Unloading the Gun

I realize that if I don’t begin to release some of the emotions that I am feeling right now, I may explode into a million pieces. That would result in a very messy cleanup and my workplace is not interested in shutting down the office long enough to let the hazardous materials cleaners in to remove the macabre stains on the walls.

I sympathize with pain. I’ve experienced the feeling of a hand breaking through your chest, wrapping long spindly fingers around the bloody mass of a heart, and ripping it out. I’ve battled with depression. I’ve heard the person who gave birth to me tell me that I was the reason she took pills, and that she hated me. It was “all my fault.” I was tortured in school by a bunch of ridiculous girls who told the class that I had multiple personalities– and that I was just like my mom. I contemplated suicide in 7th and 11th grade. I fell in love with a boy that I worshiped, and he broke my heart and never spoke to me again. That, to date, was the worst pain. The night he dumped me, I drove 1 hour to see him, bought his dinner, then he dumped me. We cried for 4 hours, I threw up, and then I had to drive 1 hour home in an ice storm to a dorm room that was literally 90 degrees. I had the flu for a week. I had a less than great childhood. I was the “mom” for many years. I watched my parents do drugs. Sometimes they sold them. My mother went to jail, wrecked the car, was in rehab 6 times, overdosed and had to have her heart restarted, blamed me, and I had to pick up the pieces.

This doesn’t make my pain superior to anyone else, but I believes that it verifies that I have felt at least some degree of pain before. I had to learn to pick myself off the ground and make decisions to fight against the torrential currents of destruction. My childhood has taught me some valuable life lessons:

1. You ALWAYS have the choice to rise above the current situation.

2. Rising above the current situation doesn’t always mean a socioeconomic change, or a financial change, or a geographical change. However, it can always mean an internal change. You can ALWAYS choose integrity. Honesty. Class. Maturity.

3. A “Pity Party” is only acceptable for so long. If you wallow, you’re not showing integrity. You can always choose to fight.

4. Pain and emotions are completely valid. One person’s pain is not diminished because you do not understand it. Every person has a different tolerance level. I may be able to handle a larger amount of strife. Or vice versa.

5. In lieu of #4, this abolishes the whole “you just don’t understand” statement. You may NOT understand. However, you can understand pain and emotions. You can remain supportive even if you don’t personally know what it’s like to _____.”

6. Therefore, for a person to cling to the “you just don’t understand” statement and refuse to allow another person into your bubble long enough to at least be supportive, then you are throwing a “pity party” that has been going on too long.

In conclusion, I say this. It’s OKAY to hurt. It’s natural and necessary. But, you have to start on the healing process sometime. Bitterness is too easy to cling to, and trust me, it’s not worth it. If you never allow anyone in, then you’re going to be very lonely indeed. That’s something I can relate to.


One response to this post.

  1. Posted by joharp on April 9, 2008 at 5:51 pm

    I honestly don’t know what to say, but I do feel like I need to comment. When I read the title, I was planning on saying something along the lines of “So you finally bought a handgun” or something of that nature, but that line of humor would be a bit misplaced. We both understand the concept of the “pity party” more than someone our ages should. I would even speculate that our mother took drugs to the point that she permanently forgot that she wanted pity. In the end it is for the best though, she doesn’t look for pity and as a corollary no longer needs to take drugs or be an hypochondriac. Like I have said before, our childhood sucked, but it has made both of us stronger people. We might have stronger emotions (FYI I have contemplated suicide also) but we also get to enjoy them. We live life to the fullest, or at least to our content, not societies.

    I would also like to say thank you for your blog about my bloggerification. It is good to hear encouraging comments on my writing. Without sounding like the obligatory gesture, I enjoy reading your work. I am amazed at how emotionally we still live similar lives even though we are now in different places (geologically and in our lives), different social settings, and with different obligations and commitments.


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