Why I'm Awesome (Part 16 of 7,412): LIMITS

Everyone's got them. I hit mine.

[ This post is brought to you by my boss. ]

I am a strong individual, particularly in the emotional department. Sure it looks like things get to me easily and whatnot but the truth of the matter is that these things seldom bother me once they're done flitting in and out of my vicinity. I find this to be healthy, because if I don't express my feelings about something immediately, I tend to hold onto it and not let go until I've had the satisfaction of letting the world know how I feel about it... and this is ultimately more destructive.

Anyone who's hung out with or been around me over the last couple of weeks knows full well that I have had a song stuck in my head pretty much every day. I hum it, I dance to it, I try to sing it in my undoubtedly brutal, songbird-butchering voice. That song is The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani.

If you don't know the lyrics, here they are:

If I could escape/and recreate a place as my world/and I could be your favorite girl forever/perfectly together/now tell me boy wouldn't that be sweet?/If I could be sweet/I know I've been a real bad girl/I never meant for you to get hurt forever/we can make it better/now tell me boy wouldn't that be sweet?

While I know how unawesome it can be to use a song's chorus as a springboard for the breaking of a dam of verbalized emotion, you are all pretty aware by now that I never do it, so there's a damn good reason I'm doing it now.

Honestly, most of the song's appeal exists only in the very first few lines of the chorus.

I would dearly love to escape and recreate a place as my own world. I don't really to be anyone's favorite girl (forever, perfectly together), but it would be pretty sweet all the same. The rest of chorus I guess is less self-explanatory, so you're going to have to plow through what promises to be a lengthy divulging of my burdens on the written word.

Over the last three weeks, I have been thrown under the bus of life's fagatronics. I know I used that word in last time's post, but here it is again, if only to establish an allusion to that post.

Those same things listed in that previous post (the breakup, the tragedy involving a friend, the effects of that tragedy on a larger circle of friends, work, multiple emotional upheavals involving friends both close and distant) have been trying to beat me down over and over again, trying to crush and bury me under an enormous, steaming pile of life's best work.

Now, I'm not trying to imply that my pain is anymore extreme than anyone else's; everyone has their own little defeats that they take harder than other people would. Your pain is individual, and the degree you feel it given an incident is solely up to you, and no one can judge you for how bad or how well you are taking it. No one knows just how hard that fist hit you, no one knows just how much you loved that dog, no one knows how much of your own pain and sadness you internalize for the sake of the people around you.

I recognize, however, that I am a strong person. After everything happened, one after another, I was still standing. More than standing, I was doing pretty damn great. Hardly anyone remembered what happened unless I told them flat out that it was on my mind. Many people would've been down and out after the breakup. Most certainly would've hit the ground out cold after the passing of a friend on top of it.

And yet there I was, going strong, recovering quickly, with a positive attitude. I took all the positive things about my relationship and learned something from them while recognizing why he broke up with me. I didn't blame myself for it, I didn't blame him for it, I simply understood the reason bounced right back.

As for what transpired after the breakup, well, there isn't much you can do with news that arrives in your Inbox telling you something you just can't believe you're reading. You certainly could not have prevented it, and even if you were not as close to that person as you wanted to be, you still recognize the true impact of what has happened. So what do you do instead? You offer to help the ones who were close to him recover. You are there for them when they need you, and that is all you can do given the circumstances. It is perhaps a small gesture and maybe it doesn't make a difference, but it makes things easier to deal with when you know that you are doing what you can to help others lighten the load.

Honestly, that was the only good thing. I love helping people, I love being there for them, knowing that I am helping them through something they can't get through by themselves.

Please understand when I say what I'm about to say next that I love that people come to me and I would never blame them. It's just that I've been dealing with so much emotion coming from all sides that it's been overwhelming. The irony is, I called it! I knew February was going to be a crazy month and I was fully geared, waiting for it, bracing myself so that I can be everyone's shoulder. But I guess that with all my own shit going on, it takes a lot more to stay sane and stable. Do not apologize for this; if I didn't want to help, I would never have offered. In fact, helping people is what literally kept my head above the water for so long. It's draining in the process, sure, but it is also refreshing and recharging when it's over. I love doing it, please don't deny me that pleasure.

Then there's work. I don't need to tell you guys anything more about just how much bullshit work generates on a daily basis. If it weren't for my coworkers, I don't know how I'd make it through the day.

And, ironically, even though these are the people who help me through each individual day just by being there, even though these are the people I see the most, they are somehow the ones on whom I shit on the most. I resolved to correct this, and tried to approach work with an increasingly positive attitude.

For the past weeks, through the Frogger-like dodging of boss-generated obstacles, my coworkers made it bearable simply by being around. There wasn't anything special they needed to say, they were just there, probably thinking the same things I was, and that made it so much easier to survive yet another day in the office.

