My word of the day

Word of the Day

Word of the Day

I see a lot of people stating what their word of the day / week / month / year is. It’s usually ideas like gratitude, love, forgiveness, focus, etc. All worthwhile causes on which to meditate and perhaps to endorse.

 

I’d like to add my word: edit.

I think it’s funny that I choose this word because I have a tendency to go on when I tell stories (one guy that I worked with called them “Betty (my name) stories”. It didn’t occur to me several years later that I was known for my story-telling “style”. I have a flair for “spinning a story” as it may, but I also have difficulty leaving out the details and getting to the point. To me, details are everything, even if I don’t remember them accurately.

I digress. (Of course).

Most people’s stories (including my own) are not really that interesting. I also think that we’re not really that interested in listening to what other people have to say. For one, we’re so busy listening with our own judgements and second, we’re so desperate to tell our own story that we’re reluctant to really listen to what others have to say.

The exception comes when the stories involve celebrities, to which there is endless fascination with the beautiful and the reckless. Think TMZ, People Magazine, or good heavens, Jersey Shore.

Want to keep me interested? Get to the point. I want to hear your story, I think it’s interesting but get to the point or at least ask me questions. See me squirming in my seat? It’s physically impossible for me to listen any longer! Give me a chance to ask questions. Better yet, ask me if something similar has happened to me. Get me involved. There are 7 billion people on this planet. We all have stories to tell!

4 responses to “My word of the day”

  1. Hojney says :

    Hi, it’s me again

    Reading your recent posts the last few days…….missed them when I replied last time.

    Struggling is the right word. It implies some level of suffering, and some measure of toil. It feels tired as it spreads out past those g’s.

    And all the while wondering why it goes on so damned long, this life of misery.
    What the hell is the point? It’s so easy to be immobile. I see myself as a coward. Too fearful and lazy to help myself, to scared to go. But not going is best, let us not hurt the innocent in our lives, it’s not their fault, and ..I feel bad enough now.

    I think ironic…..as I contemplate how I want to leave this life and know I cannot, as death, with it’s own natural order of things, is racing toward me. It’s coming for me, like it or not. I keep telling myself that I am not really in a hurry, it’ll be here soon enough. Hey, it beats praying for a disease, a nasty habit I hope to break.

    I never kept journals, never felt I had anything to say worth hearing, knowing I probably could never be able to keep anything private. When I reread things I’ve written, they look self indulgent and stupid. I’ve occasionally emailed myself, at another address, writing as if to a friend of my various woes. So I’ve done the journaling but not the journals. I say, if rereading them, or knowing you have them feels good, or if they add anything positive to your life, or even if they hold up the shelf, keep ’em. After you are gone, someone may read them, but most likely they will be left somewhere, forgotten and then end up in a dumpster.

    Your inability to contact a therapist is troubling. Geez, is everyone out of touch and a selfish pig?? Has it come to that?

    I’ve not been in therapy. Never wanted to speak of all the black thoughts in my head. I know I could not trust anyone enough to share everything. I know they cannot help me. This thing I have, this thing I am is mine alone. I’ve found various ways of coping, some more successful than others….I teeter and totter but do not fall. This seems to help, this reaching out. For a time.

    Word of the day…I like edit too. I would edit all the time, if I could, with a pair of scissors and an eraser and a blowtorch. There is far too little editing today.

    Dipshidiot is good too. I am this, to a very accomplished degree. Not always, but boy! when I go that way, it is spectacular.

    Stories to tell. Yessireebob. and how. Stories to amuse, inform, disgust. Stories to entertain and distract. I’ve lived many good ones and tell a few. And heard a few that stopped my heart. And every time I think I’ve heard the saddest story ever, someone comes up with an even sadder one.

    Well, I’ve been tired all day, just exhausted. I don’t sleep well, and I am weary of this depressing long day. I will try to sleep now, wishing you all the best!

    Hoj

    • mysideofthedsm says :

      Oh Hoj,

      My apologies for taking so long to respond…

      Where do I start? So many gems in your last two comments.

      I’ve pulled some quotes and replied to each of them individually.

      “I’ve been writing this for a couple of days now. Everything I’ve written has seemed inadequate. It feels ridiculous to try and be happy and uplifting with you (you know better), but I guess my habit of putting on a happy face is a hard one to break. My previous drafts all devolved into platitudes and cheery observances. My god.”

      We are kindred spirits. When I read everything “…seemed inadequate”, I almost fell off my chair. NOTHING I DO IS EVER GOOD ENOUGH. Fuck, it’s exhausting even trying. I read somewhere that people usually have a hard time giving away stuff they create (artwork, knitting, macramé ←Wtf? Where did that come from?) because they love “it” so much. That’s quite the opposite for me. I hate giving people presents because I think they aren’t going to like it. I spend way too much time trying to figure out what to get 5 year-old twins for their birthday. Who gives a fuck? They certainly don’t.

