It’s Not All About the Joy

This was something I jotted a little while ago, and have been very reluctant to place here. But it’s been enough of a recurring theme, at varying levels of intensity, that it’s worth it, I think. It’s mostly a low level thrumming in the background more, but recurrent and consistent, and just putting it down helps me to move forward in many ways. So there’s that.

*************

Just get through this. Endure. It’s a passing thing, temporary. These emotions, this negativeness, will pass. They always do. But they always return. Which is the truer state?

I am jealous sometimes. I am envious. I want, in this case, to be accepted, to go out and be able to hang out, have fun, to laugh with others. And in the same breath, I have to find a way to accept my loneliness, because I can’t. I can’t go out to a bar and hang out and laugh. I can’t go out with anyone anymore, it seems. The temptation to drink will be there, and it might overwhelm me, and so I am jealous. I want to actually enjoy those things, be able to go out, socialize, laugh, enjoy the bond of friendship, the presence of others. I want to be able to enjoy, truly enjoy a fine Scotch, too. But I can’t. It will take hold of me; the gentle, warm finger of Scotch will so quickly turn into the rusty claws raking iron nails along the muscles and tendons of my arms and hands, shaking them furiously. I have to remember that. And accept the loneliness of freedom from that dirty cage. This is scant comfort right now, though, and it reeks of despair on either side. That’s alright; I’ll take what I can get until I can get more.

I can’t concentrate; I can’t be distracted by study, or even idleness. My head fails me, and fills instead with the empty muck of this isolation.

I can see why people want to make an Other of this stuff, to be able to put it all off into It, hand over the care and be free of it. Instead, I bleakly look and see that this Other is none other than myself. I have no recourse but to take responsibility for my Self, and square up and face it. Often, this fills me with inspiration and a true sense of beauty, enough to take the next step forward, feel the wind of the world spinning. Not just now.

I rely too much on externals for my sense of well being. I need something less ephemeral; I need a me, self-constituted and comfortable, steady. I am not That.

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