Post Secret is one of those sites I visit with every update, every week. I am surprized at how many friends do the same. It's a disturbing peek into society's twisted darkness. I am amused, appalled and confused. So many chaotic, unnecessarily fucked-up lives. So much fear over misperceptions, anger turned to revenge and betrayal. How little gratitude and appreciation and communication.
A woman afraid she might have cancer. Worried if she looks "brave." I hope she is educating herself and enjoying her friends, but I fear she is more concerned with hiding.
A woman afraid to accept a marriage proposal, because of a freaky MIL prospect. Which is probably reasonable. Maybe. Depending.
Someone who misses being in the war. Adrenaline is addictive, and the close contact with friends is potent. The aftermath is lonely and flat. Even I, in my slight brush far behind any kind of line, can understand this. I have wondered if, some day, there might be a job for me working with returned vets.
Presumably a "Lolita" considering ruining a man's life, because she thinks she is in love. Love is not ruining anyone. And I both want to shake sense into her, and wonder how short she must be on experience with real relationships to even consider this illusion.
A confession that needs to happen, gratitude expressed, admission of a problem half-spoken, hope, hints, paradoxical instincts, curiosity. An understandable, though criminal, intent to kill dogs (call the ASPCA first, please) who bark too much. Financial worry, dissatisfactions despite apparent attainment of companionship, joys and desires and surprizes.
I have been sad and lethargic this week, wanting to blame and retreat, deflect and hibernate. But I went to work, did my job with all I had. I wrote that pean to D and Moby. I have chatted with Moira. I have made an effort to be more chummy with my cow-orkers. I didn't much feel like it, but I made the effort, with slight effect.
Reading Post Secret each week, I realize I don't have any secrets I have never told anybody. Confidences kept, yes, but kept with whomever told me. I have anxiety issues, loneliness, frustration, despairing days. But it's all current, and flowing through, however sludgily. It clots and clumps, stinks awhile, then poops out, and is largely gone. Which is how it's supposed to work.
Change is coloring the far horizon, the glow of pre dawn, the mirage of a distant island. I am getting rid of any summer clothes I did not wear this summer, or winter clothes not worn last winter*. Lists are being made. Plans discussed. It's a secret, temporarily. I'm not about to let any problem rot inside, not anymore.
Life is complicated. We weave in and out of each other's lives, and small details and tones, our own ability to accept help, or take responsibility, are all the difference between life lived, and life regretted. Shit happens. Best to let it.
*To be donated, not discarded.
6 comments:
"I have anxiety issues, loneliness, frustration, despairing days. But it's all current, and flowing through, however sludgily. It clots and clumps, stinks awhile, then poops out, and is largely gone. Which is how it's supposed to work."
Exactly. How perfectly phrased Zhoen. I often refer to it as "weather," "weather systems"...passing through.
While I can do a few hours or days of high tragedy from time to time, I can't suspend disbelief long enough to see it as anything other than transient and highly unimportant when viewed from a convenient mountain top.
Terrific piece.
Now I'm heading to the secrets site.
Interesting: I assumed that Humbert Humbert was a schoolteacher (who else meets under-age girls?); if so, his life really would be ruined: he'd be fired and have his degree rescinded. OTOH he does have the option of not responding, Potiphar's wife notwithstanding.
I find PostSecret always very moving, even in the cases where I mutter "but you dug the hole yourself!" I still feel compassion for the writer's distress. But yes, so much of our unhappiness is unnecessary.
I would not have guessed from the loving posts, that you've had a sad week. Well written, I shall remember that last paragraph.
I love the paragraph that LJ highlights as well. Wishing you better times from hereon .....
Lists... plans... a secret... hmm!
"Change is coloring the far horizon" - that's so beautiful, and such a true image. It lingers in my mind. I let my mind's eye linger on it, for you, for myself. Thinking of all the photos I've taken, this Autumn, of clear horizons, strong light emphasising the skyline, over London.
Have I mentioned recently that you are the mostly lovely bunch of people I know? You would fit in so well with our other friends, currently far away geographically, though not from our hearts. One day, A HUGE group Beer Night.
Post a Comment