      Writing, especially emails, is also another source of anxiety. Thank god for the backbutton. I agonize over the correct placement of an exclamation mark or a smiley face. (I want to appear excited but not too excited, friendly and approachable, but not like a suck up). That it took you a few days to write your comment IS just PURE AWESOME. THANK YOU!

      (Naturally, my response to both of your comments is going to be inadequate as well, but I’m sure (I hope) you’ll forgive me.)

      “Meanwhile, as opportunities for having a good time arise, I jump on board. It doesn’t seem to work all that well (I still cry myself to sleep more often that I’d ever admit), but Distraction is the way to go…….distract, deflect, avoid, all that stuff.(The mind whispers “keep going!”…”just keep going!”)”

      Yup, been there. I know I need to get out and have fun. All the self-help books and magazine articles say you need to get out there and socialize. How often have I come back feeling worse about myself? Too many times to count. There is the odd time, though, that I have felt better. Thank god. It’s those times, when I am bubbly and entertaining, that I think how much I’ve fooled the people around me. They would never know how black and dark it can be in my mind, in my heart and in my soul.

      I hear that voice too. It has saved me on a few occasions. I call it my guardian angel—God help me if I don’t hear it in those really dark moments.

      “A shame for him to have to go, and a useless sac of flesh like me to still be hanging here, doing nothing….”

      A friend of a friend is fighting to stay alive. She’s got cancer and it’s pretty much terminal. She’s a lovely lady that loves life and does not want to die. Another friend has ALS and will probably only live another two years. She’s got a loving husband and two beautiful young children. These are just two stories of people wanting to live; I know there are many more. I feel terrible that I’ve got life and they don’t.

      “But not going is best, let us not hurt the innocent in our lives, it’s not their fault, and ..I feel bad enough now.”

      Definitely. We can’t hurt the innocent in our life. These people don’t get it. They don’t understand the deep pain that we feel. I know it would “kill” my family, my friends. People would be utterly shocked. They would be confused and blame themselves, when THEY DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG. (As far as I’m concerned—don’t know if you feel the same way?).

      I want to say something like “I hope you find moments of peace”, but that’s not quite how I want to say it. I’m not able to put the sentence together right… but maybe something like I hope you find some relief from the struggle—even if it’s for one moment, one hour or one day. It happens; I’ve felt it before. It’s a wonderful feeling, like you’ve been pulled out from under the water and you’re able to take that first breath of air, before it’s too late.

      I think that is all I have for you. Thanks again for writing, I really appreciate it. I hope I didn’t disappoint you with my response.

      Cheers,

      PS. I did end up meeting with a therapist. Totally disappointing. Nice lady, but she didn’t get it. ☹

      • H Ney says :

