slackerinabox
Lifer
I got into a weird conversation yesterday with my roommate that triggered quite a few thoughts in my strange, perverse head. We were scrubbing our floors when Phoebe was grossed out by a dried on patch of crud - I dug right in and scrubbed it away while saying "not very many things gross me out." She corrected me and said that I get grossed out by strange things but that things that should gross me out do not. My reply "it takes a lot to gross you out once you've seen a dead baby" was a reminder of all of the issues I have bubbling under my seemingly ironic and jokey exterior.
I moved on from that conversation quickly and continued to scrub the floors, but I kept on thinking, up until my subway commute this morning - I really do have a lot of things that should be eating away at me yet I don't have that anger/sadness that I used to when I was younger. Yes, my nephew's death was perhaps the most traumatic experience of my life, but the last time I cried about it was during his funeral. My abusive father's exploits may have left my sister with a broken wrist and with lots of hostilities toward him, but me? I just try to be an intellectual about it and empathize - "he was raised in a different culture. He didn't know better!"
I keep telling myself - "he should have known better. There's no excuse." but I can't be angry about it, though I think I should. I have a temper - some have seen it. I can't stand people disrespecting me or people I care about and have a special place in my heart for people who try to take advantage of me since I'm so "nice." I turn into a vicious and viscerally charged beast at times but, aside from those rare occurrences, I'm the low-key and funny guy who's dark sense of humor probably means that I'm really a repressed ball of anger who uses humor and empathy as defense mechanisms.
I don't know if it's healthy or the opposite. My dad wears his anger on the surface and, like me, my mother keeps it locked inside and explodes, in righteous manners usually, when she feels the need to. She controls her anger and my dad lives by his. My sister's the exact same way - always screaming and getting into fights for trivial manners, while I usually crack up over things that drive her blood pressure up. I don't know which is better, honestly. The problem is that it leaves my emotions in this murky sense of confusion. I couldn't cry at a relative's funeral yet couldn't stop crying during "The Lake House." A movie about time-crossed lovers caused a near emotional breakdown while the loss of my mom's brother-in-law left me emotionless.
I was cleaning my apartment when I found old letters I wrote to my exes in the past. "Did I ever tell you that you're my precious puppy?" "I miss you so much - I can't wait to hold you and kiss you and cuddle with you!" I can't believe that I used to be so silly, gooey and "gay." Though I miss that - I feel like I'm incapable of being that close with someone because this state of emotional constipation. People have seen me as cynical and I don't believe that I am - I care about things. I'm passionate about causes, both social and political. I love art. I love the idea of people. But I can see how my repression can make me see cold and apathetic, and I find that sad. I used to be this joyful, spirited person and now I feel like a boring shadow of my former self. I feel the older I get the more distant I am from my emotions.
I think being aware of the roots is a good thing... But I've always been self aware, I'm just not sure how to deal with any of this. Any thoughts?
I moved on from that conversation quickly and continued to scrub the floors, but I kept on thinking, up until my subway commute this morning - I really do have a lot of things that should be eating away at me yet I don't have that anger/sadness that I used to when I was younger. Yes, my nephew's death was perhaps the most traumatic experience of my life, but the last time I cried about it was during his funeral. My abusive father's exploits may have left my sister with a broken wrist and with lots of hostilities toward him, but me? I just try to be an intellectual about it and empathize - "he was raised in a different culture. He didn't know better!"
I keep telling myself - "he should have known better. There's no excuse." but I can't be angry about it, though I think I should. I have a temper - some have seen it. I can't stand people disrespecting me or people I care about and have a special place in my heart for people who try to take advantage of me since I'm so "nice." I turn into a vicious and viscerally charged beast at times but, aside from those rare occurrences, I'm the low-key and funny guy who's dark sense of humor probably means that I'm really a repressed ball of anger who uses humor and empathy as defense mechanisms.
I don't know if it's healthy or the opposite. My dad wears his anger on the surface and, like me, my mother keeps it locked inside and explodes, in righteous manners usually, when she feels the need to. She controls her anger and my dad lives by his. My sister's the exact same way - always screaming and getting into fights for trivial manners, while I usually crack up over things that drive her blood pressure up. I don't know which is better, honestly. The problem is that it leaves my emotions in this murky sense of confusion. I couldn't cry at a relative's funeral yet couldn't stop crying during "The Lake House." A movie about time-crossed lovers caused a near emotional breakdown while the loss of my mom's brother-in-law left me emotionless.
I was cleaning my apartment when I found old letters I wrote to my exes in the past. "Did I ever tell you that you're my precious puppy?" "I miss you so much - I can't wait to hold you and kiss you and cuddle with you!" I can't believe that I used to be so silly, gooey and "gay." Though I miss that - I feel like I'm incapable of being that close with someone because this state of emotional constipation. People have seen me as cynical and I don't believe that I am - I care about things. I'm passionate about causes, both social and political. I love art. I love the idea of people. But I can see how my repression can make me see cold and apathetic, and I find that sad. I used to be this joyful, spirited person and now I feel like a boring shadow of my former self. I feel the older I get the more distant I am from my emotions.
I think being aware of the roots is a good thing... But I've always been self aware, I'm just not sure how to deal with any of this. Any thoughts?
