Crazy at 12:43 am

23 02 2014

I just finished binge-watching a show this weekend in between all of my other weekendly activities of Friday night therapy, Grocery shopping, doing laundry and the like.

It’s been so easy for me to look at the people that I’ve inserted into my life as having been completely nuts or whacko.  I’ve had friendships and relationships with people who I allowed to completely manipulate me into situations and circumstances.  I’ve complained to my friends about how crazy my situations and circumstances are…and how I don’t want them to be that way.  But the honestly disturbing fact is that at some point or another, I choose to make myself into the spot that I am in today.  I continue to put myself in these situations and circumstances.

And the realization occurs to me, that these crazy circumstances and impossibly emotionally-charged situations say less about the people that I’ve put into my life, and more about myself. 

How did I get here? 

In the midst of all the crazy and all of the messed-up thinking, I comfort myself with the thought that I am steady, I am consistent.  I am something to be counted on.  Until that moment when I’ve been pushed too far, and then I become vengeful and crazy myself.  But the fact is, I’m already crazy.  I don’t need someone else’s messed up frame of mind to live a crazy life.  It’s too late.  I’m completely nuts.  I’m a whacko-nut job that just looks for interesting stories. 

Maybe that’s why I get involved with the people that I get involved.  Because I know that at least, they’ll one day make for an interesting story.  It’s sad that this is a motivator to allowing certain people in my life.  It’s downright shameful. 

But you know, still at the same time, part of me, the loving part of me, the kind part of me, looks at myself and recognizes that I just have a lot of growing up to do.  I do.  This time recently has all been about me realizing that I’m getting old.  Stuff hurts sometimes on my body for no reason at all.  Sometimes at 7:30 pm, I find myself looking at my watch and wondering if it’s time to sleep yet.  My body’s getting old, but the emotional and mental state of things isn’t.  The loving part of myself has patience and peace with myself, knowing that I’ll mature when the time is right.  Maybe I already am mature, and just momentarily have taken a relapse into being a teenager.  Maybe when all of this process is over, I’ll be back to being the dependable adult that I am, with the steady and consistent job that I crave.  I’ll be a strong force in the life of my friends and family, a wise counselor to those in need, and a forgiver to those who have hurt me.  I’ll be able to move on and go on into a better frame of thinking about certain things.  Yeah, maybe now is just a time of grieving again, only I’m grieving for something that’s still alive.  It’s a different sort of grief. 

Truth is hard to deal with.  It’s all over the place and it doesn’t fit into nice, neat boxes and subject line titles.  It’s full of process, of explanation.  But the thing is, when you get truth handed to you, you’ve got two choices, you can either take it and bear it, swallow it and process it and learn from it.  Or you can run.  You can run like hell, hoping it’ll never catch up to you.  But it does.  Look at me, I’m the 25-year old adult, trying to process all sorts of emotions and scenarios at quarter to one on a Saturday night…when I really just should be in bed.  Psychoanalysis at some point, if you do it too long, you’ll forget to use those wits on yourself.  And when you finally do, it’s quite disturbing.  I didn’t deal with it when I should have a year, two, three years ago…however many it was, and look at me, I’m on the couch, trying to put my words into sentences, that are coherent and that have meaning…and it just doesn’t make sense at all. 

So yeah, I’m a little messed up sometimes.  That’s okay.  It’s part of the package deal, it’s part of the background of all of my yesterdays finally catching up to me, where I have just suffocated those emotions and processes.  I surround myself with crazy, so that I can focus on someone else’s and not deal with my own.  It’s stupid, really, to just project the things you’re feeling onto another person or persons.  I’m a little nut job.  Some of it’s my fault, and some of it’s really just the fault of the deck of cards that have been dealt to my hand.  Either way, it’s my fault for not dealing with it. 

It’s true you know?  The thing they say, that when you’re single, all of your sad shit just gets brought to light, and you have to learn how to deal with it and change it or keep it and learn to like it. 

And that’s my crazy…for right now anyways.

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