Half Empty

You know, lately this has become a repository for musings that are, shall we say, less than positive.  Maybe that is because inspiration often comes to me when I am in those dark places.  However, it has come to my attention that if I want to really challenge myself, I should try and find positive things to write about whenever I end up stranded on the island of isolation in my own head.  I need to try that sometime.

One thing it is imperative to understand about me is that I am generally a congenial, civil person.  It is primarily in this space that I spill forth the demons and darkness that sometimes bubble to the surface.

You see, I have surprisingly little faith in my own ability to do good things, although I never give up trying.  So that’s good, right?  Had a discussion this evening in which I finally uncovered why I consider myself far less a good person… when presented with a situation in which I may do something without fear of consequence, I often choose the path that I know is ethically and/or morally wrong, as long as it satisfies my curiosity or impulses.  Now consider that for a minute.  That’s pretty ugly when you get down to it.  I need to refocus and learn to live my life as if someone important to me is always watching.  Because, chances are, even if they aren’t, they’ll find out soon enough.

A bizarre habit I have is, when I am excited about something or someone, I make up scenarios that are negative outcomes, so that if things go badly, I am not disappointed.  It is the exact opposite of my sister, who builds her anticipation to such a point that she is often disappointed when things do not go as she hoped.  The weird thing is that, by assuming the worst, I put myself in such a dour mood that I can’t possibly enjoy anything when it happens.  Quite a little self-defeating and ineffectual defense mechanism, huh?

For example, my friend (let’s christen her Ooma for the purposes of blogging about her – Object Of My Affection) is a wonderful person with whom I can not possibly spend enough time, for my liking.  Ooma is everything I have always wanted: kind, encouraging, beautiful inside and out, compassionate.  But instead of simply cherishing the time we do get to be together, instead of looking forward to the time I get to spend with her, I feel devastated by the time I don’t get to spend with her.  So, I imagine her doing something to hurt me.  Why?  Because then I won’t miss her so much.  Problem is, then I begin resenting her.  And here is the kicker… SHE HASN’T DONE ANYTHING!!  Pretty absurd isn’t it?

And that little quirk has messed me up more than any other.  Make the imaginary real by embracing emotions you have manufactured in your own mind.  It’s like existential masochism.  Pain avoidance by inducing pain on your own terms.  What needs to happen is to find a way to deal in a healthy manner with my own loneliness.  I am surrounded by wonderful people, but still feel lonely, and I have a nagging suspicion that it is self-induced.  I feel lonely because I WANT to feel lonely.

And for some reason, I always imagined myself an optimist… weird, huh?


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