        Well Duh! I looked back at mysideof thedsm a few times in the last month and a half,  but never thought to look here. This is one of my “alter-ego” email addresses. I rarely look here. Just another item for my Boy, am I a Doofus file.   Meanwhile, I sent a sickenly cheery comment to you tonite. I am amazed I could write such happy horseshit, but I did. And I wrote it all really quickly, as proofreading would have left me with a few dozen errs and ummms and not much more. It was my guilt for not having written for a while that drove me, my worry I might somehow be responsible if something happened to you. Please forgive my drivel. Unless you liked or needed or enjoyed that uplifting tirade…….in that case, thank you!   I read your email with enthusiasm..I was glad to hear you have had similar thoughts. It justifies me contacting you in the first place. I like to be right.   And so, I’m sorry to have delayed my response for so long. My excuse is that I’m negligent and mostly so self absorbed I cannot get out of my own way. And I’ve been all wrapped up in some family stuff here. I’m a caregiver again, and it is sucking the life out of me.   I will be crafting this over time tonite, trying not to look back at my bad english, jumbled thinking, run on sentences and self serving bs. I’ll still push to get this to you, I feel like I’m working with a time constraint, knowing I am late because of my own stupidity. Geez.   Yes, inadequacy is my middle name. When I analyze my past, I can only conclude that I’ve missed the mark in most every way. My writing, my relationships, my work, my friends, even my eating habits leave something to be desired. I like to feel superior to the people around me sometimes, and I find it fun to pick them apart and see…well, they have a great husband/wife/family, too bad they cannot get their shit together at finding a good job and keeping it. Poor bastards. Or maybe they are great at work, and have disastrous personal lives. Why can’t they get it together? It is so easy for me so see and explain all their problems. Poor bastards. But then I know I’m way off center when it comes to work or relationships. I can run, but I can’t hide. My life is lonely and unfulfilled. I’ve got neither a good job nor a good relationship. I’ve never had a good job or a good relationship. Those kind of things are for other people. Maybe I’m just too lazy to invest the time it takes.   I’m a perpetual outsider, looking in. It has been a challenge for me, feeling inadequate all the time, and knowing it will always be this way. Somehow, all the normal things normal people do have eluded me. I must consider that if the normal things were important to me, I would have pursued them with more vigor. It my own damned fault. But, somehow, I seem to have lacked the opportunities. A for instance…no matter the love and desire and whatever I’ve ever experienced in relationships, no one ever thought I’d be adequate enough to marry. It is not really important, of course, I know a good coupling can be had without marriage, but it would be nice to be asked. (I was married, but we only married because I put out an ultimatum, I am living proof this is not way to form a partnership) I’ve tried to figure….many stupider, uglier, less appealing people marry, stay married and are contented, if not happy….What the hell is wrong with me? And there are many other things I never got to do..I feel left out, having missed so many milestones my fellow creatures enjoy.   Writing this is torture. I am sure you will read the first sentence, and think, omg what a loser, why am I wasting time with this dolt? Knowing that, I continue on, assuming you will despise me by the time you abandon this email and run screaming into the night. What can I do? If I look back at what I’ve written now, I will be so filled with self loathing, I’m bound to just drink myself into a stupor.   I’m desperately hoping this will all come across the way I’m sending it, but accept my writing will miss the mark as often as it hits.   The voice that keeps us going….it’s uplifting at times, and absent at others, it feeds us and abandons us, it’s a two-faced friend. I seek it out, try to nurture it. I know it has saved me from countless moments of despair. But I do not really trust it. I  mostly chalk it up to some evolutionary trick. We are programmed to survive. We cannot help but look for reasons to live and enjoy and search for meaning, meaning, meaning. Anything to keep us here, procreating, to make millions more of us. Mother nature is a mad scientist and a crazy bitch. And, yes, I’m a cynic. I want to be happy as much as the next person, but I know it’s all a waiting game for me, a losing game of loneliness and suffering until I die a miserable death. Alone. A grim forecast. I cannot die and I cannot really live.   The useless sac club. Every day good useful happy people succumb to disease, murder, all the bad ways to go. And there’s nothing I can do or say or be or wish that can change things. I am here now, and have to accept that I am what I am, useless flesh sac, living today, while better people die. It sucks. I feel guilty not being productive, not living life to it’s fullest. So many people have it worse off than I do, and they are thriving! What kind of a moron am I, not being grateful to have 2 hands and feet, my eyesight, the ability to walk?………on top of all my other failings, I’m an ungrateful wretch.   Those around us. Yes, they are really innocent. They cannot be blamed for the sickness inside my head. No more than I could blame them for my aging body or for my poor computer performance. Most of my people are good to me and always have been. I’ve no complaints, they did the best they could. I am an oddball, bucking the trends, making my own meandering path through life. Everywhere I look, I think, my god, they’ve all suffered enough already. I must be supportive of them, after all, they are trying to live their lives as best they can, they are on track, they are alive in their hearts and minds. They could never ever understand what it has been like for me. I must keep everyone from knowing the twisted thoughts my brain produces. They would freak out.   Therapists…I’ve known a long time that no one can understand me. I never even entertained the thought of going for “help”. I think you rather brave for trying. I could never adequately articulate all that I think and feel. No amount of explaining my experiences could ever account for my predicament. For me, it would be a waste of time and money. I am fucked up, and I in no way expect any sort of outside help. To me, it would be illogical…if I could truely connect with someone enough to understand me, I would not have had all the problems I’ve had. If it were possible for me to get better, I’d be all for it. But, I’m afraid my fucked-up-ness is who I am.   Speaking of fucked up, this email is proof positive that I am a raving lunatic. Just slightly proofreading has made me break out in a sweat and caused that ice pick in the head pain again. Before I lapse into a stupor, I’d better send this off to you, letting the chips fall where they may….I thank you for your indulgence.   All the best to you! Hoping you are snuggled up to your guardian angel just now and that you can find them near you always, when you need them.            

        ________________________________

  2. mysideofthedsm says :

    Oh dear god. We are too similar. Your last comment. I lost count on how many times I gave a (silent) “Amen!”. Sounds like we have the same struggles and issues. I wish I had the energy to point them out to you and thank you for articulating them so well. It’s nice to know there is someone else out there that feels the same. I’m Gemini and it feels like I met my twin.

    I’m sorry I can’t reply any more… I’m tired and overwhelmed with my thoughts right now. Don’t worry, I’m good. I’m not going to do anything crazy; I think the best thing to do is numb myself with some TV or food.

    I’ll check in later…

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