Sunday, November 13, 2005
Tour de Stampy
There is no explanation, or at least not a complete one. I have a good life, great friends, and a dog who does not fart nearly as much as he could. My childhood was a happy one, my parents are still happily married, and my relationships (while ill fated) have been non-violent and non-destructive. Despite my best efforts to drive my liver to an early retirement, a recent physical shows that I am disgustingly healthy. Yet for some reason, I am completely overwhelmed and want to hide out under a down comforter and cry myself to sleep. Getting out of bed each morning is akin to sitting down for a root canal without the novacaine (Of which I have also had the pleasure).
The slightest wrongs become magnified. Everyone hates me. World disasters are somehow my fault – if I’d only studied harder in college I would have found a way to stop genocide by now. Yes, I realize that not everyone is out to get me, that I am not the center of everyone’s worlds, nor do I have the power to individually right every wrong. There is something very egocentric in all of this I am sure – that doesn’t stop me from hating myself. It just adds self-centered to the long list of things that are wrong with Stampy.
I’ve tried so many things to slow down the ride – medications, meditation, yoga, more alcohol, less alcohol, no alcohol, psychiatrists, bubble baths before bed, Ambien for a good night sleep, more sleep, less sleep, less sugar, more chocolate, aromatherapy (stop laughing), and zinc (don’t ask)…I still can’t do that damn pigeon pose in yoga, the money for the psychiatrist was better spent on massages, and the dog smells like lavender.
Yet still, I am so sad.
Sorry for the downer. Just needed to complain a little bit and didn’t know who else to call.
Have you read Men Are From Mars? They say men need to "go into their cave", well i think women do too... it's just that our cave smells nicer.
Personally? I just think it can really suck to be super smart. All of my super-smart friends struggle with the "I'm miserable/but I'm being so silly/but dammit I'm really miserable" cycle of self-hatred. I've always thought I was about 20 IQ points away from being disastrously unhappy, but some of my smarter friends just didn't get so lucky. And sometimes I do fall into that nasty cycle--just enough to get a sobering glimpse of what you must go through sometimes.
I know this is old; I hope things are better for you now.