The Need for Balance

How much should we sacrifice for the people we love? How much of ourselves should we give away to those who we care about? Whether that's our time, our beliefs, our opinions, our faith. How much is too much?

My time is endless for those who I care about. For those who have proven they give a damn. Sometimes, if you're lucky, my time is endles for those who have yet to prove they give a damn, but I'm digressing somewhat...

What does it mean (metaphorically) to sacrifice ourselves? To give up hours of time without complaining? Making the first contact time and time again. Fighting for something that maybe the other person doesn't want to fight for. Fighting for each other. Fighting for them. Exhausting yourself. Overthinking every little thing. Trying to grab some logic out of the whole idea. Turning the concept upside down and inside out.

Have you ever noticed that we're much better at identifying too much sacrifice when it is coming from other people. You're standing watching Sally Brown bend over backwards to make sure that Joe Bloggs is happy with whatever situation is thrown at him. You watch her get exhausted with the entire situation. You can see it from a differnt angle and you can't figure out why, when it's so clear that she's sarcrificing much more then him that Sally is continuing to do it. It's so obvious it would be laughable, if it wasn't so sad. And the more Sally gives, the more lazy Joe Bloggs get. It's eas to see when it's someone else. When you're watching from the sidelines you have this handly little thing called Perspective.

Except one day you look in the mirror and realise that, actually, you're Sally Brown.

Too much sacrifice is when the balance is firmly in the hands of one person, I think. When you're busy giving, keeping quiet on points that might offend, making the first effort and this other person just keeps taking. Who doesn't slow you down and make you take a minute for yourself. Who doesn't bother sacrificing stuff for you. Who refuses to fight for you. They get lazy. Bored. So when the fight leaves you, (which it will) you no longer care. You've sarcificed too much and now you're exhausted.

It's a two way street. And it's not a blameless one. It's all well and good for someone to take, but in order for someone to take, there has to be someone giving and vice versa. The two co-exist with each other. Different pieces of the same coin. And like everything else in life, stretching from chocolate bars and vegetables to work and vacations, it require a little balance.

Otherwise it falls apart.

People Who Love You

We all have a past. We all have secrets. Dark skeltons that lurk in the dark corners of our minds. We all have things we haven't been able to utter for the fear of the reaction that they might cause. Our past shapes us, creates us, moulds us into who we were a week ago, who we are right now, who we will be in a year. Our experiences alter us. Our relationships with people give us a basis for future relationships.

But despite our experiences, sometimes we still manage to fall into the same trap that we found ourselves in maybe 2 weeks ago, maybe seven months ago or prehaps even 2 years ago. Sometimes we have a complete inability to learn from our screw-ups. And when they repeat themselves, we're left standing clueless as we were the first time it happened.

Admittedly, the confusion would be easier to recognise if we could only stop hurting. The constant dull thump of saddness that engulfs us, renders us stupid and blank. Unable to do anything except stay still and try not to think too hard.

Because, all of a sudden, we've been left to make sense of an entire situation we did not see coming. A situation which is looking more and more impossible. The emotions we're feeling defy reason. We know because we are actually being reasoned with. We're even acknowledging the logic in what people are saying. It seems irrelevant though because all we want to do is talk to whoever is causing the hurt and just simply understand. Understand their reasons for doing this. Because from where you're standing, it isnt making much sense.

At some point though, while we're still hurt by events, a slow realisation creeps over us. That not everything in our life is ruined. That we are still standing. Maybe not as strong as we'd like, but we're still here. Just a little less. But we're not broken. Slightly fractured, sure. But irretrivably shattered. Not quite.

Because, if you're lucky, you will still have good people in your life. People who are willing to listen to you as you sit and mope and try to make sense of it all. People who stand by you. People who only have to hear your voice for a moment, that dulled "Hey" to realise somethings wrong and who are immediately asking you whats wrong, whats happened. Sometimes, you'll have friends drop everything to come take you out for a drive and just let you talk and ramble on and on as you try to move forward from this. People who are just there to remind you that you're an awesome person who doesn't deserve to be treated this way. It's down to these people...these friends that you can feel the fractures around your bones healing.

And slowly, ever so slowly, you can feel yourself getting better, standing a little straighter, concentrating on other facts, on other topics. The hurt is receding. Not totally gone, not by a long shot. But knowing you have other people. People who genuinely care. Who will help you through this.

People who love you.

the logical route to messy relationships

For someone who struggles with basic maths, i've always found there has always been something comforting in logic. In the simple understanding that 1+1=2. The result will still be the same, no matter what the possible variables may be.