Still, one can only take so much bullshit. There's only so much a (unwitting) shield can handle before it buckles, splits, and breaks. I think my shield lost its effects yesterday, and I was pushed into and past my limit into the realm of what I like to call "Armageddon." I tore up a draft of a Powerpoint printout right there at my desk, tearing it to shreds, while I was sure my boss had a clear view of my desk. I snapped at a coworker when, really, all he probably wanted was to get that breath of fresh air I myself was craving. I yelled and screamed when I got home, breaking down in front of my sister and her boyfriend.

It feels easy, even to me, for me to get over things like those mentioned in my previous post. To an outsider and that third eye inside my brain that tries to process everything I do, it is generally surprising how little effort it seems to take for me to recover and come back with a vengeance.

It's not actually easy.

So when you've been doing it a while with no sign of respite to let everything bleed out of you, you just get too tired. Too tired to fight another round, too tired to defend against yet another onslaught of bullshit, too tired maintain the thickness of your shell. It's easier to give in and explode.

To be fair, my limit is very high. Very. I am able to plow through and contain an incredible amount of bullshit. It's just that it's been so much crap happening in such a short span of time and I have had absolutely no time to recharge my batteries. I have kept angry outbursts to a minimum at work for the sake of maintaining good morale, trying to stay positive, and at home I distract myself because I don't have the energy to think about anything more serious beyond "will my little red tanks do enough damage to the big blue tanks to kill it when I have 7 little red tanks and they have 2 big blue tanks?" (The answer is yes, but only if my little red tanks were attacking from the woods.)

On another level, I guess in my efforts to stay positive, it further drained my energy, nor did I afford myself the time to deal with what was requiring me to stay positive in the first place. It's ironic that I know how to take good emotional care of myself, but because I didn't want to step on anymore toes, I internalized everything, which is basically the polar opposite of what I need to be doing, as it does nothing to help me recover from the draining process of getting over everything. I was trying so hard to stay strong that I ended up so unbelievably weak that I am disgusted with my failure.

The breakup does not bother me. Nothing really bothers me, per se, as everything that has happened has been dealt with, recovered from. I just haven't had to time to restore my arsenal back to maximum, and my boss's idiocy has basically quintupled over the last week, leaving me so uncertain about my career, about what I do in my day-to-day life. You can only take so many hits in a row before you finally crumple; even if your injuries are healed, if you haven't eaten or rested, you're going down in the 7,412th round whether you like it or not. I took as many as I could, and I guess my only comfort is that it's a hell of a lot more hits than most could've taken.

I am just so, so, so tired.

TL;DR - oh here you are again hey go fuck yourself

Why I'm Awesome (Part 15 of 7,412): PHVIV'N

So hey let's recount the last week, shall we? I got dumped, my boss returns with full force stupidity, a bunch of friends (and myself) went (or are going) through severe emotional trauma over a recent incident, and heartbreaks abound!

I did get a real sweet haircut that I can't stop talking about though. I AM STAYING POSITIVE. GO ME.

(That is semi-sarcasm.)

[ This post is brought to you by the fagatronics of life. ]

Before I go on, I just wanted to clarify that there are no hard feelings between Iping and I and we are still friends. Some people aren't suited for a long distance relationship and that's nothing against them, it's just how they are.

I have said time and time again that people need to be positive, secure, stable, and trustworthy to make an LDR work. If you are not those things, then it's just not for you. This doesn't make you a BAD person, as physical closeness is of course a significant factor in any relationship, it just means you're built a little differently from the way I am. (If it helps, people who can't make LDRs work tend to be more sensitive and show their feelings through gestures rather than words. As far as I know, I am neither of these things.)

But moving on; as it is, my personal problems tend to be the ones I focus on the least. This is solely because I am so good at managing my own emotions and taking care of myself. Ask anyone who's seen me since the breakup: bounced back and better than ever within 48 hours, positive attitude bubbling over. I mean, honestly, outside of bitching about work (which is a fixable problem that I am working on), there's little to complain about.

What prompts me to write this particular entry is the fact that one of the less appealing features of my personality is my severe "anger problem." I put those in quotes because quite frankly, I don't see it as a problem. Yes, I have little outbursts of rage that snap out of my mouth and lash right at the back of some poor little guy's head, but hey that is what he gets FOR GETTING IN MY WAY AS I GET OFF THE ELEVATOR JESUS CHRIST.

The thing is, I express my anger just as often as I express my happiness, my surprise, my fear, or my tears. It is perhaps the idea that anger is such a negative thing that makes people focus on that the most. (The fact that I have to contain it for 8 hours out of the day while at work might be a driving factor as well.) I doubt I feel anger more than any other emotion, it's just that its presentation is usually the most explosive and the most visible.

I do not like to hide what I am feeling, though of course I recognize when it is necessary. I believe that, for me, a frequent expression of emotion is not only healthy, but pretty much necessary. Why is that?

