, and broken half the time. Yes, there is food, but it's the same food, every day, every week, and if I forget to eat (usually), the food goes bad. My bills keep coming, reminding me of things that I forgot to take care of, reminding me of things that I never should have done. Responsibilities and commitments, broken or forgotten, I put the bare minimum effort into them. I talk to my mother, and have such mixed feelings about her, partly blaming her for the situation that I am in, partly resenting her for the success she has found, my father for abandoning me before I was born, my sister(s) for not doing the things they should, my friends for being better at everything than I am.
These are the thoughts that I deal with, not on a daily basis, more like an hourly basis. This is the beginning that I give to you.
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