J e s u s

When people tell me that they don’t understand the things I write/talk about I know that the only reason they don’t get me is that they don’t understand themselves in the first place. When dealing with me some feel confused about me, some feel frustrated by me, some dislike me, some quite like me—but if they cared enough most of them, I think, would be somewhat fascinated by (their idea of) me. Paradoxically, the less separate I feel from them (us) the more separate they seem to feel from me. The less there is of me and the more I loosen & relax into (us as) life they tend to project more and more of their issues onto me. In other words, people relate to people like me exactly the way they relate to life. It’s not personal at all. It’s just weird.

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Confessions Of A Recovering Melancholic

I love wallowing in blue bouts of self-pity. I love melancholy. Because it feels reassuring, to put it tersely. Self-pity is but a way of re-assuring the cherished idea that I have about meself. Fact of the matter is: the bittersweet blue molasses of melancholy and the overall sluggishness that accompanies it feels so deeply soothing precisely because that is my preferred way of maintaining a sense of separateness. Others have other ways of dismissing the truth [of our being] I happen to be choosing the sweet asphyxiating molasses of melancholy. To be honest, though, I’ve always thought that my melancholy was in fact the truth in the guise of a bit sad but still small voice—until the recent recognition that for the most part it’s merely my ego’s way of re-assuring itself and its sense of separateness. I saw at once that I’m heavily addicted to it too. When the going gets tough the compulsion to scamper back into its insulating confinement and then allow my harried self to mellow the duck out feels quite overwhelming at times. Once there, I’m on cloud 9, no doubt. The outside of it does feel unsafe but on the flip side the inside of it feels cosy and refreshingly familiar—I loves the sense of being taken back there, no matter the depth of isolation.

TRYST

friend or foe: pick your choice

apparently there is no middle-ground
for people with low self-reliance

woe is me: I got cornered by a needy person
demanding me dance with their strings attached

ok,
in the corner
here is what I came up with:

trust & respect is the currency
that sustains social transactions

trust is the fuel the propels social dynamics
(breach of trust renders it dysfunctional)

trust pivots on transparency

once I let guilt get triggered in me
and snap out of poise
I cave in to the pressure to appease & seek approval
and by the same token
I jeopardize trust & respect

the backbone of the relationship collapses and it degenerates into something mushy and vague

the interactions become contrived

and here is the deal:

letting yourself be bullied into seeking approval and giving up your resolve is something you should resent yourself more for than others

once you find yourself in this predicament there is only one way FORWARD: you have to address the issue head-on and communicate it openly with the parties involved
with this you’ll probably incur even more resentment
but at least transparency gets restored and the relationship is “saved” from blurring into the murk of dumb antagonism

monkey wrench

“communicational closure” is a given
it is translation all the way down:
I say SOME thing
you hear SOME thing
where SOME is specific to the individual
(shared in a few but not all aspects)

there is a tragic and a comic element to this
but
when someone says something out of insecurity
in essence to please the other (& fill the silence)
and the other
misinterpreting the comment as a challenge of sorts
responds out of insecurity
to save face or maintain/enhance self-image
that’s beyond tragic or comic
it’s just plain absurd
it’s as absurd as it can get

you say X and they say X’
where X is but a superfluous crutch
deployed to cope with the threat of potential rejection
or being in some way negatively judged
which (the specter of judgment) is called into being
by the very (f)act of (needing to) saying X to begin with

this is pure absurdity
we keep throwing wrenches in the machine
in order to keep it functioning smooth