Pissed
So. I'm pissed off and I'm actually saying it out loud. Of course many of my friends and colleagues this week may have already gleaned this information from the apparent scowl I wore on my already lined face this entire week. Seriously though: I couldn't believe how many times I was told how tired I looked. At one point I sighed in the hallway, without even realizing it, because I was looking for my keys and couldn't find them. Another passing colleague said, "Grumpy today?"
Yes. I am grumpy.
I typically try in earnest to not pass that kind of energy around, but I think my face often belies my intentions. But yes, dammit, this week got to me. Bad. So much so that I heard the incessant complaining spewing forth from my mouth to whomever would sit still long enough to listen, willing or not. Hearing myself whine makes me even more upset, thereby doing little to abate my pressing mood.
I often feel targeted anytime I am less-than-joyous, like somehow my off mood is worse than the average person's. What worries me is that there might be a major disconnect between how I think I'm presenting and how I must be presenting. Am I really a jerk without even realizing it? Alternatively, perhaps I'm just not presenting a bad mood often enough that friends think it out of the ordinary to a degree requiring interrogation and commentary. I'd like to think the latter is truer.
In any case, I struggle to own my negative feelings and work (almost too hard) to make them go away quickly, quietly, and to everyone's convenience. But sometimes I wonder if I'm just delaying and compounding an emotional reaction, much like Frank Constanza shouting "SERENITY NOW" to the universe. This behavior pattern also exacerbates issues within relationships, because I'd rather not upset my partner by bothering them with my unhappiness.
After all, why should I be unhappy? I'm a white, privileged, cis-gendered male in a patriarchal society that values a strong work ethic and independent spirit. I have no right to complain, no right to be upset, because there are so many others suffering, oftentimes needlessly. My problems are small, manageable compared to so many others on this planet. So what, Eric: a boy broke your heart a few months after your divorce? JOIN THE CLUB.
But this attitude, this type of reductive emotional self-stunting is problematic. Why? Because I AM ALLOWED TO BE UPSET. It doesn't matter how many months have passed since my divorce, I can still be bothered by it. I can recognize that many people would love to have my job, any job, and still be allowed to find it frustrating when it is. Hell, I can even be upset that I might have to reenter my Apple ID an absurd number of times in a week to get iMessage to work across my devices (granted: that one shouldn't sting for too long). But seriously: fuck you, Apple.
I often contemplate this disconnect and wonder if it stems from a place of feeling unworthy. If I think about why I have stayed in relationships that were problematic, oh like, dating a guy for two months whom I absolutely hated kissing, I am forced to wonder why HE broke up with ME. Why didn't I just (like Liz Lemon would say) SHUT IT DOWN and move on with my life? I would tell anyone else that life is too short to keep kissing someone who sucks at it, so why do I do it?
Yet, I'm the guy who stays. I'm the one who accommodates. I'm the one who doesn't want to upset you with my dark passengers.
Confronting this has been gut-wrenching, to the point where I even feel humiliated by my own actions. But, if I'm going to be honest, it's usually comes down to fear. I'm afraid to lose a guy I can (at minimum) tolerate because I am afraid there won't be anyone else after. I'm afraid to let go of the idea of...him...because I convince myself that there won't be another. I'm afraid of how my ex progresses in his new relationship because it's a clear reminder of feeling replaceable.
This post won't end with an uplifting message of realization, because on this topic, there isn't one yet. A process this intensive, this painful, begins with recognition and that's just about where I am. I've only just recognized that for someone who craves emotional honesty in a relationship, I am not an honest person. I'm only just starting realize the limitations I bring to a partner and why I'm not currently suited for one.
In short, I'm a mess. I'm pissed because I've had a hard week. And I'm sad that there's no one on my couch right now giving me a hug. It's the hard, cold fact of life that I am just going to have to deal with this shit on my own.
I know this post is emotionally raw so I will remind you again that I'm not writing this for your pity or sympathy. I think it's time more of us shared our souls because this is how we really connect and begin to feel less alone. I take great pride in knowing that I have cohorts on this journey, even though there is no real help to be offered. Just knowing that you're also out there, also thinking, also pushing forward: that's the gift I hope this gives.