People, I'm still learning, do not fall into this category.

Unlike the basic comforting notion that x+y=xy, people tend to defy the clear lines of logic that bind algebra. No person I've met has been predictable in their emotions or actions. They all are as equally messy as I am. All with a back story you wouldn't guess.

So when people collide together in the pleasant idea we like to call "friendship," as personalities clash and feelings develop - feelings not necessarily of love or lust, but of affection, of protection, of general caring - things are going to get messy. The initial honeymoon period of the friendship wears off and rather then having this new, exciting person; instead you have this old person who now trusts in your friendship enough to call you on your shit.

But you're not those old friends. Those friends that trust each other and have the advantage of a few years of friendship behind them. You're still figuring the other person out. Still trying to make sense of it. You're trying to apply logic to an illogical question. It doesn't work. You have to work out a new method. And you don't always get it right.

Simultaneously, this person is also trying to establish where your boundaries are. You hope. Because if they're not, does that mean that they don't actually care. And if they don't care, then why did they bother pushing themselves into your life anyway?

Because sometimes shit happens. Sometimes you'll be happily minding your own business, getting on with your life. And this person fights there way into your life and you have no idea the impact they will have. And then, it seems, a few months down the line, all of a sudden, they cast you aside. And you don't have any more choice then you had a few months ago. And it really sucks.

And you can't make sense of it. The logic doesn't apply. But what can you do? The free will element of a democracy and basic manners means that if a person doesn't want to be in your life, they get dibs. They get to call the shots while you're still reeling from the blast; bruised, a little bit broken, a little bit shaken. And it hurts.

Meanwhile, the logic refuses to apply. You both aren't forming the same equation. You've switched stuff around, thrown a few brackets in there, and the result isn't the same.

And you can't go back to how it was without dystroying the page.

Maybe thats the idea behind logic. The realistic, logical route would be to forget it all, to move on. Maybe thats best. Maybe you are your own equation. Or maybe it's just the easiest route to take. It allows you to forget when you need it most. When your self esteem has been knocked around like a football for the past four days. Maybe thats what makes logic so comforting.

Maybe we don't need to know why the realistic approach is easiest. Maybe all we need to know is that it is.

That Gut Feeling

A gut feeling. We’ve all had it. That poisonous, toxic sensation that something has gone terribly wrong in our strictly ordered lives. The feeling that the ground beneath us is crumbling while we’re struggling, losing our footing. Collapsing into something deeper then we could ever handle.

We know some people so well that in some circumstances, all it takes is a word for us to register that something isn’t right. Like a hanging frame that isn’t sitting quite right, it’s a subtle change.

(But a change none the less)

Sometimes all it takes is a text out of the blue to cause our lives to become fragmented, cracked. Something so small that we shouldn’t register it.

(but we do)

We automatically think the worst, because in this society, we’ve been programmed to think about the most horrible situation and multiply it by 10. At least that way, if it comes true, you can say you were right.

(Admittedly, being right doesn’t keep you warm at night nor does it keep the demons from spreading themselves over you as you sleep. Neither does it prevent the sadness from engulfing you entirely and completely)

That feeling in the pit of your stomach. The heart in your throat. The faster the breath, the more irregular as you begin to mentally shuffle through those “Worst Case Scenarios” which more often then not involve those we love. Those who we haven’t told how much they mean to us. Because we thought we’d always have time.

(Unfortunately, time always seems to be running out, a fact we realise, but choose to ignore)

And when the phone rings or the doorbell chimes, when some well-meaning fool sits you down and fixes you with a stare that penetrates to your soul, you just know that the news you’re about to hear is something you’d rather not bother knowing.

(After all, ignorance really is bliss)

And the facts come swimming in and collide with a large wall entitled “DENIAL” and no matter how many things keep running into it, your denial stays strong.

Until you wake up and realise that it really is true. That bad things do happen to good people. All we can do is keep on moving forward in this bizarre concept we refer to as “life”

(I’ll take mine with two lumps of denial and a sprinkling of ignorance.)

Spring Cleaning

Today I looked at my room and realised that I couldn’t actually see my carpet.

It was covered with the contents of what seemed like my life. Spread out over a small area. Due to a few school events for the past couple of nights and essays and coursework and organising stuff for our school magazine, I haven’t had the time to sleep, let alone tidy my room. However, seeing as I had nothing (well, I did have some homework) to do on this Saturday, I figured some spring-cleaning was needed.

