I try to keep my crying to myself. Doesn't do much good if I say, I try to keep my crying to myself; because, it sounds just like I'm crying out loud. Maybe I should be writing this in caps so you can hear the LOUD part or link this to some youtube of a crying baby. Baby. Is that what I am? A big baby? Maybe so. Maybe we are all a bunch of babies. We have our degrees and those subjective pain numbers we try to go by. And then we always see some story of someone else who's got is worse. The internet is where we can find the worser horror stories, and I think that if I read those stories, my pain will shrink a little--not. Baby maybe. But isn't it fascinating how little the physical becomes under these psychological dealings that become much more grand. As a man I have the DNA that says I should be at a job for 8 to ten hours. But my wife has to do that. She leaves for work every morning. I stay home to do the household chores...which doesn't bother me. I do them. It's my role. I can do them. No. I can't do them when I'm being tortured. So get to feel bad about that too. I give her repetitions of 'Sorry'--she tells me she doesn't want to hear it. I guess 'Sorry' is not really for the other. We say it to ourselves, not a 'Sorry' in a nice tone but in self-beratement. In our Western World of working hard and getting things done and having a clean and arranged house and car and... we who are stomped down by our own bodies, we feel as if we have become some lesser person who can't get it together, who can't get healing, who don't have enough faith, who are doing this on purpose because we are lazy and thus good for nothing. Once-in-a-while we all have someone or a friend try to help by telling us all the ways we just need to get it together. And boy does it hurt. And boy do we want to hurt them back. But notice, as you replay their mean words (how many times have you?), in your head, you find that it's all the same stuff you've been telling yourself the whole time. Guess it hurts more because they have only confirmed what you've been saying to yourself anyways. It all seems true at times: crying like a big baby; until, your body is run through that torture device again. And again you are reminded that you really do have some problems and pain. That it ain't all just in your head. That even trying to type this is difficult when the levers on my rack are being pulled right now. So there's my belly aching and blather for today. I will try to keep the rest of my crying to myself the rest of the day.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Always Sorry
I try to keep my crying to myself. Doesn't do much good if I say, I try to keep my crying to myself; because, it sounds just like I'm crying out loud. Maybe I should be writing this in caps so you can hear the LOUD part or link this to some youtube of a crying baby. Baby. Is that what I am? A big baby? Maybe so. Maybe we are all a bunch of babies. We have our degrees and those subjective pain numbers we try to go by. And then we always see some story of someone else who's got is worse. The internet is where we can find the worser horror stories, and I think that if I read those stories, my pain will shrink a little--not. Baby maybe. But isn't it fascinating how little the physical becomes under these psychological dealings that become much more grand. As a man I have the DNA that says I should be at a job for 8 to ten hours. But my wife has to do that. She leaves for work every morning. I stay home to do the household chores...which doesn't bother me. I do them. It's my role. I can do them. No. I can't do them when I'm being tortured. So get to feel bad about that too. I give her repetitions of 'Sorry'--she tells me she doesn't want to hear it. I guess 'Sorry' is not really for the other. We say it to ourselves, not a 'Sorry' in a nice tone but in self-beratement. In our Western World of working hard and getting things done and having a clean and arranged house and car and... we who are stomped down by our own bodies, we feel as if we have become some lesser person who can't get it together, who can't get healing, who don't have enough faith, who are doing this on purpose because we are lazy and thus good for nothing. Once-in-a-while we all have someone or a friend try to help by telling us all the ways we just need to get it together. And boy does it hurt. And boy do we want to hurt them back. But notice, as you replay their mean words (how many times have you?), in your head, you find that it's all the same stuff you've been telling yourself the whole time. Guess it hurts more because they have only confirmed what you've been saying to yourself anyways. It all seems true at times: crying like a big baby; until, your body is run through that torture device again. And again you are reminded that you really do have some problems and pain. That it ain't all just in your head. That even trying to type this is difficult when the levers on my rack are being pulled right now. So there's my belly aching and blather for today. I will try to keep the rest of my crying to myself the rest of the day.
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