Periodically I long for the times when things used to genuinely bother me like they would a normal person. Several people have heard me say that I feel I’m logical to a fault. I have an extraordinarily difficult time dealing with things that do not make logical sense to me even if I know them to be untrue or incorrect. Part of that is looking at something in life or the world and deducing that there is nothing I can do about it. After which, it is slid straight into the back of my mind until it either comes to fruition or I am able to affect it.
A very good instance of that is when my ex-Fiancee wanted to leave me so that she could pursue law school and be her own independant woman for awhile. I wasn’t able to get angry, or upset, or anything of the sort. I was only able to feel proud of her for being able to make a difficult decision and see it through. And logically I’ve always felt that it would never be a good to have someone I had wanted to spend my life with be able to look across the table at me in ten years and think of what they had to give up for me. The reality is I’m a maladjusted bipolar who ended up dragging others with me through it unwittingly. So it seemed completely unreasonable and illogical for me to be the slightest bit angry or unsupportive of that. This I know others have not been able to understand. Unfortunately doing the right thing rarely ever seems to go hand in hand with things being easy.
I’ve also found ways to make this methodology work for me. In times when I didn’t feel I could keep going forward, I reminded myself of horrific things that others have traversed through. And that made it far easier for me to supress suicidal ideation and sometimes homicidal ideation. On the flip side of the coin, it makes it extremely difficult for me to feign the slightest bit of pity for people with petty problems.
I remember I pissed someone off I used to work with at Wal-Mart years ago while I was a cashier. She was complaining about having to work busy lanes and kept complaining about how unfair it was. When she finally prompted me for an answer I replied with, “There are people that don’t even have money for basic utilities and a meal every other day in this country. And you’re complaining because you have a job? If you hate it so much, find another one.” Which I wasn’t attempting to shock her or put her in place or anything of the sort. I just had vivid memory of what I saw when I lived in Detroit.
I think I learned my most valuable life lessons there. No matter how bad it is, it can always be way the hell worse. WAY the hell worse. Since I was a youngin’ I had always been very attracted to the older style rap music. For a long time I couldn’t really figure out why that was. I wasn’t a wigger, nor did I want to be. But once I moved to Detroit and actually saw what they were talking about, it was far easier for me to figure it out later. My skin wasn’t black but I certainly understood what it felt like to feel isolated and hopeless. Which is an incredibly shitty feeling when you are around people that care about you.
But logically, that feeling doesn’t matter. Because no matter how bad I may feel, I’m not dead. Which meant it could be changed and worked towards. And logically I could not discard that information in favor of wallowing in self-pity.
If that makes me a callous asshole, well then I’m a callous asshole. I see no reason to waste time on petty, stupid bullshit.
“I smoke a blunt to take the pain out
and if I wasn’t high prolly try to blow my brains out,
I’m hopeless.
They should’ve killed me as a baby,
Now they got me trapped in this storm, I’m going crazy.”
– Tupac Shakur, ‘Lord Knows’Subscribe to have blog posts and news delivered straight to your Inbox!