Mechanisms.

pes·si·mism/ˈpesəˌmizəm/noun:
a tendency to see the worst aspect of things or believe that the worst will happen; a lack of hope or confidence in the future.

(philosophy)
a belief that this world is as bad as it could be or that evil will ultimately prevail over good.


 

“Maybe if you started being more optimistic…”

If I had been given a nickel for every time someone uttered such mindless words to me, I’d undoubtedly be a very wealthy woman by now; as pessimism is not an element of my persona that has come on recently in life – it is part of who I am and how I operate. As you may have noticed, the above definitions attached to the word ‘pessimism’ are different based on the context the word is used in. There are people (like Friedrich Nietzsche or Arthur Schopenhauer) who are one type of pessimist: like political and/or economic analysts who only apply the term to a social or cultural scenario, on a much more global scale that encompasses the world in its entirety. There are also people who only apply a pessimistic outlook to their own personal experiences in life, in an individualized scenario of day to day life. This type of pessimism is a psychological coping mechanism subconsciously adapted to manage the disappointments and failures in Life. Additionally, there are those people like me, who are dual pessimists that both definitions completely apply to.

I get so fucking sick and tired of people saying to me things like:

“Why don’t you just look at life with more joy and happiness?” or

“You get back whatever you sent out into the Universe, you know?” or

“You’re never gonna feel good if you’re so busy feeling bad.”

NEWS FLASH!!!

To the people who survive under such perceptions as those that entertain the idea of pessimism as a consciously made lifestyle choice:
YOU’RE AN IDIOT. WAKE THE FUCK UP OR SHUT THE FUCK UP.
The generalization of a fucked up society and the accepted norms within its strict confines are a huge problem with this truth; as the blindly happy people of the world are all too often comfortable in labeling people like me as being “negative” or “down”. And perhaps I am, in comparison to some women my age that I know; but the purposes behind my own pessimistic attributes can be directly traced to certain repetitive things (a pattern of negative affectations and/or experience). To go a little further down, the ongoing execution of such pessimism is now hard-wired into my very personality and outlook.
Put plainly: truly pessimistic people did NOT wake up the day after losing a beauty pageant and decide to become a pessimist because of a minor bruise to the ego.
In the psychological context of a pessimist’s profile, the perpetuation of negative expectations becomes a form of self-preservation; and it also provides ongoing management of deep emotional disappointments and failures in the mind’s eye. Freud got it; and tried to explain best he could. Similar to the Pavlov’s Dog experiment, a certain physical response is the natural reaction to specifically targeted anticipation.
During my teenage years, I was all over the map and intermingled with fuck-tons of people in all kinds of various circumstances, eventually forming the general opinion that I continue to harbor about social interaction. I went to one too many movies or concerts that were ruined by the total strangers in close quarters with my person, and never having had even known they had. I live in a densely populated area where “rush hour” never ends, and if you want to get to your destination – you better be ready to force your way in. To sum it up, I have been shown time and again over my lifespan so far, how the easy majority of the people in the world are just inconsiderate fucks who don’t have a clue about anything beneath the surface areas in Life. As an empath, I am naturally a thoughtful individual; without effort or work at being so. This causes my stupid brain to expect such considerations as well in return – a very dumb thing to do. I guess the point I’d really like to make here is that when people say things such as those I have emphasized above to me, I wonder if they are purposely trying paint themselves as shallow and dense for whatever reason; or if they have cause to intentionally offer me offense. I do not like being in constant expectation of the bad things; I wish I could wake up every morning with a smile and feel like the possibilities in Life were everywhere around me, trust me.
But my own reality is not such; and never could or will be. It is statements like this that unfailingly prompt the shiny happy ‘judges’ around me to start in with the “If I were you…” bullshit.
To which, I have this to say every time:

“If you were me, then I’d be you…and I would use your body to kick the shit out of you for saying such ignorant things.”

If you are shiny and/or happy, next time you feel like vocalizing your peanut-brain opinions on things that you don’t know a fucking thing about, why not try just shutting the fuck up, instead?

My Glass.

The most frustrating paradox belonging to me at present would most certainly be the one that defines everything that I am or am not; all that I tried and failed at being; and/or everything that I have been and will never be again:

An element of existence that surely defines EVERYTHING from one moment to the next, and undoubtedly plays a large role in things like perception, willingness and overall opinions; of course, I am referring to my “attitude”. My attitude sucks for the most part right now, I admit it. I am nearly impossible to satisfy in any context right now; I am constantly harassing myself to “perfect” things, because I can’t do anything right the first time around. I am most certainly very, very ugly on the inside right about now. My thoughts weigh in salty and stained by the weight of darkness; my emotions are completely out of my own hands; I have to trust that the “guardian” (that’s what I call this state-of-mind and being because most of ME is absent right now, huge parts of my consciousness are detached) will make decisions that will carry me through, somehow. Apparently, one of those decisions has been to just go cold in order to persevere; because I have been stoic, silent, and all-around numb in regard to my daughter and the loss of whatever hope I had for her. But I have felt the attached loss and painful emotions, just not very often and not in excess (as even I anticipated); I have not been managing my emotions either, though – not necessarily allowing myself to go through them and let them be what they are…so it’s still this Limbo-esque sense of teetering.

              The paradox to which I refer in all of this is a constant punch in my throat, however, and I am curious to get anyone else’s opinions and/or input on this specific topic.

