I am so tired of myself
Honestly, I've started about 18 posts on different things--why are so many Australians popping up on my sitemeter looking for "unsex me"?; why was Bill Monroe's band called "the Blue Sky Boys" if Bessie Lee Maudlin was his bassist?; are women named "Bessie" destined to be kick-ass buckers of tradition? why didn't my mom name me Bessie? etc.--but none of them are interesting enough to me to bring me out of my funk.
And why am I in a funk?
Because I'm so fucking tired of myself. Other people have huge problems or are stuck in dead-end jobs or loveless marriages to creeps with weird patchy back hair or only have one working nostril or can't afford underwear or whatever.
My biggest problem is that I've been putting the yarn on my needle in the wrong direction while purling, thus making the knitting very difficult. But I've straightened that out now and am starting to see why people actually enjoy this activity.
But still, I'm all What am I doing with my life? Am I happy? Am I fulfilled? Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing? How would I know?
See, dear reader, what bullshit that is? I don't believe in some kind of fate that stretches out before us, a road we can't help but travel (though I believe in the kind of inevitable momentum of our past acts). There is no supposed. Trying to figure out what you're supposed to be doing is some bullshit mystic nonsense. I'm supposed to be breathing. I'd like some cookies. Neither one of those is inevitable.
What else is annoying? I see this as an inherently feminist project--giving voice to this one woman's thoughts and experiences, etc. But in order to do that, I feel like it's important to be honest, to poke around and see what hurts and why. But I'm looking back over recent posts and I realize I'm doing a lot of telling myself fairytales about my family in order to smooth over my anxieties. That won't do.
Not that I'm going to stop telling stories about my family any time soon. I just want to be honest with myself about what I'm doing: constructing a way of feeling okay about things because I can't control some things--like the situation with the nephews--and won't do anything about other things--such as the Butcher's lack of paying his fair share of things.
Anyway, What if everyone secretly hates me? What if I'm about to be fired without warning? What if our landlord kicks us out right now for no reason?
On and on it goes.
I'm unsettled for no good reason, just that it's the first day back after a long weekend. And I'm just so tired of my bullshit.
posted by Aunt B at 5/31/2005 05:44:00 PM
8 Comments:
You are not alone. Welcome to the wonderful world of self doubt spawned by the modern age. I have a perfectly good job a spouse I mostly like, a house I am generally happy with a retirement account blah blah blah, yet I have almost daily low grade panic attacks, can't sleep, am consumed by worry/stress about what? nothing in particular.
when I was a construction worked, my days were filled with mindless drudgery, I went home tired without a care in the world. Now I almost never (ok, never) am physically tired by my job and therefore my brain seems to be overactive. Because there is the leftover glucose floating around my bloodstream, the brain has that extra juice it needs to consume to fire the worry/stress engines.
Although I never seem to get sick of myself.
LE
I think you should try snorting a Lexapro up your nose accidentally. The continusous drip, drip, drip will take your mind off your problems. Worked for me!
But no, really, keep blogging about the mundane. It amuses the rest of us and keeps us from staring at our belly buttons.
Just as I was about to snort a Lexapro and run out to become a construction worker, the Butcher called and said he was bringing home treats. Now, I'm feeling a little back on kilter.
Not that one should be using cookies to mask one's existential crises.
This is my take on it: Our greedy little society makes a profit everytime some tries to "be" something. So, they fill us full of all these messages about "achieving" things. They even tell us that being something and achieving something will make your life complete.
Of course it's all Bullshit. But because our little society is now so consumed by these thoughts, we can't help but believe them, and compare our lives to them.
We have to realize that all we can really do is live. If you are living, then you are fine, and completely human, and fulfilling your destiny. Once you get yourself comfortable with that thought, then everything else is gravy.
Excellent progress already, Aunt B!
Cookies are good. And if a package of Dark Chocolate or Hazelnut Petit Ecolier cookies (http://products.peapod.com/243.html) just so happens to be waiting for me at home, as one is right now, my outlook improves immensely.
I've also found that certain ice cream flavors can help mask existential crises. The LE/Shill household is a big believer in masking existential crises with foodstuffs. Scotch, Starbucks, ice cream, cookies -- take comfort in your consistency!
I found your post to be infinitely more interesting than any advice you've been given in these comments, so I shall refrain from adding to the mundane.
I wish I were a pirate. Really.
-Jon
A pirate?! That's awesome. You could start small, just a little rowboat out on Percy Priest, and work your way up to a gallion.
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