Self-pity starts with anger. I write a story in the head about who is getting in the way of my efforts. I come very close to being like a dog, whose feet are shocked from the floor of the cage. My will saps with the expectation of getting more shocks, held captive within four walls of my making. Negative thoughts bulldoze any voice of solution. My anger takes an even bigger role in decisions and I float passively in the ooze of righteous indignation.
Who dares say that I can let go of the insane repetition of wasteful tasks and putter around in circles? How dare you tell me what I can and cannot do? And that face you put on while your mouth spews forth the proposal of a better idea. Worse! You say I should just walk away from it all! Can you see my face? And did you hear what I just said? Do you see my teeth flashing while I put down your way of life? Let’s repeat this again and again! I can do this all night long while laying in the dark with the covers over my head. I can come up with a million make-believe scenarios where I’m on the cross, bearing my wounds and saying “Just finish me”.
But screw it. I’ll sit at the table with my laptop and type every single word. A conversation in my head can be a story on the screen too.
- Sweet Poison of Self-Pity (pamboyd.wordpress.com)