Those of us who have been wounded – truly wounded to the very core of our being – are NEVER able to revert back to the sub-conscious place that they resided before being broken; we can go to support groups to try and get better at our issues, but we will never be back to whatever we were before being mistreated. We can see therapists for fear of abandonment and/or commitment, we can talk about our problems until we go hoarse – it will not replenish what has been taken away. Despite any and all of the things that the physically/psychologically/emotionally wounded may do to better ourselves and empower the victim inside of us, our traumas CHANGE us permanently. This is no secret to me, and hasn’t been for quite some time; and in turn, I have gradually adjusted my attitude to better compliment such alterations in my character. For example, I have been disappointed so many times by so many people throughout my life so far (men in particularly) that my expectations have dropped down to nearly nothing when it comes to others. This way, I am rarely let down. This circumstance illustrates a comprehensive math equation in my opinion; it’s simple enough to deduce – self-explanatory.

On the other hand, I have earned the label of “Pessimist” as a result of my constant expectation of negative experiences, as opposed to positive ones. It really shouldn’t shock a living soul that my glass is half-empty, at best. Anybody with half a brain cell who knows ANYTHING about me and my Life’s journeys, thus far, would be a complete idiot (in my opinion) to think anything other than that I keep a half-full glass…why the fuck would I? I have no reason to be positive; I have no cause for optimism…been there, done that shit, repeatedly found myself being the dumbass for the poor management of my own expectations. But it does bother me when people say that I am a pessimist; because as much as I can admit that I am NOT Miss Merry Sunshine on the sunniest of days, I also feel pretty certain that if I truly were a pessimist, I would have never made it this far at all.

Cyclical.

Throughout so much of the apparent bullshit that goes on with each new sunrise of my cursed life, I’d like to share the fact that there are NOTHING but vastly reaching tentacles of even more bullshit that belong to the variants attached to that same fucking existence.
For even when things are on the “upswing” for me (which never consists of anything more than a few not-so-bad things happening), my heart is ever struggling to simply remain above the ring of that proverbial drain; I am not throwing a pity party – anyone who really knows me at all will have no choice but to agree with my longtime proclamation of purely bad karma…it IS NOT “perception” or a matter of any “law of attraction”; it is TRUTH.
1) When my health gets to a point in which I have any room to move freely, my car breaks down with some fucking random, yet very expensive issue, and I get stuck until I become ill again;
2) When I become ill – nothing else matters besides getting better and it is always a fight that exhausts me to the point of near-submission;
3) By the time I “feel better”, I am so tired of fighting to feel better that I am at my own wit’s end with everything;
4) When I finally get my car repaired (a solution that attaches itself directly to MONEY), I run out of money and am again stuck until I get more income;
5) When I am sickly, it becomes all-too-often impossible to work for income;
6) When I get some income, it is already spent because I have been stagnant at home and have had to borrow from someone;
7) When I finally get back to feeling like I can possibly conquer even the simplest of steps in this horribly vicious cycle – my car breaks down again.

Granted, I am lucky to have people who help me, and my step dad loaned me his “spare” car; my own car is very close to being “repaired” once more (with the exception of brakes, which I was set out to pick up this morning in order for my nephew to change them today) – and of course there is no way in Hell that the Gods would allow things to go so smoothly for me, in my own fucking hell-hole life…my step dad’s spare won’t start this morning.

“Don’t freak out, I’ll pick you up and take you to the auto store to get your brakes…”

And nobody gets it…I don’t want a fucking ride to the fucking auto store to get the fucking brakes that I don’t even have the finances to buy right now!!! I don’t want anything from anyone who finds it funny when I can’t start the loaner car I’m forced to borrow because my own bread and butter has failed me once again!!! I am sick and fucking tired of the heavy weight I am dragging around by my ankle over the dread and anxiety of vehicular failure – and I cannot deal with AGAIN it today (with the car that I’m using while I have no car)!!!
I just want a single, fucking break!!! It never comes….NEVER.
The cycle of my existence is what is going to kill me eventually, not anything or anyone else. It will be the long-lived and suffered anxiousness and worry and dread that will finally stop my blackened heart. And to be honest, I can’t wait.

Nice People Swallow.

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While I’ve always loved the epic bumper sticker that was super popular during my senior year of high school and has remained so since: MEAN PEOPLE SUCK, I’ve grown to see the other side to this statement over time and experience.

My love for this particular bumper sticker stems from the fundamental fact that I am NOT, by all intents and purposes, a MEAN person; on the contrary, I am very much of the big-hearted, detrimentally intuitive clan of human beings. 

So I wanted to take a few moments today, in light of the personal struggle that I continue to endure through Motherhood and its own twist on an all-too-literal Living Hell, to give acknowledgement to all of the other people out there similar to myself – the “nice” people of the world, through my own rant on the topic of MEAN VS NICE.

Because sometimes, as a non-mean-spirited person in this collectively cut-throat environment, it’s blaringly difficult to fathom anything besides the inevitable die-off of the “good”; as a person who truly doesn’t find any type of joy or self-worth through the torment of others, and never could; as someone who just simply wasn’t built in the ways required to be a back-stabbing, two-faced and shallow individual – “life”, at times, becomes quite obfuscated by its own right.

Mean people do, by all right, suck miserably and as if their own mean-spirited lives depend upon it; nice people, however – NICE PEOPLE SWALLOW. We get to live with the crap left behind by the mean person’s good time. Just sayin’…