Bigger Than Big

"Drama," "disaster," "tragedy,"...it goes on and on. These terms (and many more) illustrate the extent of the situation that you are "dealing with." But are they ever really that bad? When we look at ourselves in the mirror and think we look "fat" we exclaim "oh my goodness I look OBESE," or when we don't have much money we suggest that we are "poor." These are just a minor few examples ofcourse. What I am trying to say is that today we exaggerate every circumstance, to make it sound so much worse that it reall is. But what about the ACTUAL poor or morbidly obese person-what do they have to measure they extent of their situation to? Can they exaggerate? Also, could these "exaggerations" be responsible for the rising rate of depression, especially amongst adolescence? Many people say that "materialism" is to blame, although I would say that it is a result of a lack of comparison. Today, people are so ready to state the worse, that they feel as though there is nothing "worse" to compare themselves to-so when they do become worse, have they really hit rock bottom?

"I look like a pig." How depressing. Could you possibly compare yourself to anything worse or more degrading? Once you "...look like a pig" how much worse can you really look? ...And then the downward spiral begins.

So what do we do about it? Personally I do not think there is anything you can really do. This "exaggeration" is a prophecy that has been accumilated predominantly into western society amongst teens, and there would have to be a complete social overhaul prior to any significant change.

This post is just a thought I came across the other day when I looked in the mirror and said out loud "I look like a cow!" No, ofcourse I dont really look like a cow, but then I stopped and questioned my exclamation. "A cow?" Did I really look like a "cow?" I then realised that I was upset because I degraded myself. I compared myself to a derogatory animal and understandably I felt really mediocre about it.

So no. We never really look like cows or horses or squirrels. We look like humans-whether big or small we are human. I will no longer (voluntarily) degarde myself by comapring myself to a large animal again, and will correct anyone around me who does so.

Letting Go

Aleen is right about me. I really do sway from one extreme to another. I am either too happy or too sad; I either have too much money or too little, either dress really nicely or look really daggy. I just cannot seem to find a happy medium. And it is the same thing with “them.”

Gassia has a pattern. All of her boyfriends all have the same “look” about them; dark skin and spiky hair, and Anno, well she has just been with the same guy for almost forever. What about me? My pattern? I really don’t have one. I guess I am as random as the weather. Some aspects of their personalities match; for example I like insecure guys because I have a fantasy of being their so-called “saviour”, but besides that nothing seems regulated or even “thought about” for that matter.

It is extremely difficult to even begin to properly describe what I am trying to tell without stating names. Actually, I will make up names for the purpose of this article. A few years ago I fell head over heals with Fred. I had “known” him for a while, we went to the same high school and he was even my assistant basketball coach, I even thought he was extremely good looking, but we never really took any interest in one another. And then it happened. He had graduated high school, I was on my second last year and he continually approached me, at friend’s houses, at the shops, at functions... Honestly I really didn’t think much of him. I always thought, “What would he, someone who is older and more mature, want from a high school girl like me?” I guess that is just the thing about “great loves,” you never really expect them. So yeah, I fell in love. And then he just stopped. He stopped speaking to me, he stopped knowing me, and he just stopped. That’s another thing about this prophecy known as “love.” It is nothing but a chase. Somebody wants you they chase you. Once they have you they don’t want to play anymore. So you could imagine how my world came crashing down. Way, way down.

What I loved most about Fred though was his vulnerability. He was insecure and extremely shy. When he met someone new, he barely spoke, unless of course he was spoken to. He just had this innocence about him. He didn’t believe in himself, which is why he would spend his Saturday nights getting extremely drunk at UN until about 5am, which is why he never had a proper job, which is why he lied a lot about his past, which is why he lied about his future, which is why he cut off relationships, partly because he thought he was never good enough, which is why he felt like he had to put down others. Don’t ask me why but I fell in love with all that. I had this fantasy that I would tame him. I would make him a better person and he would love me more because of it. I dreamt that I would be the dominant party in the relationship and that he would just…I don’t know…let me. But boy was I wrong. He didn’t want any part in my fantasy; he barely even wanted to know me. I think creating a distance between us was his way of telling me that I knew too many of his secrets and he didn’t want me around in case I revealed them. Being in love of course I refused to listen to any of the signs and I tore down walls, eventually tearing apart my own heart, for him to pay attention to me.

And then I gave up. I had to. I just threw in the towel. He had won. He didn’t want me so I left him alone. I left and as soon as I did he found someone new. I always secretly hoped that it wasn’t me that was the problem, that it was him. That he was the one afraid of commitment, and that if he wouldn’t be with me he wouldn’t be with anyone. Could I have been more stupid? All along he was telling me, in not so many words, to leave me alone but I just kept holding on until finally when I did let go he swung right into somebody else’s arms. I saw him a little bit after he began seeing his new girlfriend. I hugged him and told him I missed him. He didn’t reply. The signs were screaming and this time I listened. I pulled away and have never “touched” him again. Until today I have never stopped thinking about my “great unrequited love.” I wait for the day that I will see him again. I also await his response. When will he ever tell me that he misses me to?

I suppose “getting over” was made a little easier by my next affiliation. I wont say that he was a great love, but rather a great mistake. Thomas, as I will refer to him, came into my life a little over a year ago, and has haunted my thought ever since. We spent time together, spoke together, laughed together and even bled together, but all that was never good enough. He told me about previous heartaches and how his trust in the opposite sex had been hindered. He told me how he let them become close to him, and then they betrayed him. I think he was telling me as if to either warn me, or educate me. It is funny. He knew I was good, he knew I would do ANYTHING for him and yet he kept me at an arms length. One day close and the next distant, one day nice and the next cruel. His fluctuating moods caused my heart and emotions to do the same. When he was “good” I felt great; when he was “bad” I just wanted to die. He knew the effect he had on me, he knew how he made me feel, and yet he continued to act. I just don’t understand how someone could know they were inflicting pain onto another being, and just keep doing it?

Why did I put up with so much? In retrospect believed that if I held through in the end we would together be in a perfect relation, whatever that is. Oh how naïve of I. For someone who is meant to be “intelligent” I sure can be stupid sometimes.

That is when I changed my mind. I didn’t want to feel this way anymore; helpless. My “happiness” was in the hands of someone else, someone who was breaking my heart on purpose. Someone who was crude and selfish and who didn’t care what pain he caused me. I ended my relationship with him and I haven’t looked back. I must admit our good days were “good,” but in no way did they outweigh the “bad.” Yes, I do miss him, but I am also strong. I have overcome any nostalgic feeling I may have and have come out on top. This emancipation was much easier that initially thought, you just have to decide to “free” yourself. And I did, and now everyday is a “good” day.

So, I guess Aleen is right. I suppose I do sway from one extreme to another. And although I may not always see the truth straightaway, when it knocks at my head, I always answer.