|Photo by Jessi LaRue|
I don't do that as often as I used to; a couple years ago I would sit and dwell on things until I cried, or worse, until I had a panic attack. It always starts out innocently enough, you start thinking about one thing, or one person, which causes you to think about another, and then another...It's kind of like aimless scrolling on Facebook or Instagram. You start scrolling and scrolling and an hour later you have no idea how you got to that particular page. And there's no reason to still be scrolling, yet here you are.
But when it happens in your head, it's not a great place to be.
Even with analogies, some people will never understand what I'm talking about, and I consider them lucky. It's such a confusing place to describe. And although I've been teased and taunted for having these tendencies, I'm not afraid to write about it here. Why? It makes me feel better.
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I wish I wouldn't dwell on things, especially ten at a time.
My latest issue? (Well, one of them?) Facebook suggested that I "friend" an old friend. Not just any old friend, but a friend I was close to for more than a decade while we were growing up. As with some of my closest friendships from grade school, we didn't have a big, messy fallout, although now I think that would be easier to deal with. Much easier to deal with than the absent, quiet falling apart in which years go by and now it's too awkward to try again.
I saw the profile, and I saw a photo that looked like a bridal shower, and although we haven't spoken in years, it's weird to think that we don't share those experiences together, and we'll never have the chance again. Maybe it's something about big life experiences that are bittersweet. Surely there was a reason we drifted apart. Why does it matter so much now? Does it even really matter at this point, five years later?
I'll never know.
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I have times when I'm ridiculously content. Like the past few weeks. I've been happy with work, my family, my personal life, my projects. Then boom, I'm hit with a ferocious sensation of doom. Sure, I'd prefer the occasional melancholy over constant frustration and aching, but I wish it wouldn't happen at all.
Or is this how it happens for most people? After all, I couldn't be happy all the time. Perhaps it's my soul balancing itself out -- you need something to measure your success and happiness against. Maybe this temporary feeling is to help me gauge how good I've got at other times, and to ensure that I never take those times for granted. Perhaps there's a bigger lesson to be learned here.
Perhaps no matter how many friendships fall by the wayside, no matter how many times you feel like you just aren't quite "there" yet, perhaps it's all only temporary.