So it begun. And I was amazed with the amount of stuff I seemed to have kept over a small period of time. I came to the unwanted conclusion that I’m one of those “hoarder” people; people who I physically can’t stand.( Ironic when you consider that I discovered an “S Club 7” band annual among some papers – a band who I haven’t listened to in years – an item I clearly “hoarded” for a particularly depressing day when I decided to relive a childhood dancing to “reach for the stars.” But I digress.)

As I emptied a wardrobe that had become dangerous to open, folded clothes that had been flung on the floor and threw out more pieces of paper then any person needs in a lifetime, I discovered that I was able to work on auto-pilot for most of the day. The mechanical, methodical processes of throwing out the old, finding places for the new was almost soothing. Watching my room transform from a nuclear bomb site to a tidy, clean, organised place was calming.

And call me crazy, but for me at least throwing stuff out, making room, organising. It all makes me cheerful. Really. Nothing makes me happier than sitting down for an hour and organising my files. It’s the soothing process of putting things where they belong. Of knowing where something is once you’ve put it away. It’s healing, when you’re not even certain what needed to be healed.

I wouldn’t say I enjoyed tidying my room, but I can certainly admit that five hours, 1 bin bag and 2 stacks of books later - I was happier. I could finally see my carpet. My bed had been vacuumed with freshly laundered sheets. Everywhere had been dusted. It was comforting to know that it had been done. That lots of things had been thrown out. Space had been created.

It was relaxing to work on a task that required little brain power. A change from what I’m usually doing. I was able to switch off and work. A technique I’ve yet to master fully. I seem to be constantly thinking of seven things at once while attempting to complete three tasks. But spring cleaning managed to relax me. At least for a little while.

And now I sleep.

one of those days

Sometimes we’d all love to get away. To get up and leave everybody who we love, just for a little while. To run away to a place where the world ceases to exist. Where deadlines, exams, people’s questions, they just all stop for a little while. A place to collect your thoughts. A place that is exactly what you need, when you’re not even sure what it is that you need.

A place where all the voices in your head, the voices that take the shape of the many demanding, needy people in our lives, a place where all these voices just pause. Just for a moment. Because sometimes all we need is a moment. A moment to remember who we are and why we’re doing what we’re doing. A moment to bring us back to ourselves. Just a moment.

Sometimes we all need a place where deadlines and homework’s, research projects, rehearsals, magazine deadlines, a place where none of this exists. A place where it all just stops. For a moment.

A place where silence is the only noise you hear, because at this point, that’s what your life has degenerated into. Just noise. The sounds are no long differentiating themselves from each other. They all sound the same. You’ve forgotten the difference between words. You don’t recognise speech. It’s all just gone on to that space in your head that says “make sense of later. Can’t deal with now”

(And don’t lie. We all have a space like that)

Sometimes we all need a place to escape too. But it seems that all of the time, this is impossible. We can’t get up and leave our everyday lives with no contact. We can’t lock ourselves away. It seems that those moments to ourselves are all too rare. All too fleeting. All too non-existing.

So we take a breath.

Stay strong.

Keep going.

a lack of control

Irrationality;

It hits us in unrelenting waves as we strike others around us with weight of the emotion. We have the thought that everybody must be setting out to annoy you today through their own stupidity and complete inability to manage things for themselves. It’s frustrating.
Needless to say, this is what occurred today when I threw a temper tantrum that Veruca Salt would have been proud of. It was compete with a stamping foot, a slammed door and a high pitched wail as I tried to make my point.

Incidentally, the point I was trying to make has managed to escape me, though I’m sure you can all appreciate its importance. However, whatever the reason for my transition back to a spoilt four year old, as far as a justification goes, it manages to fall flat.

Because really, where is the justification in emotion? Emotions are solidly illogical things. They control us. They are the captain of our whole being. They navigate us and there is little we can do except go along with it. Some days we can put up with more than we can on other days. There is no reason for it. No argument can be conjured on either side to defend your mood swings. They are what they are. We are ruled by them.

Mark Twain once said, “Any emotion, if it is sincere, is involuntary,” which in my mind, says it all. We are unable to predict our moods. They have the ability to swing from happy to sad in less than hour. We can’t ignore them either. Or at least, I can’t ignore them. I’ve yet to see the healthy aspects of keeping all your rage locked in like a cat in a crate. And, like the cat in the crate, they always manage to escape at some point. However, it always seems to end much better if you’re the one who lets it out. At least then you know where it’s going.

"To give vent now and then to his feelings, whether of pleasure or discontent, is a great ease to a man's heart"
-Francesco Guicciardini