Duck The Ducking Duckers.

Duck the ducking duckers (because auto-correct makes it funny).

misanthropic

The ‘meh’ has taken over. My aloof, callous, and somewhat misanthropic attitude has bubbled over. I’m not sure where or how it started, I only know that I reached emotional exhaustion. I don’t know how to describe it, but combined with a busy work schedule, busy social schedule, the bad news that is the media, and my own personal struggles… it all came crashing down.

I hate to be vague. I hate to be unable to pinpoint exactly what caused me to be so dour lately–nevermind my belief that resting bitch-face prevents wrinkles and keeps me pretty.

For now, let’s go through the roller-coaster and thought process and see if that helps.

It started with not being able to finish my third novel. Armini, the muse, died. Granted, the story is finished and at this point it’s really revisions that need to get done. There are plot elements, plot holes, and pacing to fix. For the first time in a long time, those concepts felt foreign. It was as if the writing part of me died. I can’t seem to make sense of it. I blamed work. Whether this is a comforting thought, or an excuse, I blame work. I’m having to learn new systems, new processes, and work long hours to accomplish a single task. It takes all my focus and I can feel it taking over my brain, suffocating my creativity.

Then came the sense that I couldn’t accomplish anything, that somehow it was all for naught. I stare and compare my life with others; their families, their kids, their elevated positions within society or work. And as I do this I suddenly remind myself this thought is vile and toxic. Yet, I can’t help it.

The next thoughts are about all my failures, the many ‘failures to launch’ aspirations and dreams. The many regrets. The many mistakes. I have nothing to show for overcoming anything.

The internet becomes infected with civil rights issues and ebola–social media explodes with articles and bad news and panic. My mind explodes with memories of “this has all happened before. History will repeat itself.” And with this come thoughts of the many wars, the plagues, the social conflicts, and the conflicts that will forever plague us as a species. I place myself in the shoes of a character–this is all fodder for a book, right? The mind of a writer never sleeps and perhaps it was my brain trying to cope with the situation. I imagine this character, living for so long, and being so overwhelmingly exhausted with living. So tired of seeing his many loved ones die…. tired of being cursed with what was once the gift of immortality. The many faces, the many familiar and recycled faces of loved ones. As time passes it stings to be reminded that no, they are not the same people despite appearances.

Finally, there, as I’m hanging out with my best friend, laughing over some movie we just saw, my mind goes numb. I’m still laughing, and talking, but a part of my brain has shut down. I’m interacting, smiling, and making others laugh… all while drowning. It’s a silent scream in a crowded room. I’m drowning but no one can see.

It didn’t help that the past few days I’ve felt less than adequate at my job-nevermind the opportunities granted to me and two others in our department. I should be flattered, but somehow it gets overshadowed. The peak was yesterday when I had to shadow someone. Now, I like to think I’m well-liked by my peers. That I have no problem with anyone I work with. They all know I’m gay, and yet I’m not the type that flaunts it. I’m not loud or obnoxious about it. I’m just human just like everyone else and my personal life is neither here nor there. But, yesterday I was surprised by someone’s reluctance to sit with me. And although I’d usually brush it off, it really burned me. Suddenly all these memories of high school came charging forward and it hurt. It was coupled with anger and frustration. I wanted to discorporate, fly out to outer space, scream, cry and just yell “WHY!? Why do we continue to squander so many things and be our own worst enemies? Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we allow ourselves to be consumed by fear and hate? Why? Why so many things?! How much longer??”

I’ve had these episodes before. I always dig myself out, so I’m not in any way concerned. I eventually reach the misanthropic stage and that’s where it stops. It’s from this point that I can dig myself out. It’s odd, I know. I dig myself out and I’m back to being that person that smiles silently when it rains. And that’s where I’m at right now. I’m on the upswing of this. Though I’m sure it won’t be the last and it’ll strike again in a few years.

So, I leave you with this:

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4 Responses to Duck The Ducking Duckers.

  1. LK Griffie says:

    So glad you’re back on the road to smiling at the rain and wishing for the Skittle rainbow.

  2. Not going to offer advice, you know yourself and Armini the Muse better than I can, but just reaching out to say how much I value you and your friendship (because we only meet online doesn’t change what a great friend you are to me!). Take care of *you* and Armini will wander back into the forefront, I’m sure. HUGS!

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