And just in case you were wondering: he never called me back.
Yes. I am grumpy.
I typically try in earnest to not pass that kind of energy around, but I think my face often belies my intentions. But yes, dammit, this week got to me. Bad. So much so that I heard the incessant complaining spewing forth from my mouth to whomever would sit still long enough to listen, willing or not. Hearing myself whine makes me even more upset, thereby doing little to abate my pressing mood.
I often feel targeted anytime I am less-than-joyous, like somehow my off mood is worse than the average person's. What worries me is that there might be a major disconnect between how I think I'm presenting and how I must be presenting. Am I really a jerk without even realizing it? Alternatively, perhaps I'm just not presenting a bad mood often enough that friends think it out of the ordinary to a degree requiring interrogation and commentary. I'd like to think the latter is truer.
In any case, I struggle to own my negative feelings and work (almost too hard) to make them go away quickly, quietly, and to everyone's convenience. But sometimes I wonder if I'm just delaying and compounding an emotional reaction, much like Frank Constanza shouting "SERENITY NOW" to the universe. This behavior pattern also exacerbates issues within relationships, because I'd rather not upset my partner by bothering them with my unhappiness.
After all, why should I be unhappy? I'm a white, privileged, cis-gendered male in a patriarchal society that values a strong work ethic and independent spirit. I have no right to complain, no right to be upset, because there are so many others suffering, oftentimes needlessly. My problems are small, manageable compared to so many others on this planet. So what, Eric: a boy broke your heart a few months after your divorce? JOIN THE CLUB.
But this attitude, this type of reductive emotional self-stunting is problematic. Why? Because I AM ALLOWED TO BE UPSET. It doesn't matter how many months have passed since my divorce, I can still be bothered by it. I can recognize that many people would love to have my job, any job, and still be allowed to find it frustrating when it is. Hell, I can even be upset that I might have to reenter my Apple ID an absurd number of times in a week to get iMessage to work across my devices (granted: that one shouldn't sting for too long). But seriously: fuck you, Apple.
I often contemplate this disconnect and wonder if it stems from a place of feeling unworthy. If I think about why I have stayed in relationships that were problematic, oh like, dating a guy for two months whom I absolutely hated kissing, I am forced to wonder why HE broke up with ME. Why didn't I just (like Liz Lemon would say) SHUT IT DOWN and move on with my life? I would tell anyone else that life is too short to keep kissing someone who sucks at it, so why do I do it?
Yet, I'm the guy who stays. I'm the one who accommodates. I'm the one who doesn't want to upset you with my dark passengers.
Confronting this has been gut-wrenching, to the point where I even feel humiliated by my own actions. But, if I'm going to be honest, it's usually comes down to fear. I'm afraid to lose a guy I can (at minimum) tolerate because I am afraid there won't be anyone else after. I'm afraid to let go of the idea of...him...because I convince myself that there won't be another. I'm afraid of how my ex progresses in his new relationship because it's a clear reminder of feeling replaceable.
This post won't end with an uplifting message of realization, because on this topic, there isn't one yet. A process this intensive, this painful, begins with recognition and that's just about where I am. I've only just recognized that for someone who craves emotional honesty in a relationship, I am not an honest person. I'm only just starting realize the limitations I bring to a partner and why I'm not currently suited for one.
In short, I'm a mess. I'm pissed because I've had a hard week. And I'm sad that there's no one on my couch right now giving me a hug. It's the hard, cold fact of life that I am just going to have to deal with this shit on my own.
I know this post is emotionally raw so I will remind you again that I'm not writing this for your pity or sympathy. I think it's time more of us shared our souls because this is how we really connect and begin to feel less alone. I take great pride in knowing that I have cohorts on this journey, even though there is no real help to be offered. Just knowing that you're also out there, also thinking, also pushing forward: that's the gift I hope this gives.
And just in case you were wondering: he never called me back.
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