And Then There Are Some Days...



when I'm glad I am a social shut-in. There are a lot of misconceptions in the world that in the past years I've had to sort out; I can actually thank the media/Hollywood/the general tone of society for about 80% of my neuroticisms. I can thank them for my obsession with growing older, the solidified terror that I'm too old and when I hit 30 no one will want me and nothing will ever happen because all the cool things happen when you're 21. I can thank them for allowing myself to get groped by my long ago ex even though it hurt badly when he shoved his fingers up my vagina(I ended up bleeding, one time, I remember); I didn't have a right to say no (ah, stupid stupid youth) because I was his girl and I should please him. I can thank them for feeling like a freak for having solid morals, faith and spirituality, for expecting respect and equality. I can thank them for my fear of talking about mental disabilities because no one wants to talk about it, or understand it, or pretty much acknowledge its existance which led to a hell of a lot more pain than I had to withstand than if someone said to me, 'look, you have a problem its not a big deal but why don't you find a counselor?' rather than the, 'just get over it, I miss how you used to be, what's wrong with you? why can't you just get over it?' that I got instead which surprisingly did not help the situation.

If anything that I've taken away from my decade of being twenty-something is that I've spent nearly all of those ten years dismanteling all the shit the world feeds you and I'm lucky for it. Because no matter how bad it got, whatever happened to me, whatever someone said or did not say it is NOTHING in comparison to what other people have been through. I, at least, was fortunate to have the insight and intelligence to articulate something is wrong and how could I make it right? By actively seeking out knowledge about myself and world around me I think I am a better, more well-rounded, sane person for it. I think, ironically, that by spending my early twenties as a total shut-in it actually spared me some major grief that most people go through at that age.

Every time I think, oh crap look at the seven pounds of weight I've gained on my thighs, how disgusting - I can counter it with, would you be a better person with skinny thighs? would you be wiser, funnier, more popular, a more well-rounded person because your thighs are skinny? and some days it works and I believe there isn't anything wrong with my body and its just fine the way it is and some days a life-time of Barbie, Beer commercials and Hollywood Movies gets to me and I despair at my dimpled thighs (then think about how centuries ago being thin was a sign of illness and hey, the next famine we have I'll have a good chance of surviving)

Everytime I despair at the lack of social interaction that I'm supposed to be having (bars and parties and making out in an alley if television is anything to go by) I backtrack and think, what would you actually be doing if you went out to drink and hang out and party every other night? What conversations would you be having? Would it actually be fun to watch idiots get drunk and do stupid things on a weekly basis? Do you think you would you would discuss history and art and all the extraordinary things that make the world go round with people who devote their lives to being in a drunken stupor and having meaningless and often dangerous sexual relations? Is that was you really want? Or would it be better to cultivate the few relationships you have now and put more effort into people who actually exhibit self-awareness and care for themselves their bodies and the people around them? (which sadly they seem to be a very hard type o,f person to meet, at least in this city)

Some days I think I'm pretty well off if a little isolated and its just fine. Other days I keep myself up at night wondering what my life would have been if I'd done things differently. If I were more like my brother or my friends and charged the world like a bull and smoked pot and travled and gotten into stupid relationships and had sex with a bunch of different guys and done all the things that young women do today, who would I have been then? Would I be better off? Would it have been worse? Would I have been more successful? Would I be stuck in a loveless marriage with kids and a life that I hated but didn't know how to change? Would I have been famous? Happier? Crazier? Makes the theory of alternative worlds more interesting, who would you have been if circumstances had been just a little different.