The reason is simple: I am incredibly empathic. It is just one of those things about myself that I recognize to be both a strength and a weakness, and I endeavor endlessly to ensure that it is a good thing while minimizing its ill effects.

This means that I am very capable of identifying with how someone else is feeling, internalize their emotions, and process them in my brain while looking through their eyes. I am not the BEST at this, but I am a damn sight better than most people I know.

At the same time, as I feel what I myself have a right to feel in day-to-day life, the sheer amount of emotion I contain inside myself is full to bursting. To avoid breakdowns, explosions, gratuitous acts of mindless violence, or moments of severe hyperactivity, my solution is to wear my emotions on my sleeve, letting them out in small to moderate bursts in order to prevent a meltdown of epic proportions.

Some people have pointed out that maybe I don't have to be so empathic when it comes to other people. Others have mentioned that by firing my anger off at someone, am I not caring what they think or feel of it, thereby making me a hypocrite?

The first question is easy to answer. I do it because I want to. I do it because it is what helps me understand the people around me and in so many ways it is also why I am so damned good at my job. I do it because I care, because in knowing how and why someone feels the way they do, I am able to help them should they need it—whether it is to help them see a solution to their problem, or to help them understand (or be understood by) someone else.

This particular need of mine (the need to be the person that people go to for help and advice, when asked, of course) has earned me an online nickname that explains the title of this post: "Dr. Phviv," a tongue-in-cheek mashup of the infamous, moustached, balding Dr. Phil and, of course, my beautifully hair-styled self.

It goes somewhat beyond the simple shoulder leaning; I offer not comfort, but understanding and solutions. You all know as well as I do that I am heavily opinionated (see Part 13), and that generally means I will always have something to say about one's situation. Still, I listen and try to speak only when asked to do so. I do not judge, I empathize, and put my advice in a form that they will understand. When it does come time for me to talk, my honest and upfront nature (as evidenced in pretty much every single one of these posts) is what has people believing that I am not saying what I'm saying to make them feel better. I'm saying what I'm saying to help them understand and solve a problem.

This is a part of myself that I refuse to give up; a part of myself that I recognize is fueled by my empathy, and I have accepted it and all its implications in the form of a necessary evil.

What about the second question, then? "...By firing my anger off at someone, am I not caring what they think or feel of it, thereby making me a hypocrite?"

This is one of those things that makes me wish I were a significantly better person, but then again I do realize that I am only human. I can't help everyone, and were I to sensitize myself to making sure I don't tread on any toes at all, I think I would lose a lot of my passion and character. There is no "magic personality" that makes someone the very best of the best. This, I recognize with a heavy heart, is a flaw that I do make an effort to minimize, but never to eliminate, as it is the cost of being someone I love being.

A lot of that thinking comes from the fact that while I am always willing to help (and give my all when doing so), I do pick and choose to whom I afford that privilege. Past experiences have taught me rather harshly that you cannot please everyone and, perhaps most importantly, that going all out for just anyone will only have you end up a heavily trodden doormat.

Rather than seal myself off to people who might hurt me, I simply scare the weak ones away, keeping the stronger ones, the ones who know who I really am, by my side. It is for these people that I will do absolutely anything for; they need only ask.

Natural selection, if you will. To be fair, though, I am almost always nice at the outset and I am so good at making a good first impression if I wanted to do so. I just quickly turn into a bit of a bitch and then switch back to sugarcoated goodness when I think the receiving party has had enough.

I will help as many people as I can, but I can't help everyone. It helps that people know they can come to me without even asking, because with the people I like or am close to, I am so very open with them about my thoughts and feelings that they know they can be just as open with me. I am honest and upfront with them, so they know they can be the same way with me without fearing any negative repercussions. If you see me in this light, then it means I like you, because I have shown you that side of me.

Call me a hypocrite or something synonymous if you like, but I will have you know that I have helped so many little girls and boys find their parents while lost in a supermarket or mall or store simply because I wanted to. And because if I didn't, no one else was going to do it.

Knowing that I am a nice person at heart, that I am a nice person a hell of a lot more often than I am a mean one, is what makes me glad that I have come to terms with both the very best and the very worst of myself. The people who think I am mean more than I am nice are, quite frankly, perhaps the kind of people whose opinion I don't particularly value, so hey, why the hell should they have any kind of impact on my self-image?

If you are reading this, rest assured that you are one of those people I would be there for, no questions asked, if you needed me. It doesn't even matter how well you think you know me; more often than not, if you find me approachable and want to talk to me, then that means that I am more than willing to talk to you, no matter the topic. There's very little we can talk about nowadays that will freak me out, and I will never, ever judge you. Trust me. I am here for you.

You know where to find me if you need me.

TL;DR: Dammit you SE++ fags (Javen and Sil I am looking at you dudes so hard right now) it's not THAT long you lazy bastards! (Oh ok I actually I just scrolled up and it IS pretty long but it is me being soft and squishy and everyone loves THAT right, RIGHT?)