After an awful week of unspeakable trauma and pain, I woke up on Saturday. Yes, I meant that literally and figuratively. I woke up after ten hours of solid sleep. I woke up after 120 hours of absolute insanity. Insanity, in this case, being defined as 'overreaction'. Now for all of you who read Billy Budd, remember you this:
"Who in the rainbow can draw the line where the violet tint ends and the orange tint begins? Distinctly we see the difference of the colors, but where exactly does the one first blendingly enter into the other? So with sanity and insanity."
violet to orange
sanity to insanity
love to hate
understanding to annoyance
forgiveness to betrayal
reaction to overreaction
Where do they end? Is there ever an answer?
Psh, no.
It all depends on who you are and who is analyzing your actions.
But I have always expressed an annoyance for overreactionary people. Drama queens, kill 'em all! As I traversed the line between sanity and insanity, though, I crossed the line between love and hate, forgiveness and betrayal, and in my overreactions I grew more understanding and less annoyed by melodramatic persons. However, as I realized my overreactions, I was unable to stop. The slippery slope argument holds true, my dears. And I grew annoyed with myself.
Why was I acting like a normal person? For godssake, I'm NOT a normal person. Or, I wasn't supposed to be. I'm the intimidating feminist who needs no one. No support, no affection, no encouragement, no one. WHAT CHANGED?! What could I do about it? I oscillated from feeling utter pain to feeling ecstatic. My mood changes seemed simultaneous. I had never felt so ALIVE, so in tune with the little devil on my shoulder.
And yet, I said at the beginning that I woke up. If I was so alive, then why did I need to wake up?
Because, real life does not happen like that. You cannot be that unstable without being diagnosed as manic-depressive or just plain crazy. There is a point when you have to take control of your emotions, funnel them into something productive. And that is hard. So hard. Harder than calculus, harder than running a marathon, harder than anything you can insert in the blank. But you have to wake up. You have to recognize that those people who are helping you along, making you cookies and brownies, handing you kleenexes, talking to you constantly, they have problems, too. Some of those problems are most likely more important than yours, too. Perhaps they go home crying every day, too. Perhaps they can't eat, either. Perhaps they feel nauseous for absolutely no reason. Perhaps they need you to wake up once in a while.
It's alright to indulge yourself a bit. God knows, I indulged myself for way too long. And now I feel drained. I feel overly sensitive, like I just spent a day outside being whipped by the wind. I can't give my all to those who need it. I spent too much on myself. And I feel guilt. Overwhelming guilt. Because I have woken up. Seriously, those kids in India really DON'T have enough to eat. I can get over myself now. And so can you.
I have been acting out for myself with my pre-pubescent mentality, and though I am so thankful for those who have been playing along with me, it is time for me to take off that godawful mask and become myself again. However, myself is not that intimidating feminist girl, myself is an empathetic person who truly did learn an important lesson. One which each of us must learn in our own time, but one which requires the support which I believe I am now ready to give as those closest to me gave freely to me.
I apologize for my overreactions, but can't I be given a bit of a break? Can't I stay on the forgiveness side? Do I have to be branded a Judas? After all, without Judas, we wouldn't be here right now. Of course I meant all of those words when I said them, but now, I will try to say words that will force you to believe that I really did change. I changed my mind. And I believe that I have thrown those silver coins back at those judgmental people whom I have just recently abandoned.
However, belief and delusion are on the same line of uncertainty...Who can tell what will happen tomorrow? Who knows how many more awakenings until I reach my final maturation? No one can decide that but me.
Good luck, self!
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