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amoonytalks · 16 hours

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0.2 - trying to start a conversation about love and failing miserably

It's 3 o'clock (afternoon) as I write this. I have been procrastinating for days now to start putting this post together, even though I have some bits of it well established in my head and the only thing left to do is to actually sit down and write it. Its a mix of procrastination and not at the same time, but I think the context in general is useless here. What matters is that I'm writing now, if it really matters, if someone is really going to take the time to read a random girl complain about love.

Love. Its probably one of or my favorite subject in the world. I cant explain it, but I have always been fascinated by all the issues surrounding love. We tend to be dazzled by what is unknown. Not that love is actually unknown to me. In my depressed daydreams, I sometimes thought that I didnt deserve love, but nowadays I recognize that I have been and continue to be surrounded by it. Love is in the little things. We have a habit of trying to define simple things in ways that are mostly unnecessary, and love is one of those things that, despite being everyday and natural, trying to put a definitive concept on what love is seems offensive, because love can be many things. If I were to ask a group of different people what love is, we could analyze how each person tends to have a unique vision for various reasons. That is what fascinates me. Love is something Im so curious about that I can hardly help the excitement I feel when I'm asked to talk about it, and I even end up stumbling over words trying to put something together that makes sense to others.

On this blog, we'll still be talking a lot about love, in all its forms and colors. You can be sure of that. But the kind of love I want to talk about today is romantic love. I'd also like to make it clear that if you came to this post expecting an in-depth, scientific analysis of love, sorry, but you can leave. This blog is more about the daydreams I have when the night turns into dawn and baseless philosophical theories. It's more about me than anything else. But I still talk because I believe that somewhere in the universe you would read this and identify with it, or at least welcome it. I have a lot to say and little to add, perhaps.

Im 16. Im still a teenager, going through moments that are probably less stressful than the hormonal upheaval that a 13-year-old goes through, but which are still a bit complex. Nowadays I have a group of friends who make my school career less hopeless than it could be, and honestly, even though I'm not the friendliest person in the universe, I feel comfortable with them. Not as comfortable as they probably feel with each other, given the variety and ease with which they deal with certain subjects, but there is still a sense of comfort, I guess. Anyway, whether you are 16 or not, it's not hard to imagine that there's an incessant search by people in this age group for love. My psychologist says that all our feelings are much more intense at this stage, and love is not so different. Passion, fever, everything is much more intense now than for people who have lived longer.

But its just that in this part of life there we have a false feeling that we had experienced every possible emotional level, but love can be seen very new, because you will rarely truly experience it at a young age. As we grow up, our feelings become more complex, but in contrast, we become more & more mature in dealing with them. But, this is in theory. In practice, we are still the same star mass we were when we born, just with more experiences. But experiences dont always form maturity in certain people. Look, its easy just analyze the amount of ignorant and immature beings we find out there, on the streets, on television and even in positions of supposed power (yes, elon musk. I'm talking about you. you're like a cry baby. or as clarice lispector would say: you're like a hair in the soup). This ignorance is projected into various scenarios, affecting the world in a certain way.

Well, we are still talking about love. We all know that immature people end up hurting people, and you probably know (or you are the person) who has already had a major disappointment in love. They say that breaking a heart in love is one of the most painful feelings in the world, just like losing a piece of yourself. That sounds crazy to me. Dont get me wrong, if you are that person with a broken heart, I would never take away the value of your feeling. Its not crazy that you feel bad about having your heart broken, what I find crazy is the fact that someone, in their merely human and mortal existence like you, can hurt something as precious as a heart. If I were to elaborate further, I would add that my perception of romantic love in certain scenarios is closer to pain than to a positive feeling. Im not going to go into depth, at least not in this post. But if you are wondering why my view is supposedly pessimistic (it's not), know that I say this without ever (fortunately) having experienced disappointment. But if you're the person who had your heart broken and found my speech unfortunate, if it makes you feel a little better, know that I've never experienced romantic love. In any way.

