I don’t want to talk about sadness. Honestly, I am a bit afraid to talk too much about sadness. At this present juncture in my life, I believe myself to have found a balance. But I am not 100% sure I am right. Has anyone else ever done that? You have set up for yourself an array of….somethings, but you aren’t quite sure if the balance is this:
Or more like this:
(Above image found at: http://www.gatheringspot.net/topic/general-discussion/stone-ishing-artist-who-balances-heavy-rocks-top-each-other-daily-mail-rep-0)
I like to think that I have arranged all those things to look like the first image. I have it together. I am fine. I can handle A, B, C, and D. Don’t worry about me.
I fear that there may be more truth in the second image. Boy do I hate typing that out loud. You see, precarious as that second image may be, it’s a Jenga game, and right now all those bricks matter. Take that second from the bottom brick away, and….
I do smile easily. I enjoy humor. I love to spar and banter – in fact, sparring and banter keeps the other at bay. But here’s a secret: there is a very significant sadness waiting for a break in the action t5o begin oozing into the cracks. And I. Don’t. Want. It.
Now, so that I do not appear to be pampered or weak or whatnot, I will say I have experienced sadness. I have lost people I love, I have been touched by death, I have experienced the sadness of various of types of rejection, one type in particular that was chronic. long term, and like a death of 1,000 cuts. I’m not a “weenie” with regard to sadness. I don’t fear tears. I am not afraid to spend time alone. I don’t seek to escape the reality of life.
And now I am rambling (smiles).
2015 has been an odd year. And one thing I keep coming back to, a takeaway I never expected to become an epiphany is this: I have very little, if any, control over many many things.
I never thought of myself as a control freak. And trust me, I know control freaks. I do pretty well most of the time understand that life will happen how it will happen, and while we ought to do the best we can with what we have, we don’t call all or even most of the shots.
But this is the first time in my life that I can remember being hit with so very many things over which I had no control, things I could not change no matter how much I wanted to, all at the same time, in such quick succession. So many things that would impact my life just….happened, much of it without my even knowing it was happening or coming.
The last time I felt something like this…well, no, not the last time, but the time I will actually write about, was when I was 15. I sat in a hospital waiting room while my first real boyfriend was in ICU. He had been hit by a drunk driver. We all prayed and prayed and prayed. I knew – I KNEW God could wake him up, God could heal him. He really could. He didn’t. And I think I knew. I think I knew when I heard about the accident. I think I knew that weekend when we all sat in the hospital and then tried to distract ourselves by NOT sitting at the hospital. I think I knew at church when everyone was crying and talking about it. I know I knew when I saw Mary Ellen’s face at lunch on Monday.
But I hoped and prayed and hoped and prayed….up until the bitter end. Even when Mary Ellen shook her head and then took my hand when I dropped my lunch tray, I thought if I just said “no” enough times I could will it away.
BUt it was done. He was gone. Looking back, he was gone the second the car landed on him, and all of the hoping and praying and bargaining and everything else was in vain before I even started. So, since I couldn’t make him un-die, hence began the litany of if only’s. We had broken up (at my initiation) a couple of months before. I was already regretting it. I heard he was still interested. But I wasn’t in a hurry.
In the end, I just plain ran out of time. And I tortured myself. If I had never broken up with him, if I had gone ahead and talked to him, we probably would have been out on a date. He wouldn’t have been in that car with that friend on that corner. He’d be alive and we’d be happy and all the pain would disappear.
Of course, all of that was futile, and the feeling was so helpless. If there is one thing I hate it is feeling helpless, powerless. Later in college I felt that same helplessness when what I believed to my core I wanted more than anything…well, I just couldn’t convince the people I couldn’t bear to disappoint that it was okay. And even later, when I had become more kinds of a pretzel than I thought possible, and I came face to face with the fact that there was not one way I could improve upon myself that was going to change what was hurting me to my core. There was nothing I could do to change anything. It was out of my hands, and it just WAS. Period. No matter how hard it was to breathe through the reality.
So yeah, I guess I had more control issues than I thought (smiles). I said that to a close friend recently, and she laughed…a lot, and loudly. She finally, when she could sit upright again, said, “Sorry, but really? You’re just now realizing that about yourself?” And she is right. I spent most of my life thinking that if I just did enough right (which of course is everything) long enough, then what I believe I desperately want and need will be given…or will not be taken away.
My problem is I always seem to choose a few of the wrong things to do or not do enough. The wrong things to be or not be enough. And I figure it out a day or a week or a month too late. And then it cannot be changed. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it could be changed. Just not comfortably. And those changes are never up to me.
And I can handle that a bit at a time. But when a whole bunch of things just happen…happen…at once, then the plates are too numerous to keep spinning. And I cannot think of one person I can truly be SAD…I mean dark deep sad with. That is the downside of being an extroverted, funny, up, cheerleader type personality. When I am sad, it makes people uncomfortable. I have learned to associate deep expressed sadness with more loss. Who is there on Earth to weep with?
And all this talk puts those bricks in a precarious position. I know some of them are cracking. I can feel it. And there is nothing I can do about it. And I don’t want anyone to be sorry or pat me or send me a nice plant. I want to click my heels together like Dorothy. I want a tardis. I want a do-over.
And that isn’t real life.
And I’m wondering about the red hair. I think losing the blond made a part of me invisible. Or maybe I’m just now noticing it.
So there’s the unfun side of literally. I’ll probably hide it before long. Goodbyes are just more sadness.