What can I say?
This has been my response to the question of why I've not posted anything in a while. And the horrors of this weekend only serve to reinforce that answer.
Working the night shift does more to a person like myself with social awkwardness issues to further distance me from the rest of humanity. It's not just a job, it's a lifestyle. One in which isolation and disorientation to almost all other people becomes easier if not preferred.
Add to the mix my possibly genetic misanthropy (I have a theory), my enduring physical disabilities limiting most activities (I'm not going to hop on a bike and join Ric on his treks), my hardcore beliefs in atheism and existentialism and, of course, my alcoholism and well, I'm not too keen on belting out "Kumbaya" in a hand-holding circle any time soon.
The fact I work in the field of mental illness is yet another layer of alienation. Over the years in my experience, I've learned there's a razor thin line separating sanity from the alternative. And part of me questions whether anyone is truly sane. Maybe, just maybe, evolution of our species favoring the hyper-development of our brains has "progressed" too far and for the past few millennia we've started going "over the top" to the point where we're now all fucked. We're all born with a degree of insanity and there's no turning back. Evolution is not always favorable to the ultimate survival of an organism. Many times, history has shown, it's been a species' downfall leading it directly to extinction.
I sit here still reeling from the Pulse nightclub massacre here in my hometown and I just don't know what to say.
I kinda just want to lie in bed and sleep. Sleep for hours, days, weeks, years. Sleep until nothing matters anymore. Until nothing can hurt me anymore.
Oh don't worry. This isn't me surrendering. I'm not about to lie down and die. But I'm also not going to scream out for revenge. These two responses to stress can both lead down a path to self-destruction. But I can't think of an appropriate coping action right now. I'll leave that intelligent option to be posited by others out there. I know they're there. Some of us are still only mildly insane and can lead the way for the others of us. I hope. I can only hope. Is it too much to hope for?
This has been my response to the question of why I've not posted anything in a while. And the horrors of this weekend only serve to reinforce that answer.
Working the night shift does more to a person like myself with social awkwardness issues to further distance me from the rest of humanity. It's not just a job, it's a lifestyle. One in which isolation and disorientation to almost all other people becomes easier if not preferred.
Add to the mix my possibly genetic misanthropy (I have a theory), my enduring physical disabilities limiting most activities (I'm not going to hop on a bike and join Ric on his treks), my hardcore beliefs in atheism and existentialism and, of course, my alcoholism and well, I'm not too keen on belting out "Kumbaya" in a hand-holding circle any time soon.
The fact I work in the field of mental illness is yet another layer of alienation. Over the years in my experience, I've learned there's a razor thin line separating sanity from the alternative. And part of me questions whether anyone is truly sane. Maybe, just maybe, evolution of our species favoring the hyper-development of our brains has "progressed" too far and for the past few millennia we've started going "over the top" to the point where we're now all fucked. We're all born with a degree of insanity and there's no turning back. Evolution is not always favorable to the ultimate survival of an organism. Many times, history has shown, it's been a species' downfall leading it directly to extinction.
I sit here still reeling from the Pulse nightclub massacre here in my hometown and I just don't know what to say.
I kinda just want to lie in bed and sleep. Sleep for hours, days, weeks, years. Sleep until nothing matters anymore. Until nothing can hurt me anymore.
Oh don't worry. This isn't me surrendering. I'm not about to lie down and die. But I'm also not going to scream out for revenge. These two responses to stress can both lead down a path to self-destruction. But I can't think of an appropriate coping action right now. I'll leave that intelligent option to be posited by others out there. I know they're there. Some of us are still only mildly insane and can lead the way for the others of us. I hope. I can only hope. Is it too much to hope for?