It was because of this that I had the idea to start writing this post while doing the dishes. Its not something unknown or that I suddenly discovered, but it still left me in a state of shock for a few seconds. I'm pretty sure that I'm still very young and that love will still come, but it was a strange shock to realize that among all my friends and acquaintances at my age, Ive been lucky (or unlucky) enough never to have been graced by romantic love. On the other hand, whenever people ask me if I ever liked someone, I say yes. But the reality is that I havent really feeling the feeling of what love is suposed to look like. I have come very close to it, so close that remembering the feeling causes me distress. Because it was painful, like I have already say (but I have that pessimistic view of love even before that). It was like having my pharyngeal pathway blocked by thorns. This whole thing about love not hurting is a lie. Love hurts, just like all other feelings. Even joy can be painful, because while you're feeling it you know that it's going to end and one day your happy moments will just become memories. That could be considered pessimism, but I see it as a way of facing reality.

I believe that never having felt love is also a bit of a misnomer. Everything I know about romantic love comes from stories. And trust me, I have heard a lot of them. As I said at the beginning of the text, Im completely obsessed with this subject, and I think part of this interest started when I saw people talking about it so much. Im curious by nature, but for as long as I can remember I've had people around me treating me like some kind of therapist, what creates a feeling that they can be free to tell me their most secret confessions. Also, It must be because Ive always been an extremely considerate girl towards others, in the sense that Ive always been very fond of being silent and consequently thinking too much, what creates in me a feeling of empathy. The more you think, the more you acquire the ability to be a good analyst. Analytical people give good advice, apparently. I leave that as a tip to make life easier. The more you analyze, the more you know, the more you know, the easier it is to deal with the world. But knowledge, like love, can be very relative.

“The more I knew, the more I wanted to know. He had mad appetites that grew more eager as he fed them” - the portrait of dorian gray (book good as hell)

It's already 6pm. I had more to say, but this text has tired me out. Ivee realized that I go round in circles for too long and in the end I dont even know what Im getting at. I think its because this is still my first post, so unfortunately I still feel a bit stuck… But let's get back to it, so you will have to follow me to know what my big conclusion would be.

Actually, you don't have to. There's no big conclusion. Thats exactly what love is. You start trying to fit words together to try to explain it and in the end you get nowhere. Or it would, if I wasnt so tired. Tomorrow I have a chemistry work at school to present, so I could use that as an excuse, saying that Im only going to close my computer to study. But I definitely wont. I hate chemistry and Im going to study what I need to 5 minutes before my presentation. Normally Im very involved in schoolwork, but this time Im not in the mood for several reasons. One of them is that I have lost patience with my more intimate relationships at school. The same subjects tire me out. Talking for a whole morning about love and sex has become quite exhausting… What the hell?

Love… I genuinely couldnt care less. I lie. I genuinely couldnt care more. Because talking and listening about love every day is definitely taking its toll on me. These days I've started to crave love more than anything else, because it seems so good, the new always seems either good or scary. And when it becomes scary, I feel angry, because instead of making fake scenarios like the ones I usually like to make alone in my room, love comes up like a damned curiosity and Im left trying to dismember a feeling that seems impossible to understand, and not knowing something causes me either stress or fear. I know I shouldn't be afraid of love, but just knowing doesnt make me stop feeling it.

Knowledge is relative. Love is relative. And what could be more interesting than relative things? I wish I had more time to study about love, but school drives me crazy with its unfortunate content load. Anyway! As soon as I have more time, I'm going to study love from a scientific point of view and form my own philosophy. And I will write about it. But until then I will write about other things, obviously, but in my view no other post would be cooler than one about love. Or maybe. I have several ideas.

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voidcommascreamintothe · 1 year

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Who’s anger is this?

“Its yours, you know.” My therapist says to me, leaning on the table, head propped on her left knuckles. I stop mid sentence.

“But..” I try not to get defensive, but its rising to the surface anyway. My throat can’t contain my desperate need to explain myself anymore that a pebble can hold back the flow of a river.

“But it is yours. When do you get angry?” she asks me.

“Well, when something happens that makes me angry.” I say flatly, but the therapist, being the professional that she is, doesn’t take any of my bullshit, and keeps looking at me, quiet and waiting.

“Okay. For example..” I start, recanting a recent argument between my supervisor and my boss. I was reassigned into a different department, and my supervisor lost an already trained member of her team, all because of internal politics. I explain to my therapist that i was angry because my supervisor, who I look up to and respect greatly, got screwed over and i was angry for her.

