Me, me and more me!
I find myself to be a bundle of confusion. There seems to be so many contradicting feelings inside, so many opposing emotions. On one hand, I like to think of myself as a confident young adult, on the other hand, I find myself to be fickle minded and uncertain of what I want. Sometimes I like to think of myself as a patient and caring guy, but things happen and I react in such a way that I find myself doubting just how patient or caring of a guy I really am.
The true measure of a person is always when the going gets tough; and it is times like this, when everything seems to just go so wrong that I really the worst and ugliest part of me take shape. I become quick tempered, loosing my temper easily, mostly at my mother, I find myself more argumentative, picking more fights with my girlfriend, I find myself less eager to entertain my father and his qualms. I find myself asking “Who’s going to listen to me? Who’s going to help ME? Who’s going to pat me on the back and comfort me?” I become more preoccupied with how I feel, what I want, what I have, who did what to me,. Its all me, me, me, I, I ,I. I see myself trapped in this invisible wall, indulging in self pity. Ok, maybe self pity is not the word; its self centeredness.
I guess we all indulge in it sometimes. When the world seems like such an uncaring place, when there seems to be no available and suitable person to just trash all your worries to, the heart screams out for attention. It wails for some soothing touch, some comforting words and a caring gaze. That’s what I want, that what I need! Yet, the feeling of wanting such things just makes me guiltier. How can I be so selfish? Every other person has problems of their own; some with problems far worse than mine. Is if fair for me to kick and shout for attention? When in reality, everyone is fighting a personal battle themselves. Who am I to demand that I be given attention and care, at their expense? It seems so immature of me. To care first and foremost about how I am feeling before considering how others feel. But at times, that is exactly how I feel. I feel like no one understands (which is my own fault really). I don’t have someone I can go to and just tell EVERYTHING; from my deepest fears to my darkest secrets. I don’t have that ‘go to’ person, where you just unload everything and walk away feeling better. Some people have that; and its really something to be admired and envied. I don’t think I truly ever had a friend like that. After all, I keep my feelings guarded quite well when I want to, and I don’t really just open like a tin can to people. Maybe its just being self centred again, but I feel the need to be asked those questions about myself. Perhaps people try to be polite in not asking too much, and they are right in doing so. But for the right people, the need for me to know they care exceeds the need for them to maintain common courtesy.
I met a friend from years ago recently, a friend I was once very close to. I realise that things have changed and we have all moved on to other things and other friends. But in all the 3 hours that I visited him at his home, he never ventured beyond “How are you? When are you graduating?” He didn’t even ask how I came, or when I had to leave, since I came such a long way just to see him. In my heart, I was just wondering “Are you really so uninterested in knowing what’s going on in my life? Why did you invite me here if not to know how I am doing? Or is “I’m ok” fine enough for you?”
I don’t want everyone around me to just suddenly be so concerned about me. I just want a few people to care; the people that matter to me; the people I care about. I just want to be comforted that they care for me like I do them. Or maybe I did not show them enough that I care. Maybe….
To say that I have received totally no attention would be a lie. There are friends who are really kind, who take the time and effort to really listen and empathise, others just show their concern by asking how is my mom and how I am coping. It’s soothing. I know they don’t expect a long detailed reply from me. But it’s the gesture of asking that’s the most soothing part. Is a gesture of love, of care and of kindness. I am always very very grateful to these people. I went home today exhausted, having spent the whole day in college, and the night time travelling around and doing assignments. But I go to bed comforted, and in a way less stressed, because I sat down and listened and talked to a good friend for almost 2 hours, exchanging stories, arguments, opinions and what have you. We talked about life, about family, about friends and things we liked and disliked. It was no sob session, I didn’t cry out my problems, I didn’t get all emotional and distressed (we were in a coffee shop after all) but I did feel more able to face what was coming at home just knowing that if I ever needed a friend, it’s a phone call away. At times like this, I feel reluctant to go home, reluctant to face and handle what’s at home. I found comfort in listening to this friends description of such a closely knit family; of relatives helping one another, standing by your side and holding you firm when things go wrong; a far cry from my own relatives.
So how does this make me feel uncaring of others? Well, it is the fact that at this moment in time, I seem to be sooooo obsessed with myself, soooooo worried about how I am coping that only after asking these questions do I ask the questions that should really be at the top of my list, like “Have I treated my mother right? Is there any way to lessen her own suffering since ultimately, she is the victim? Have I failed in my duty as a son to her? Is it my fault that she is in a relapse? What have I done to contribute to her relapse? What can I do to make things better for her?”
posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 4:11 pm
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