vaxjedi | More Self-Indulgent Crap (Reply)

People think I am too quiet. Eleri says I do not say enough. Several people have accused me of needing to grow a spine.

I cannot speak out. There is too much. There is so much in my mind. The fragile bone and sinew that holds together this so-called mortal shell cannot, will not, contain the collateral shockwave that would accompany the expression of what is inside of me.

I am quiet. Out of fear. Out of depression. Out of disappointment. Out of phase. I cannot do it/me justice. And what I can utter... is so little, is such an insignificant mote that to let it out of my mouht is not worth the shitstorm that will ensue.

Every moment, I am on the edge of raging out of control, the cusp of wailing into the night in pain and despair, an inch away from immolating myself in a pire of energy and passion and pain and darkness.

And I know that it won't mean anything. That it will just look like another self-absorbed wannabe with a desperate need to be important. And maybe that is all it would be. Angst is self-indulgent, after all. In 5 years time, none of it would matter anyway.

So, I stay quiet. I have always stayed quiet. I bide my time until I can let out a moan here, a cry there. Maybe that will reduce the pressure. Maybe I won't have to deal with waves of sanctimony, even from those who know me best.

I started off as a boy who just wanted to Do The Right Thing.

I believed in God because I thought that was Good. I so believed in that if you are Good, then everything will be Okay. To the point that decided that if I were Good, it didn't matter if I believed in God. I was a Good person after all.

And I did good in school. That's what Good boys do, right? I listened to my teachers, I did my homework. I wanted my father to know I was a Good boy, for I adored my father above all things.

And he went away. My sister and mother fell into more despair. I didn't know any different. I was watching TV. And TV was telling me to be Good. I learned my basic morality from the TV. And you know what? I wasn't taught to be an automaton. I learned honestly, and acceptance, and thinking for yourself. I learned wit from Bugs Bunny. I learned bravery from Battlestar Galatica. I learned consideration from the Fonz and Richie Cunningham. I learned strength from reruns of Bruce Lee movies. I learned honor from Optimus Prime.

I became a teenager. I found out the man I adored was the worst type of monster. I found mysef with a stepfather who did not understand me in a town with no friends. But I was still trying to be Good. I tried to do my homework. I tried to do my chores. But the darkness within me had taken root. I started therapy when I was 14 because my step-father required it. He said I didn't listen. That I was arrogant.

Eventually, someone pointed out that there was more to life than school. I found friends, I found other things. But I was still trying to be Good. I still obsessed over my grades. I had to get to college. That's what Good teenagers did, isn't it? Go to college. I took pills so I could stay Good. Not illicit ones, but medically perscribed ones. I was a Good person, after all. I got strange anyway.

I got to college. You know, I had never considered what I would do then. I had to push to get to college. Now I was there. And I could not do it. Too much darkness in me. Too many reasons to be disappointed. Too many things I couldn't do. I wasn't Good. I found Goodness in my differences, even more than before. I found that I was Good even if I was Strange. Because I found others who felt the same. But still I struggled. I had to be Good for every person I could.

But I kept faling my parents. And my professors. I was never a Good student. I was always a disppointment. They could never understand the darkness in me. Even some of my closest friends did not. They accused me of wasting the money financial aid had given me - that others, like themselves, would do more with it than I.

I left college because the college said I wasn't Good and couldn't stay. I stumbled. I came home to my parents, because I had no where else to go. And they reminded me that I was not Good. That they didn't understand why I wasn't Good. And I couldn't explain to them why. They could not understand the darkness. I could not explain it, only endure it. I could not explain my Strangeness. I could not explain the fact that I wore my mismatching shoes around them was not a sign of disrespect, but a sign of closeness. That I couldn't around my father because he did not understand. He was not safe and they were. But to them, I was a Strangeness they had to endure.

I found a job, thanks to a friend. I tried to be Good. I was a burden on my friend. But I tried to be Good. When I felt I was strong enough, I went back to college to finish my degree. If I didn't finish, it would have been just another disappointment. Another failure and another step into the darkness.

I went back, and tried to be Good. I still could not be the student I needed to be. Nor could I be the support for the woman I loved who needed it most. Nor a Master for the woman I wanted the most to please.

I graduated from college, sorta. But I hadn't learned much. I had tried every way I could think of to find my way, to be Good with the maddening inablity to be responsible. And I had gotten through on the charity of several professors.

And then I came to Oregon. And I tried to be a Good friend. And a Good lover. And then all of a sudden a Good husband and a Good father. I don't see how anyone can be a Good father. People aren't set up for the wisdom, foresight and patience that is needed. Well, at least I'm not. I'm on the edge of losing control every day. So close to snapping. But I must be Good.

And I'm working. I have duties and a title and things to get done. So I work hard, but it never feels like I am working hard enough. I am trying to be a Good employee. I want my boss to think I am a Good employee. I want my coworkers to think I am a Good peer. I don't want to be one of those people that everyone talks about behind their back. I hear it constantly. So-and-so is a slacker. So-and-so never does their job. So-and-so isn't qualified. By the Gods, what are they saying about me? I have to work harder, longer so that they can't. So that they say I'm Good.

And the thing is, I don't know what Good is anymore. I have no idea if Im fucking up my kids, or my wife, or my friends. So I have to err on the side of caution. I have no idea if I am giving enough to my household. So I must give more, must minimize what I take. I have no idea if I am working hard enough, pulling my weight. So I must work more. Just in case.

I must be Good. Because I've been found wanting. Because I have been inadequite and disappointing and a drain on those around me. I must be Good, I must make up for it. I cannot fail again.

Does anyone else have this problem? The pressure, all around. The need to be Good. I feel the weight on me from all directions, constantly crushing me. Every need that someone throws at me. Every request. Every plea. Giving is Good. I understand that I'm supposed to save some for myself, but I do not know where that line is. I cannot tell when I must give and when I must hold back. So I must give, just in case. Just for the possibility of being Good.

And I have this little baby daugther. And I look at her and wonder how many ways will I end up screweing her up? Will she end up in therapy because of me? How many ways will she resent me, even though I am trying my best to be Good for her, even though I do not know what the hell that means?

People are waiting for me. They want me to run a game. I was ready for it. Until this hit me. The games don't mean much to me anymore. They are just distractions. Brief respites. And they leave me hollow. They don't bring me the joy they used to.

And I can't eat. I got my wisdom teeth out. So I can't eat properly. And I've discovered that not being able to eat properly sends me into a depressive spiral. I had the same problem when I had my throat surgery. In the middle of a time when all the stresses in my life are hitting me at once - I can't even have the pleasure of eating. I never realized how much I used eating to ground me out - to bolster myself just a little bit so I could continue. Maybe that's why I am so fat. And I can't eat properly right now. And it's driving me batty. I would kill right now for a grilled cheese sandwich.

*sigh* People are waiting for me. People are always waiting for me.