My friend is trapped in a shame spiral
I'm worried about my friend's survival
Waiting around on the sea to collapse
Sticking his foot in his own traps
~ “Point Shirley” by Rhett Miller
Who believes the bullshit line that ‘misery loves company’? I don’t know anyone who desires the presence of others when they are miserable. Truly, when a person is wallowing in one’s own self-pity, the pleasure derived from another person’s company is lost in the flood of melancholy. This is why in the movies; depressed characters are surrounded by empty food containers, dirty dishes, and an unpleasant aroma which inhibits up-close communication with another person. This also explains why happy people are the last creatures in the world that a miserable person wants to encounter.
On the other hand, bitterness does, indeed, love company. Bitter people are only able to sustain their bitterness through human interaction. Admit it; right now you have an image of someone in your head who fits this description. They believe in entitlement; well, at least their own entitlement. The only joy they get is by seeing someone else’s misery. These people suck.
*COMPLETE CHANGE OF TOPIC*
I couldn’t even think of a segue to go from bitter people sucking to my latest accomplishment. The other day, I wrapped and tagged a majority of my Christmas presents. Yes, I realize that it is only July. But, I have found that my holidays are a lot more special when I am not overwhelmed with stress. I enjoy buying gifts for people; but I would rather do so when the rest of the world is not hustling and bustling (shoving and pushing) through the retail world alongside me. There I was wrapping presents in the formal living room when Mi Madre walks in and sits on the loveseat, just watching me. I acknowledged her presence and explained that I was wrapping Christmas presents.
Her facial expression was transformed from curiosity to concern.
‘Honey, is everything alright?’
‘Yeah. I just want to get this taken care of.’
‘Are you dying of some disease and just don’t want anyone to worry?’
‘Um . . . no. Just trying to reduce my holiday stress.’
‘’Are you sure you aren’t wrapping them all now because you don’t plan on being around at Christmas?’
‘Yes, I am sure I am not hiding a terminal illness. I intend on being here for Christmas.’
Then she gave me the stare that mothers give when they are trying to seek out a lie or get some sort of confession from their children.
‘Seriously, Mom, I am fine’
My mother is a constant worrier. If we aren’t in her presence, and she cannot get a hold of one of us, she is sure we are ‘dead in a ditch or worse’. I never know what ‘or worse’ entails and I don’t ask. I understand that mothers worry – but mine does so on overdrive. Love comes in all forms – I suppose.
Peace! Love! & Rock-n-Roll!
PERSONAL NOTE: I wish I were in NYC with you.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Maybe in the next lifetime, timing will be right.
