I always feel like other people are better at being hurt and disappointed than I am. I judge this by how rarely I see people crying on the floor. That makes little sense, considering I can only remember crying on the floor once in my adult life, but I am determined to believe there’s some kind of secret to managing feelings that everyone but me knows.
I look at other people and admire the way they seem to just carry on. I guess I do the same, but it feels less heroic.
I also imagine that other people are not bothered by the petty little things I sometimes let drag me down. Simple observation proves this false. In fact, I’m often surprised by the way some people are not self aware enough to realize how petty they’re being or aren’t controlled enough to keep those thoughts inside where they cause less harm to others.
But I also kind of admire them for putting all of that ugliness on display, trusting that other people will understand and forgive them.
I get obsessive about doing the exact right thing. Understanding things as they really are, being fair to everyone involved, and justifying my every word. I think that if I find the right way to think about it all, then it won’t hurt, and if I do all the right things, then everything will work out for the best.
It just doesn’t work that way. And that’s when I admire the people who are less careful with their words and don’t worry so much about being fair.
There are real limits to empathy and even if you accept on an intellectual level that people feel the same way that you do, it is hard to really understand that pain when you’re not experiencing it yourself. It is hard even to recall the real depth of it after it has passed through your life.
I suppose what I’m getting at is not understanding the pain of others, but understanding your own pain. Not even the big blows, but just the everyday difficulties of being a human being. I keep looking to other people, because it seems like they know what they’re doing. I want to grab a notebook, sit down with a pen, and ask, “How are you doing that?” Except, I don’t think I want the real answers.
So instead I read fiction and think of all the non-answers provided in existential thought and talk to people and write about my feelings and drink a lot of tea.
Written: November 2011.
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
Resilience is the word. It was a topic that had my attention last year when I wrote of my feelings after personal set backs. People around me were astounded that my emotional state did not seem to change during my daily life.Psychology is my thing so I was naturally intrigued by their comments. I read many books that tried to understand this phenomena.The link under was the best that I found that might give you an insight to your own daily battles.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Resilience-Practical-Solutions-Surviving-Difficult/dp/1854585444/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1311340038&sr=1-1
Sometimes, I think we are so very similar, Ashley. You can put in words what I am thinking. I’ve been in situations before when to others it looked like things were ‘easy’, even if they were not by any stretch of the imagination.
I fought many internal battles, but on the outside, it looked like I was handling everything so well. My response to inquiries was: I just carry on, because I don’t know what else to do.
I think many people that seem to have it together are really just on auto-pilot.
Resilience is a good word (thanks, Jeff). I think you and I need to read this book.
So last night I cried on the floor. In the closet! Just thought the timing of me reading this is funny and then it got funnier when I saw that it was written in 2011.
Oh, BFF. For being a quick walker, it’s odd how alike we are. I read this and feel like I need to bookmark it and send it to people later to show how my mind works. I too often want to sit down with a notebook and ask people “how do you do that?”