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Bad Latin
Quod eros demonstrandum.
When I finish writing this I am going to buy myself some ice cream LIKE A BOSS 
7/7/12 16:07
I have come out of whatever sadness was knocking me to my knees earlier in the week. Over the past few months I have been having a problem where I will start crying uncontrollably for no apparent reason. It happens a lot when I'm at work, and also a lot during choir practice before church. This is pretty scary. I've always been a crier, I've always been given to breakdowns, but I've also always been able to put on a brave face when needed and go let it out later. Not so much now. A few months ago I had a gigantic nonstop breakdown for a good hour or so and had to cancel a bunch of stuff I had planned for that evening. Then last Sunday I had another choir-practice breakdown and somehow for the first time did not bother to, or could not manage to, pull off hiding it. Another choir member came over and gave me a hug and reassurance, and also later emailed me some very kind words. It was incredibly nice but also made me feel very awkward and uncomfortable.

I used to always want to be the center of attention. I constantly volunteered for things like lectoring in church or reading aloud textbook passages in class. I loved theater in high school (our theater department was the tiniest and saddest thing ever, alas) and hated the times I didn't get lead roles. But somehow lately, I have gotten terribly uncomfortable with having people pay attention to me. I went to a kink party a few weeks ago -- a sort of "skill share" get-together -- and ended up stripping down to my underwear and getting bound hand and foot, blindfolded, and lightly spanked. I have never done anything remotely like this before and also barely knew anyone at the party. However, I was not nervous at all. But the part where two people were giving me their full, undivided attention, looking at me and doing things to me ... I was in terror. I had to repeatedly bite back the desire to call the whole thing off so they could go talk to or play with someone more interesting, more worthwhile, more whatever.

Where have these things come from, the crying and the desire to fade into the background? Were they always there and I've managed to clear away enough of my other crazy to unearth them? Or are they new arrivals? That kind of bums me out. I never thought I'd acquire new crazy as I got older. I assumed I'd already hit the lifetime maximum. This discomfort with online relationships is new, too, but I'm still figuring out what that actually means and how to handle it besides volunteering for a lot of stuff in real life that I end up not really wanting to do when the time arrives.


Unrelated thought: maybe I could be a collector, and gather beautiful phrases. I only have two; I feel like you need three examples for a collection. Or is that just for a joke? We've been watching old episodes of How I Met Your Mother and it's interesting to see how often they use that rule of three. (There was one episode where Robin made two puns and then, smirking, announced, "I have a third but I'm not going to say it." I found that tremendously entertaining for some reason.)

Oh, well. I will start here, and maybe someday have enough to give them their own entry.

the ultimate sadness of all vanity
the stars are indifferent to astronomy
7/8/12 0:07 (UTC)

I wish I had advice, but I don't. I've run into a few similar issues myself (none involving kink parties, as I've never been to one, nor do I think I ever will), but I don't have any answers about being comfortable with attention or not.

(Pushing "Post Comment" now, before I decide to just delete this.)
7/8/12 1:07 (UTC)
Thanks for posting -- a lot. It really helps to know I'm not the only person who has stuff like this banging around inside their skull.
7/8/12 1:07 (UTC)
Thank *you* for posting about it in the first place. It helps me too to know that I'm not the only one either. (And thank you for thanking me too; it helps me to know I'm not being an utter idiot, as I all too frequently think I am (rightly or wrongly))
7/8/12 3:07 (UTC) - They could have already been there.
Or it could be that as you've grown, you've realized you don't want the attention but are having a very difficult time making the switch. I don't have any advice, per say, but I do have broad shoulders for a short chick and you're free to cry on them anytime.

Also, I have a beautiful phrase for your collection. It has really helped me through my grieving process.

The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes had no tears. Laurel Burch, artist, from a notebook with her 1999 self portrait on the cover.
7/10/12 0:07 (UTC)
*internet hugs* Your friendship and comments really mean an awful lot to me.
7/9/12 22:07 (UTC)
"...And to enjoy the traveler's fine sense of crisis."
The Death of Justina, John Cheever

This is the only thing that stayed from my American Lit class in college.

I am too tired to have responses to the rest of the post, but I did read it, and I understand some of the attention weirdness.

7/10/12 0:07 (UTC)
I need to read some John Cheever. Lately I am on a big memoirs-by-writers kick, and they all mention him. He is throwing himself in my path, literatureally. (pretend that is a word)
7/15/12 13:07 (UTC)
It totally sounds like a word to me!

I don't remember the rest of the piece at all, but I had to stop in the middle of reading it, and write that one line down for myself. It's beautifully accurate.

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