The waiting game

In the 24 hours since the commencement ceremony ended, I've thought a lot about a few things.

First of all, good God it's warm. Potsdam's errant weather never ceases to amaze me. How we're all surviving here, despite the threat of pneumonia and bronchitis, I'll never know. We've probably built some superhuman tolerance to sudden weather changes, in which case-- bring on global warming. Insert sarcmark here.

I've also thought about our natural defenses against things like heat and emotions. When it's too hot, we struggle for a few minutes and then make atmospheric changes. We either physically remove a layer of clothing or utilize some method of cooling, like a pool or a cold shower, or we change the way the air itself feels with fans and air conditioners. In essence, we manipulate our surroundings until they're comparative to our personal preferences.

Emotionally, we do the same. If someone makes us sad when we do not want to be, we figure out some way to change the way we're feeling. We can be reproachful and vengeful, forcing our antagonists to feel what we're feeling. We can also change the way we're feeling, alleviating the sadness with different impetuses that make us happy. Music, for instance, or a change in scenery.

What happens when we don't have a grasp on any of it? It's easy to encourage people to take control of their situations, but what if these situations are formless? wispy? impossible to see?

The graduation of a few characters in my personal history meant various weighted things. I would no longer have to see them or endure their particular brand of torture, and I'm glad for that, but it also meant that I'll never see them again and I'll never be able to endure their particular brand of torture. It took me all weekend, a few pots of coffee, and some serious alone time to conclude that I was holding onto terrible memories because they were the last tangible connections I had with these people. They were the only things I had left that I could curl up in and feel some sense of familiarity, even though they were the starring roles in virtually every sleepless night.

I was waiting for this release. Now that the pressure is gone and the horrible sinking feeling I had during the ceremony is starting to dissipate, I've realized that the aforementioned emotional baggage was there the whole time, but it was masquerading as something else. I can finally see the situation that I need to change, and in being able to see it, I can finally--and utterly--fix things for myself.

I will miss him. God, I'll miss him. But it's time for him to be out of my life. There are so many things that I would like to say to him, but in the end, it's better that I don't. For his sake and for anyone else's sake who may be caught in the crossfire.

The point of this post was to elaborate on my theory about our natural defenses and how they're all linked, working on one another like the wellness continuum, but this is a good place to stop. When I'm not as mentally exhausted, I'll pick this topic back up and run with it again and see how far I get.

Just remember: never let anyone tell you what you're feeling. They're wrong. If you're upset about something, don't try to ignore. You'll be buried by the invisible tormentors in the end. That's how therapists make so much money, after all-- it takes a massiveass metaphorical shovel to dig through all the crap we let accumulate because it isn't vogue to deal with our problems.

Deal, people, and immediately. I waited a year too long.