I Am Legend January 6, 2008

Friday after work I  wanted something to do so I went to the movies and saw I Am Legend. I did not sleep that night. I would turn off the light, but I would be wide awake and immediately I would think of the head zombie, the screamer, the one with the plaid shirt (Really.  They’re still covering their privates after 3 years of zombiehood?). Then I would turn on the light and keep reading. I did this until about 4:30am when sleep finally took over; then I would up on my own 3 hours later.

One of the things I do as a recovering SHA is to really explore why something keeps coming up. The movie was not that scary (actually I was a wreck, but as I age I seem to be less tolerant of horror movies), so I had to assume something deeper was going on. In the morning, I let myself just think of the head zombie, what he looked like, why he in particular was in my head. I realized this: I was not afraid that he would jump into my bedroom and get me. I kept thinking about him because I was afraid of becoming him.

Huh? You ask. Well when I really thought about it, he didn’t seem as scary as he seemed… familiar. Close. Reasonable even. He’s stuck in a dead-end job and he’s hungry all the time.  How is it I went to this movie and identified more with the zombie than the Hero, or even the Tough Chick, or the Kid — or even the dog for crying out loud?!?!! Then it hit me: 5 days into it, I realized it was another year and I still hated my life.

The head zombie with that primal, loose-jawed, desperate scream could be me. Going back to work, alone, fat, unfulfilled, still. Another year and my life it still basically the same as the year before, and the year before that, and the year before that ad nauseum. That started a crying jag that lasted at least 30 minutes.

I have big changes planned for this year, although I’m too chicken to say they are my resolutions. Because I remember having big changes planned for previous years. Change is terrifying. You never really know what you will become.  So much energy and hope are put into becoming this new thing, so if it doesn’t work out it’s incredibly depressing. Not changing, however, is even more terrifying. I have a hint of the desperation I hold and I don’t like it one bit.

Venting is for the weak October 9, 2007

How many times have I listen to friends vent? How many times have I said to a friend at work “Do you have a second? I just have to vent.”  Then I go on to give a long, detailed account of one of the total outrages, little tortures, and various goings on of life in the cubes. (Don’t even get me started on venting about men. It’s just too much.)

Why do these little (purely perceived?) slights get to me so? I don’t know, but I know it’s a waste of my energy. Venting is the response of the powerless. You vent to “get it out of your system”, but it’s not really out of your system. You hold onto it as bitterness and frustration and despair.

I don’t want to vent anymore. I say stop venting and act. Confront. Dare. I never believe I’m powerful enough to do a damn thing about anything that happens to me. I just say ‘yes’ to whatever happens. And then vent. The people I find fascinating are the people who don’t vent. Something happens and you know they must be pissed off, but they don’t go to anyone and say “and she said… and I was like… I couldn’t believe… blah blah blah.”  People who don’t vent put their energy into taking action. They know they can change things.

Those people intimidate the hell out of me.

They just honestly say what they think. What a concept!! I’m breathless just thinking about it. And people respect them for it! They put their energy into action, not venting. Venting means you’re stuck and you’re not really going to do anything about what pissed you off, and you’re not going to communicate the feelings to the person you really need to. It’s the path of least resistance.

But, If I really said everything I thought, I’d get fired. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I’ve got to start being honest at some point, if I’m going to help myself. Right?