September 16, 2011

• I know that one of the first reactions to my current state will be why I didn't try more (I forget if I've written on any of it as of late; I tend to be very careful about what I admit to going on in my head).

  An old entry-mate of mine let me know I was invited to a small party a lot of the Jewish kids on campus were going to be having at his dorm. I was very appreciative. This was largely because I hadn't been very close with my entry and it was a direct addressment, something I seem incapable of deriving in simple eye contact and conversation with most people. I appreciated being acknowledged and, because I was very fond of all of my entry regardless of how close we wound up being, that it was by an old entry-mate.

  I doubt I'll be going. And the first thing people will point to as to why I find myself so systematically pushed down is that I didn't bother to push back.

  What they fail to realize is that I suck at socializing with those I'm not close with; I've mentioned a million times so I'll leave it at that. I also take and analyze everything. I still flinch in public when an embarrassing/bad memory suddenly pops into my head. What might be mild embarrassment for one moment in the past will be assessed over and over until that embarrassment is certain to be remembered quite vividly well.

  If I were someone who could act because they didn't care the consequences, there's much I could do. Bad situations would simply be memories, and I'd be confident enough to get enough successful public interactions.

  But that is not me. And, while the criticizer could respond that it's only through trying that progress is made, I do not know that my chosen moment of bravery will be successful. Many might not be. Which means a great deal of emotional strain in order to incur only more. At the end, choosing simply not to interact or try to get a person to willingly engage me in conversation might not have a satisfactory goal, but it doesn't inflict inane suffering.

   

  Upon leaving Shabbat dinner, I saw Kim. Happy to see her, I snuck up and gave her a hug, wanting to mask my own loneliness and, if possible, fill it in with my appreciation of her and any others to which I have attachment (getting to spend most of today with WSCers made this a good day).

  I find the sentiment of healthiness funny. It means whether in shape, or whether breathing correctly, or if your hair is all there, or if your muscles work well, usually. It is all physical measurement.

  Depression is to be continually sick, to never be rid of sickness. Like an STD for which there is no cure, there may be some days it doesn't itch, though it lightly throbs with soreness. And then other days it rears red with inflammation and more discharge than you want anything to do with.

  It is your parasite some days, in some ways your friend others. Yet maybe all only because it is always there.

   

  There is a proverb that goes, "And this too shall pass..." I being me, I always took this with more murky a tone than its supposed polar capability. Certainly in the sight of joy, it is a wistful reminder that it shall not stay. But even in hardship, it's said with the tone that implies a sort of acceptance. It shall pass because that is nature and, by nature, it shall come again, so that you shoulder it reveling the pain it inflicts since this is your normalcy and you yearn to feel.

  Yet I find this dichotomy interesting in light of a scenario that doesn't even allow its duality.

  • 8:30 pm
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