I feel like at first glance – you think – yea, constipation is a motherfucker. But, I think we could also make a relevant comparison to our friend diarrhea. That was ridiculously hard to spell and there is still a red line under it, so now I am annoyed. Although diarrhea, generally, won’t stop. I feel like you have to continually commit to getting everything out. Like, at first, you think you are done. There is nothing left out of your ravished intestines, but then the intense pain returns and you have a fateful decision to make. Sit back down and commit to ending the waste induced tyranny your body is under or try and hold it all back in.
Either way, both extremes suck and have relevant life comparisons – which brings me to my actual point. I know, you thought I was just going to talk about bodily functions today because my abject fear of leaving my husband and dogs makes me violently anxious thus setting in motion a specific list of symptoms that sometimes involve a massive revolt of my intestines.
Side note: I’d like a scone.
But, no. This is not just about how my body processes angst physically. Usually when people use the statement above they are talking about relationships, jobs, life in general. Last time I wrote, I talked about taking chances – which is really good for growth, self-actualisation… why is my computer spell checking to the Queen’s English? Goddamnit. Anyway, I think there is a slight difference between taking chances to do things you love vs. forcing yourself to be someone that maybe doesn’t actually fit your personality.
I do a lot of forcing internally & probably externally. One of my greatest talents seems to be taking situations that make me violently uncomfortable and exposing myself to them repeatedly in order to somehow “improve.” Sometimes this works. Like, going to take photos of people does tend to make me anxious, but once I get into it, I enjoy it. Swimming with seals made me kind of want to hyperventilate, but once I figured out how to breathe (because that’s not automatic at all) I enjoyed myself. Letting hot husband into my life at first made me really uncomfortable – but then I got used to him. Going places alone or getting my hair done or getting gas for the car all make me uncomfortable but I figure out how to get through them in spite of the discomfort. Also, getting gas is important for like…not…getting stranded. You’d think, I’d actually care more about this given my whole penchant for planning.
But, there are some situations that I force that I’m never comfortable in and I’m not always sure why I push myself so hard to be okay when I’m clearly not. I chug along doing fine and even enjoying myself and, then something in my brain snaps and I’m not ok anymore. Then, I end up looking crazy as fuck because I’m hysterical again. Just like repeated exposure is a talent so is hating myself when I can’t hack it.
So, why? Why do I force some situations that hurt so much when pushing that hard doesn’t wield a positive result? I’m not sure. Ok, well, that’s not true. I want to prove that I can be better. I want to prove that I’m not unhinged. I want to prove my worth. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to make people unhappy. I don’t want to be too much. I don’t want to hurt people.
But, somehow I think that all happens by my forcing situations that just aren’t going to work. I think we can change and I think we should always try to be better, but maybe there are just some situations that won’t work with our personalities. And, that’s ok.
Someone asked me why keep holding on to something that clearly isn’t working. And, it shouldn’t surprise you that the reasons I gave were about everything but myself.