Unsad

I don’t want to be sad for everyone. I want to be sad for me. Not the world. It’s a sad sad world right now. Because we are all too connected to each other. We all know about each other’s sad. I am unaware of my own sad. It’s lost. Maybe someone out there is sad for me like I am for everyone else? Maybe no one knows to be? Maybe I’m not sad? Maybe I’m unsad? That’s not a word. The sharp underline says so.

I was a little surprised that unrest was a word and not just me adding un to the beginning of rest to get a word for the feeling of not being rested. I think you can do that. Just add un, ing, ness, and ed. To a word to get a word you want for a feeling you have that you can’t think of the correct word. People make up words constantly. Or they are making words mean other things constantly.

I don’t want to be sad for people. I’m exhausted by the days end when someone tells me a story or many of themselves. We have a new person who over shares. When this happens I do it back. If they start it I can not stop myself. “He started it!!” I yell to myself. I don’t know my own boundaries when others either don’t know theirs too or are that comfortable with them to leap on past and share it all. Is it that they can sense I’m someone who is worthy of a good story? I over share with only those who first let me know they have misery. Mine likes company. My anxiety loves a good anxious friend but really needs a good anxious friend who can keep there anxious less, I need leaky calm not leaky anxious. I know better my anxious does not. It can sense a chance to share it all in a split second giving me no time to set out the rules of this new person who also can’t set their rules fast enough. Two people ready to jump right over the edge into the abyss of sharing too much.

I like people who will set that fence and make me see it to stop. When I can finally see I’m being pulled in I abruptly stop and leave them to go over alone. I say. “I’m sorry this is more of a quiet game, one I play alone or with very few, this abyss jumping over is dangerous and unknown, you didn’t stop me, I need fences.” Then I turn around in mid air and go back. Leaving them confused. Im not a good first day of work person to work with. I need a bit more distance before someone is plopped into my world and stirs it up.

I dreamt a mountain lion was near. I was in a branch standing and then turned and he was right there. I was in my local park so it didn’t make any sense. Once I was camping there and swore I heard one. It was the loudest noise I had ever heard. I was scared to death. Alone, and in the woods. Which I love but am scared to death of. Weird right? I intentionally do it to. I go to face my fears. Because I love it so much. But that night I was convinced it was a mountain lion. To the point I googled the sounds they make and convinced myself enough to call a few days later and leave a message with the staff that they had a mountain lion in their park in the middle of Illinois. No one called me back. I’m sure they were laughing just listening to the message from me. In discussions over this with someone I was told I heard raccoons fighting. They pulled up the noise also via google and it was dead on. I’ve had raccoons since then prove this true in real life by fighting over my tent and falling onto my tent in the middle of the night in the middle of the woods alone. You have to expect this. I am in the woods in the middle of the night alone. Under trees with animals. Just not mountain lions but never alone.

This mountain lion has visited my dreams several times. The made up one. He is telling me things aren’t true. Not everything is true I’m thinking. Hé came and sniffed the bottom of my tree and then walked away slowly on the carpeted forest floor that seemed to actually be my living room with me in a tree. Dreams are like that. When you have them. They make no sense leaving you to make them make sense.

Why would I want to be so sad. It feels so selfish to be. To just lay around and be sad. To cry all day. To eat oddly. Not feed others, not engage in life from the so sad. Am I avoiding doing this? Is it healthier to avoid as a coping skill or give in? Give in and just let go of the others sad to be with your own. In such a selfish way when so many others need me to be sad for them. I am selfish. That’s what is being said of anyone who leaves home and doesn’t wear a mask and is afraid to be brave. It’s selfish to go out and put others at risk. It’s selfish to sit and think of yourself. I have heard it half my life from someone who was selfish. That if I wasn’t thinking of him I was selfish. It is difficult to undo. Which is not doing it is undo.

It comes easier for me to think of others misery. Mine is somewhat too miserable to think of. It’s also not. Everything that got me to here is what got me to here. All the shame, misery, anxiety, fear. It’s my fate. I love my fate. I’m a lover of my fate. No matter what it all was to get to here. I am grieving in my own way now. It’s unfamiliar territory from years of grieving someone else’s way. Which was no way. Everything I’m thinking is not true. I am sad, it’s just not coming out like tears. Unsad. It’s coming out with unsettled, unresolved, unrest, undo, unsad, untrue, under control. It’s coming out in ways that I am just adding letters to words to make them work the way I need them to. Words work for me. I’m just unsad. Sad for me might just be sad for others.