At the very least, it is and it isn’t all at once. But really, there’s an unmistakable element of pure, unmitigated carnivore-poop (the worst kind, presumably) in the ways we are all taught to be grateful and to give thanks for what are generally very basic elements of a half-decent life and/or basic human qualities.
Food, shelter, clothing, companionship, money, a sense of joy/meaning, a job, sex, leisure, safety and so on. How are any of this not so incredibly basic and obvious so as to negate any need to still be fixated on it? Now perhaps the next objection would be that, yes but many people still don’t have these things, so you should still be grateful. But if we pause to ponder this, it immediately crashes and burns because it’s a logical fallacy to say 1) Having basic things is something special/unusual, and 2) People should be grateful to have these basic things.
My writing is very rigid today, largely because of that numbness I’ve been experiencing for most of the last few days. Many things are coming together; all at once, seemingly although the truth is that it’s been building for months now and I just keep postponing dealing with it. I have almost been trying to will it away, like as if magical thinking could somehow issue a fairy who says “poof!” and make things different in an instant.
Wait, so because my emotions are currently so submerged and my thoughts are scattered partly due to the lack of sleep, I am losing track of why I’m even talking about gratitude. It’s partly because that’s what has always come up if I so much as hint to anyone that I am sick of the way things are or that I cannot see how things can actually improve, etc. – they just doggedly remind me to be grateful, to count my blessings, to reflect on “how far I’ve come” and so on. It’s also partly because Jenna from wishingwellblog.com kindly told me about how she uses an index card to list down at least one happy thing in her life as a means to find something she enjoyed doing again; even if it’s just one little thing in that moment of darkness.
I sincerely do not grudge anyone any of these coping methods for life, and I do genuinely appreciate the concern that leads them to share these with me. The thing is, I’ve literally tried it all and yes, there were some which did work for a while, like having an online Gratitude List, repeatedly trying to have a spiritual relationship (I covered pretty much all the major religions and then revisited Christianity in a gajillion fruitless ways) and yes, even the Holy Grail itself – charitable work. Hell, I even pushed myself into full-time NGO work for a few years, after doing various volunteer gigs on the side.
But, the fact is that none of these attempts have ever led to anything other than a greater awareness of the futility of such things. Furthermore, in meeting K and discussing these things with him and the others we used to meet with as well, all of their own stories further cemented the abject futility of such concepts for me. To be clear, I wasn’t happy about losing these concepts, or distractions (if we’re being honest). They had all been very, very real to me; although God had ceased to feel real for a few years, if I’m being honest. But the rest of it? These were my reasons for getting up in the morning; my entire sense of self-worth and identity hinged on being a Good Person who Helped Others.
Naturally, it felt like I was dying. But they assured me I was genuinely being reborn, if anything. I began to slowly (and painfully) come to terms with the awareness that although nothing had actually changed in the world itself, nor in any of the people around me, I myself had changed in the most profound way. Despite the haziness of this newfound perspective, I could already clearly see two facts: that nothing was going to be the same for me again and that I was profoundly alone from this point onwards.
True enough, almost every single one of my friends and family members have become strangers to me over the last few years. It’s either they kept saying that I had changed “too much” or I felt bored out of my mind by their company, far more so than before. K is literally the only exception, and our friendship is the best relationship I’ve ever had in life – or at least, it should be, but my over-emphasis on the romantic and/or sexual side of life is a topic better suited for another day. But I do know it’s a big part of why I made my ex out to be so much “deeper” than he actually is… hah. I just so badly wanted to connect with more people. I still desperately do, but I no longer have hope that this is actually possible.
This aloneness has not been all doom and gloom; in fact, it has taught me the various micro hues between being alone, loneliness, aloneness and the manufactured lines of normalcy separating these. As written here in 2013, I have never learned as much about who I am as I have in these last few years of increasing solitude, greater estrangement with family & friends and reduced busyness and consumerism. By and large, I have absolutely astounded myself at random moments with the depth of awareness I can sometimes plumb, if only for a few fleeting minutes.
And there we have it, folks: if, at all, there is a true thing to be “grateful” for, it is for Me. My precious Self, in all its various and still-hidden constructed personas. This amazing creature; fiercely real, searching, giving, feeling, retreating, resting, savoring… being. I am not any more (or less…) special than anyone else, but for whatever reasons, my eyes have begun to open in ways that seem to still elude and/or terrify others.
But this isn’t simply something beautiful or glorious; though those are certainly a lovely part of this very real, very human experience, the keen sense of alienation cannot be dismissed because I am still an emotional being. I don’t deserve to be cast aside for simply not conforming to societal/gender norms, yet this is going to keep happening for the foreseeable future.
How, then, will I manage to hold on?
constructing.me. 