“But that is still your anger” my therapist explained. “Being angry on someones behalf still means that you are angry. You are the one upset over this slight. Its your anger.” She pauses, looks me over once, and continues, “also, why are you angry on your supervisor’s behalf, and not because you were the one removed from the team? Didn’t you say you don’t like the current reassignment and lack training?”

“Yes but I can find a way to cope and-“

“You were removed from a position you enjoyed, despite your protests. Why aren’t you angry over that?”

“Well yes, but I can work here for some time it will be fine, and besides, some connections were pulled to get me in, I can’t really ask for more than that.. I mean i can I just..” I stop talking. I dont know what to say. I see it show up again, that little but, a staple in my vocabulary. I used to say it so often, it almost ruined me. Now i am doing it again.

“A string was pulled to get you in through the door, but that was a year ago.” My therapist says after a long pause. She continues, “you know what you are doing yea? You know the work, the science?”

“Yes. Yes i do.”

“So its safe to say you stayed because of your hard work. 12 plus months, you stayed, and got stellar reviews on you performance evaluation.”

“I did.” I nod, and I mean it. I do the work really well, I even trained two new hires. My eyes start to burn and my throat gets tight. She continues, asking me a question I dreaded answering, “ why don’t you get angry over being wronged? Why do you thing you don’t have a right to get angry?”

“ Because..” my voice is thick, my vision blurry. I am picking up what she is putting down, so i answer this question, and the next one I know she will ask me, “ because I don’t feel like I have earned my spot. I feel like I am not worthy of the position that I had, that I don’t get to be angry at a gift that was given to me. Mind you, i am aware that I know what I am doing, I know the science. I fought for my spot and was elated when my hiring was made official. But only briefly. I don’t get to be happy, I don’t get to celebrate a small win because it is not the win that my parents wanted me to have!” Now I am not only crying, but also yelling. I am so angry, so furious, that i start to see red. She thinks I am deserving, worthy. But doesn’t she know? Doesn’t she know that I am an awful person? All the failures, all the mistakes, she knows all that so.. And thats when it hits me. A lightning strike from a clear blue sky.

She knows some of my burdens, I have been going to see her only for a short amount of time, but she knows and does not think see me as a bad person. A trained professional knows my truths and still does not see me as a horrible human being. The realization hits so strongly it feels like my body took a screenshot. I realize i have been quiet for a time, but she is lookin mg at me with a smile. She nods, encouraging me to continue talking.

“Ok, fine.” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, but I don’t succeed. I roll my eyes, smile, and continue, “fine, fine. I am angry. I loved my job. I loved the research that we did. My former supervisor was a great team leader and mentor. I made my objections known, and they fell on deaf ears. I am angry.”

“See? You are angry. Its your anger. I know you are a great researcher, scientist, genetic modifier of organisms,” she laughs as she lists my work tasks as if they are my actual job tittle. She leans back i her chair, hands in her lap.

“You were wronged and you deserve to get angry over that. You-“

“I deserve to get angry.” I finish for her. My tears are still flowing, but the pain in the back of my throat is gone and i can speak easier now. “I deserve to get angry.” I repeat it almost like a mantra.

My therapist smiles at me. She says “How do you feel now?”

“Better. I feel like i should remind myself of that more often.”

“You should. Don’t forget it. We do have a lot of work to do though. Your anger should be addressed in a healthy way, healthy and safe way, so we will work on it.”

I laugh a little. I have always known that I am angry. I’ve always know that I am an angry person, so its nice to see someone give me space to feel it without judgement.

It still feels like a great molten blob in my soul. So intense and brightly burning, its almost biblical. Fire and brimstone. But its still mine. Mine and mine alone. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health. If i am truly committed to this journey of self fulfillment, then I must find a way to have it, and to hold it. To own it.

“We still have some time left,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts. “What did you do this past week?”

“I went to see Barbie.” I reply.

We end the session talking about the movie, and me getting progressively more passionate in my praise for Gerwig.

#biblical anger #girhood #being a woman in being angry most of the time #a joirnal entry #mentally unstable #mental heath #mental ill meme

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