Ramblings of Silver Blue


21 Jul

It’s the same old song, but with a different meaning

Well, Akismet, thankfully, has now blocked over 46,000 pieces of comment and trackback spam. That’s freed up my time to do other things, like ramble stupidly about a book of photography, assorted weight loss techniques, lyrics to obscure songs you could find on the web, tired and trite jokes that a grade schooler would be ashamed to pass on, and the assorted friend or family member who’s ended up in the hospital or in the ground.

Yeah, it’s back down to earth day for Silver Blue. Not that I’m trying to be down on myself, or depressing, or whiny (though, I’m quite sure that I come across as all that and more) but…. Tink is doing her thing (Good luck, lady!); PR is in NC; I’m in the house with the shades drawn and the fan on high.

I was talking to a friend on the west coast yesterday and I said the thing that bothers me most, and the thing I know least about how to change, is my insecurity based on a feeling of inadequacy. (I can hear everyone now: Gawd, why don’t you just shell out more money and get professional help? We’re tired of hearing your problems!) Well, since this is my forum, and I’m on the soap box, sit down and shut up. Otherwise, move on to the next blog in your RSS reader.

Before I begin, allow me to state that if one more “Unavailable” call comes in where there’s no one on the other end of the line (and that won’t show up on *69) I will find a way to trace you down and dissect you with dirty lab tools. There’s a reason I don’t put my phone number out there.

Sorry, that was harsh. But it’s the 9th time today. Something’s gotta give, and if you don’t think the average person would snap, maybe I’m above or below average.

Anyway; I’m trying to decide what to make for dinner tonight. The thought of going out to eat isn’t appetizing, especially when it means that I’d have to be in the company of those I really don’t want to deal with right now. Yeah, I’m playing the avoidance game, and I’ll admit it. I’m playing situations over in my head, attempting to be nice, polite, and compassionate; what I really want to be is ruthless, blunt, and short tempered.

That’s not true, but I wondered how it would feel to say it. To give power to words and see if I felt anything inside, other than the numbness that has crept inside.

Guess what?

They were only words. They sparked no internal feelings whatsoever. No anger, no joy, no sadness, no elation, no nothing. When I was in school, I had a habit of imagining myself in an envelope of ice — where nothing anyone said or did could affect me; I’d be frozen. The problem with that is that it works both ways. I’d be frozen from their attacks, but I’m also frozen; frozen from experiencing happiness and good things.

So I started building up walls. In the beginning, I made it relatively easy for someone to circumnavigate my barricades that surrounded not only my heart but the inner core of my being as well.

But as the years progressed, and the more I became jaded, the higher and better fortified those walls became. The more barbed wire I strung. I even found a way to electrify it.

Why would I do this, you ask? Didn’t I realize that the same way I was keeping people from hurting me was keeping those who had my best interests in mind away from me?

The short answer was “Yes, I realized it.”

The longer answer was, “Yes, but it hurt less for me to be alone and unloved than to have someone, anyone, treat my heart as a doormat.”

Now, that doesn’t just mean romantically, people. I’m one of those people who, when they’re in it, are in it 110%. I am a dedicated friend; when told something in confidence, I keep it as such. Oh, sure, that used to not be the truth. But as my paranoia grew, the less I trusted anyone; myself included.

So, there are going to be times when I bemoan my solitude, even though I am the creator of my own prison, as it were. I put on an air of bravado when I must, and I’m relatively bold behind the keyboard, but I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I’m excessively thin-skinned.

Since I’m airing the bad parts about me, I tend to make excuses for those I care about when someone says something derogatory about them… but I reach a certain point and I can almost be spiteful in the way I treat them, once they’ve made me look a fool repeatedly. How’s that saying go? Some fools we suffer gladly, and others…. well, I don’t know how the rest of it goes.

There are certain things I don’t understand in life. Phrases, sayings . . . none of which mean a flying peanut butter sammich at the end of the day; I was in Gettysburg before I finally had someone explain what the hell the line “at sixes and sevens with you….” meant from Evita’s “Don’t Cry for me Argentina”; likewise, I never had been exposed to the saying that Kylie Minogue sings “Cos it’s true, what they say…it’s better the devil you know.”

Poor Tink had to give me the rest of that (which isn’t sung) “…than the devil you don’t.” Then it made sense to me. But I never wanted to seem less than everyone else’s intelligence, so I learned to laugh at the right times, nod approvingly, and keep my mouth shut. Hell, I was in a relationship with someone who, toward the end, continually put me down. These days, I wouldn’t have stood for it. I’d rather kill a dream than live a lie.

That’s where I am at the moment. To a lot of people, I’m living a lie. They think I’m happy, that I’ve got this or that or the other thing, when they don’t stop to think about what that is actually costing me. I laugh — last weekend I heard another song for the first time in years — “Sunshine” — which includes “how much does it cost? I’ll buy it. The time is all we’ve lost — I’ll try it…” of course, it also goes on with the affirmation “but he can’t even run his own life, I’ll be damned if he’ll run mine!”

So, I try to stay off-line when I get in these feelings; I try to play uplifting music, think happy thoughts, steer clear of alcohol and mirrors (both of which depress me, still!), and mediate in my “happy place.”

One of the songs I use to mediate (strangely enough, so don’t laugh) is the instrumental track to a Donna Summer song from 1980-ish. I found it at a yard sale/thrift store in 1988. This morning, when my head was awash and empty at the same time, I ran across that track online.

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I’m trying to create myself, while not repeating the same mistakes I’ve made in my previous 38 years. I’m afraid that if someone gets to know the real me, I mean the REAL me, I’ll drive them away, so that they run screaming in the night, in order to save themselves.

Self-esteem, boys and girls, is non-existent today. So, let me end here and look in my bag of tricks to see if, just by chance, I might have something enlightening that I’ll be able to share.

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