Monday, July 30, 2012

Fits of Melancholy

I'm still writing and post dating the publish option so it will show up later. I still haven't left home for the road trip. Sometime tomorrow I expect to be out of here. I have to be far away, up the state to pick up the crate for my nephew. Printing plate machine.

If I don't get out, I'll be compelled to write for maybe 24 hours straight. It is m best defense against what idle isolation can do to me. Or even not so idle isolation.

Lately, I've been a little more social in some ways, so these few days of alone time began to show hints of old habits, and morbid thinking.

The people who have been the most hateful toward me in the last few years seem to have been irked mostly because of their unreasonably high opinions which flipped into unreasonably low opinions. The common thread is that they seemed upset because they assumed I had a high opinion of myself, which they had finally concluded was unfounded, then upon my assertion that I was pretty certain of both my worthlessness, and my right to be worthless, their ire flamed up even more intensely.

The other common thread is that the riffs were about me when I did not even want any of the interaction with these people to be about me. They moved the discourse in that direction. Other than being pretty sure I harbor fewer ill feelings and wishes toward others than most people do, I have little true confidence in my assessments of my own worth or lack of it.

For the most part, I have minimal trust in affection; whether it is felt by me or toward me. This is a curse which I may never succeed in breaking. I try from time to time. I also find that the sort of people who fuel that kind of confusion have been drawn into my life at intervals. It rings of the childhood frustration of being punished, beaten, or oppressed "because we love you". Often in response to situations in which I was merely an innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time, or in no way connected.

The sad thing is when confusion of this nature leaves those who come in peaceful affection baffled, hurt and feeling rejected. By "peaceful affection", I mean they seem to enjoy liking me for what they think I am, and don't make big efforts to remake me in their image.

I have concluded I'm pretty screwed up, but have managed to find ways to compensate, and to minimize the troubles I cause. I'd be so much better off if I'd stayed married at a young age. It may not have lasted, but I think it may have helped things. Then again, maybe not. It is just that life is far better with a woman around who is on your side, and who is not overtly insane. believe it or not, that combo is less common than one might think. At least in my case. But I have faith that one day I won't run the potential mate off for no good reason. Who knows? I have to ignore the ticking clock. I'm here now, regardless of how many days prior to this I was here.

So, either I write or I get cracking on all the chores which must be done so I can be on the lovely open road.

I should emphasize that the above mentioned conflicts are very few and far between. It gives me pause, though, because I thought I'd mastered the defect that has brought such strife into my life. It has happened less and less often as the years pass, and I believe that is because I've learned better how to dodge, avoid, and escape such things.

Even so, the couple of situations I do recall from the last five years do cause me some distress. And that in itself is probably an error on my part. Once you see how a pattern works, and you aren't going to change the other person's philosophy or mode of behavior under a certain set of circumstances, it becomes clear that the only way to avoid the unpleasant game is to not participate. Just don't be there.

I don't harangue others about how they battle their personal demons, and I think I am fairly good at not crossing boundaries uninvited. Some people do not get that distinction; when it is polite to knock, and when it is OK to enter.

Maybe I'm not really useless and a waste. I'm not with the IRS, and I'm not the current president of Mexico, or governor of California. Life, time, and so much else are purely relative. Hmmm, how much else is there really?

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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