Tag: faith

Talking in circles

Part of the Isolation Journals, Day 91.

Around and around. I think we’re in good graces again. I explain my rationale, you accept it and realize that we reason differently. Neither of us meant harm. We apologize to one another. We go on again as normal for a while, then it creeps up again. My mistake enters your conscience once more and you lash at me for it. I say sorry again, but I’m unsure if you’ve absorbed it. You still scold me. I explain again why I sinned, but you can’t grasp it. You give up, or you press me to forget you. I don’t want to. I didn’t think you did either. But this time, you blocked me.

Is this on two different social media? You viewed one profile recently, but I’m unsure if I would even know you did if I were blocked. I am too nervous to make amends. I’m too nervous to visit any of your profiles. Why would you do this when we are so far apart? You told me we would stay in touch while you moved away, but for the past month, we haven’t. You told me we’d still be in frequent contact. You told me you weren’t done with me and never would be. Why does that always change? Why do you give up so easily? Friendships are about growing, arguing and changing. But you are scared every time that happens. Debate and strife is bound to happen. Stop disowning everyone at any small vignette. Take it in stride.

I was supportive, attentive, charming, thoughtful, funny…a superstar. Now I’m terrible. I’m rude, selfish, and I let you down. I’m so tired of being one or the other and your attitude being so hot-and-cold. It’s so polar and there are too many extremes and too many mood swings. I was so relieved when I heard this criticism from a mutual friend, but really…should I have been? If you were married, you’d just get divorced. If you were an identity thief, you’d become an informant. If you were in a cult, you could quit. In so many of my other fantastical anxieties I have of new people, there was a simpler path to improvement. But your actual dark side fluctuates, and isn’t as simple as being divorced, testified, or shunned.

But I empathize. I’m no emotional extremist, but I am depressed and anxious, clinically, but not all-encompassingly so. My dark side fluctuates as well. Marilyn Monroe supposedly philosophized “If you can’t handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” I don’t believe you’ve seen my worst, and maybe that’s because I’m such a centrist, unlike the bipolar Marilyn. My nuanced take is, “If you can’t handle me at my worse times, you don’t deserve me at my better times.” And it’s fine if you want to retreat away from me after my worse times until you can regain the energy to see my better times. I’d love to see you again, and I know I can get even better, and you can, too. We can’t completely rid our worse selves, but we can work to weaken them. “For better or worse” is not applied to marriage vows because it’s an exclusive concept towards matrimony, but because this is often a new chapter of life for people and it must be reiterated in all we do. Please don’t give up. I dearly hope you see this.

Comments on “Head Above Water”

I appreciate the thought, but I dislike the subject matter because it appropriates casualties of aquatic accidents. Drowning is an actual thing that happens, Avril. It’s not some beautiful metaphor for Lyme disease. I thought I’d buy the album and just skip over Head Above Water until the memory of my uncle’s demise isn’t as fresh, but now that you named the album after that song I really don’t feel like purchasing it at all. I’m a very big fan. I’m glad you got healthy and found God again, but the pain is just too much. I know you don’t know me and consulting for my opinion isn’t on your list of priorities, but I need to let this out.

I understand the meaning, but I think it’s unfair. Why must [Avril] have a miraculous recovery and no one among my family and friends can? Words have power. I wish the world were more mindful of their speech. I don’t care that it’s a metaphor. I’m tired of people thinking drowning is some glamorous, biblical way to die. I can’t move on because I can’t believe in afterlife anymore. Yes, Lyme disease isn’t as poetic for a song. Local news eats up drowning stories every summer and it’s sick. I’m glad she had her miracle, but my loved ones and i will never have ours. That’s all I’m trying to say. I wish the world wouldn’t just excuse hyperbolic language because it’s artistic or a biblical allusion.

I may buy the album eons from now when the sting isn’t too fresh, but it hits too painful a spot with me right now.

What is your problem? Of course I understand. I simply wish others would be more mindful of the metaphors they use and how they can affect others. I watched all the interviews. I haven’t experienced Lyme disease, but she hasn’t experience nearly drowning. Everyone wants to excuse it because it’s an artful metaphor, but language can hit you in a tender place. I just want people to know that for me, it has. It was a miracle that she finally found a diagnosis, treatment, and lived. Drowning is such a quicker sensation. This nurse attempted to save him but was useless. Avril had time to live between each doctor’s appointment. I dislike artists trying equate one disaster to another when they’re nothing alike. You can tell me it’s art and I don’t get it or care, but I do, and this is just a very sore spot for me. You may wish me Lyme disease, but I will never wish a drowning incident on any of your loved ones.

I used to feel the same way. I thought triggers were something that people just said for attention and argument. Then when something disasterous happens and people use that phrase hyperbolicly and metaphorically, it gets to you. I never thought it did, but it really does. Sorry I’m so tender. Hell, maybe I’m a special snowflake for it. But so be it. Part of me does like the song, but it really makes me feel uneasy. It’s alright for everyone else to enjoy it, but it’s hard for me to feel the same. I wish others just had a bit more consideration in their words, that’s all I’m trying to say.

Note: These are a few comments I left on one of Avril Lavigne’s Facebook posts. I doubt she’ll ever see or listen to my pain, but Facebook is the most direct way to reach celebrities these days. I’ve strung them together in a quasi-essay. I got countless negative feedback, as fan pages seem to be for praise and only praise, but I feel too strongly about this to delete anything. Hopefully WordPress is a bit more thoughtful and has empathy and validation.  That’s all I ask. Don’t coddle me nor discipline me. This is just grief.