I'm furious. Seething. Filled with contempt. Bitter. I'm betrayed. I'm let down. I'm self loathing. I'm a coward. I'm emotionally freewheeling. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm confused. And I don't know why. Emotions have never been my strong suite. I lie to people to protect their feelings. I lie to people to protect myself. But I can't lie to myself. Not often. Small things I can. I can convince myself of a memory. Or an idea. But I can't beat myself into submission. I'm too strong. To quick. To thinking. And yet for all that power I am stuck in a loop. A vicious nasty feedback of fury, loathing, cowardice, anger, loneliness, bitterness, self deprecation, self deception, self denial, self enablement, self defeating, self inspiring. I am fine. Emotionally neutral. Sailing through the world, wrapped up in creativity and mental freedom through mental exertion.
And then something happens to shake that self delusion. And I crash into my emotions like a yacht into a hurricane. I get angry. I hold onto the anger, I feed it constantly through mental replays of the situation. I then don't deal with it, and so internalize it, and make it grow and fester until I am so detached from the object of my anger that the only way to deal with the anger is to wrap it up around the object and throw it away. Pretend it never happened. Bury it. Find a creative problem to drown my thoughts in, to squash any ideas that focus on the anger and the hurt. Until it happens again. And it does.
Right now I'm seething over an action some friends did. It wasn't directed at me, it wasn't to spite me. It was just them enacting their own frustrations and anger. It affected my world through. I saw it as an attack. As a giant FUCK YOU. I was being shafted by my friends. I felt betrayed. I felt angry. And then I felt a coward. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't raise it. I couldn't broach the subject. I still can't. This fucking writing is my passive way of expressing it. I am a coward. Too damned scared of what might happen should I express how I am feeling. Why? What possible outcome could there be? How horrific could it end up? Instead I alienate my friends. I drift away. Become obtuse. Until finally the friendship is stifled under a pillow of silent loathing.
And yet, the more I see it from their points of view - which I'm projecting as I haven't spoken to them - the more I realize that their actions were focused solely on their feelings. Feelings they were unable to articulate. They couldn't share either. They couldn't open up and tell me how they were feeling. My rage, my frustration, my sense of betrayal is ebbing. I wasn't betrayed. I was part of what I do all the time. I witnessed isolation. I was in a sense witnessing my own self, reflected in their actions. Perhaps that was why I was so angry. I was frustrated at their frustration. I was afraid I AM afraid that I am like them. Stuck.
OK. So I just chatted to the one person. Via gmail talk. Well chatted is the wrong word. I typed. I explained my frustrations. I told him what I was doing - isolating - and I told him I was sorry. I feel better now. Now just for the other one. That's going to be hard. She doesn't have gmail talk. I can't hide behind my screen. I guess I'll have to do it face to face. Oh dear non-existent deity help me.
I really have run out of blog. Having spoken - via via, shut the fuck up I know, but baby steps right? - about my anger towards him, I'm now oddly calm. I feel better. Relief. So. Maybe talking about how I feel honestly is a good thing.
What do you do? Be honest.
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