…’til the words dry out
So put it in all of the papers,
I’m not afraid
They can read all about it – Emeli Sande
Pretty much how I feel today, if only I could let you read all about it. At my last job I had a cupboard I used to shut the door behind me, scream, and them walk out refreshed. I miss that cupboard. I want to write exactly what is in my head right now but I can’t. Well I can, but it wouldn’t take much to spill over into real life and do real damage. It’s a real combination of anger, frustration, futility, loss, confusion, helplessness and sadness all rolled into a giant ball stuck in the middle of my gut.
There are things in my life just now I don’t understand and some others that I really don’t want to; I think if I did it would make things worse rather than better. It sort of follows on from yesterday’s “Fork in the Road” blog and how I see life at the moment in that I can see and feel all these things around me at the moment but I’m not in a position to anything about them without causing real issues for myself and others. I apologise for speaking in riddles, but this is a selfish moment on the blog (again! I here you cry) where I need to let off steam but in a controlled way.
I am quite a naïve and trusting person really. As much as I am pessimistic about things there is a core hope that wants and almost expects good things from people – and no matter how many times my cynical side slopes up to whisper in my ear about the inevitable negative outcome of events and situations there is a gap where I see the potential for good. More often than not I’m wrong, but still I’m not willing to allow the cynic to completely rule my head because I’ve seen too many people to which that has happened and I refuse to become them. I need the hope, the possibility that occasionally – just occasionally – good things do happen to good people. It’s that glint of humanity that gets you through some days and I’m not ready to lose it just yet.
I’m split in my mind at the moment between acting on these things and shouting from the rooftops about the shortfalls and the wrong there is, whereas the other half is saying to keep it bottled up and walk away with some dignity. I know in the end I’ll do the latter because you need to learn to pick your fights. I’m sure I’m not the only one to run scenarios through my head and to imagine what I would love to say out loud to certain people. Especially in dreams, when sleep comes, of standing up to those who are life’s obstacles, the negative people you want out of your life and just for once to look them square in the eye and eloquently and perfectly – like a well rehearsed actor – say what you honestly think about them. That only happens in fiction unfortunately – as the music rises and people get to their feet and applaud your tenacity. In real life there would be a stunned silence, a bollocking and a long walk to the door.
Are we better to bottle up our emotions? We are British after all, it’s our way of doing things. It’s where you would love your life to be scripted by Aaron Sorkin or Russell T Davies so you would say exactly the right thing, with the right words and right rhythm to create the right moment. If we all just said what we thought – a la “Liar Liar” – I doubt we’d be happier because everyone else would have the same freedom and you’d be told several ‘home truths’ of your own, by other people. Your grandstand celebratory moment would be followed by your own dressing down and no-one would be better off. Would they?
Until that age old question is answered I’m going to find a cupboard and destress in my usual way: primal screaming.