Moping.

My sick leave from work has taken well over 8 weeks and there's no difference to how I'm feeling. So I been moping. Or maybe not moping so much as generally being very, very atrabilious (nice word, huh? I like nice words. Like like-like). Anyway. I'm straight out evil and highly flammable. I seriously need to learn how to spit fire, that would make for awesome special effects.

Having jumped off of death's shovel - or whatever the correct english phrase for having escaped death may be - once or twice, I know life is a gift. Not in the stereotypical, esoteric we-are-all-part-of-one-happy-colorfl-equation-and-must-cherish-what-mother-earth-gives-us kinda way one hears so often, but physically. My body reminds my every day that there is a piece of it missing, but only a piece of it. It's still running, kicking, breathing. But because my body and I, respectively, are only missing a piece instead of being dead, we're lucky. I'm lucky. Thankyaverymuch.
Being a good person means, besides other things, knowing that acting ungratefully is just as wrong as being ungrateful. Which is where the guilt and the guilty conscience come in. I'm miserable and even more miserable for feeling miserable. I could be awesome instead. Well. I am awesome. But that's in a different story, I'm afraid.
See, I got my life saved. For some reason, there's a dead girl with a missing leg who had a grade point average of 4.0 and plans for her future. And then there's me, moping.

Seriously though. Every day I wake up and check for pain before getting up. And I feel like every day is like entering your local blockbuster and seeing there's a new movie out with ninjas on the cover that promises ninja wars and awesome kaboom and you get happy 'cause ninjas are fucking awesome and the title sounds sick. But in the next second, you remember that ninja movies are hardly ever really any good and therefore, decide not to take it home but to pick something else instead. That way, you don't get disappointed 'cause the ninjas stay awesome in your mind. God, I wish I were a ninja. *sigh*
Back to the point I believe I had before I got sidetracked by ninjas... Here I sit, restless, anxious, angry. Moping. I don't know what to change. I don't know how. But nahmean 2.0 would definitely know what to with herself. And be free of guilt. And know how to spit fire.

Like Guilt with a Guilty Conscience Pt. 1

2.19 am. Got my Laptop in bed with me and I'm wide awake. As wide awake as you can be, if you're not feeling yourself. Now I like the ambivalence in that second part of that last sentence 'cause it sums everything up so perfectly: not in touch with myself, not having any self-perception, seemig like a stranger to myself, not really feeling my body except for this weird anxious fluttering in the general area of my diaphragm and the occasional pain.
So I'm not really like guilt with a guilty conscience, because I don't feel anything right now. But this is where the attack of the attacking things comes in: for the most part of my life, I've been shit on by the people around me. Quite badly, too; no neatness about it. When I look at my life, beyond the official version, anyway, it looks as messy as a frat house Sunday morning. Minus the party. Or maybe, not minus the party, but the party wasn't all that fun to begin with and you would have preferred not to go, at all. Nahmean?
Back to topic though: people have screwed me over. Badly. And I hold a grudge, a completely justified, appropriate grudge. I think it's my right to.

(2.41 am. I just went to the bathroom and stepped on my dog. Bad mommy.)

I believe in Karma. Or rather: I want to believe in Karma. That doing good things somehow pays off and that if you cause suffering, you end up hurting yourself, eventually. That there is some kind of numinous justice, no matter the jurisdiction. Not that anyone would consider me a very religious person, but for some years now, I find myself in a crisis of faith. Because what I want to believe and what life is showing me about itself are very, very different things: the former vs. a nameless terror that contradicts my aboriginal belief in the existence of humanity.
Controversely, I am holding a grudge while claiming to believe in Karma and wondering why good things haven't happened to me. Yes, there have been good things in my life. Like coming back to Vienna, finding my apartment. But these things didn't happen, I made them occur. The "bad things" that happened weren't the self-inflicted kind, though I do keep conveying a responsibility for them to myself. Because I am like guilt with a guilty conscience. I'm in therapy, but I have known for a long, long time what the problem is. Because if I weren't making myself accountable for the bad things that happened, I'd be very angry at a lot of people and life itself. Which I have been, in a way. But only for the past year or so. And anger, even if it's justified, ain't healthy. On the other hand, you do need to feel it at some point, just like the denial and the depression.
Basically, I consider myself a martyrred superhero. Because I know for a fact that certain issues can neither become resolved or acceptable and that being angry about it and admitting that this world is a shitty place and we're all better off just looking out for ourselves, I choose to ignore it and go about doing as much good as I can. Mostly, anyway.
Then I got tired of it and took a sick leave from work. And I guess, that's where I am now, at 3.08 am in the morning, glad I'm not feeling my conscience or anything else, for that matter.


(to be continued)