Monday, January 17, 2011

Sadness has a Path

I don't feel sad very often, but sometimes I do. I won't bother writing about the reason. Let's just say I had a very nice vision of happiness and sweetness transforming my life; but that vision is clouded by difficulty. A Kudzu problem: as soon as I get one obstacle cleared, another pops up. I know what to do when this happens: time to slog down Sadness' path. Thanks, Sadness, for cutting this clearly defined trail for me to hike along. Pardon me if I'm not jumping for joy. CAN'T! I'm sad. Duh. I hate this fucking hike. It's long and boring. Imagine 30 miles in a damp Alaskan wilderness with nothing to look at but Devil's Club. All day. [Cue Song of the Volga Boatmen]

When I'm sad, I try to get my nose to the grindstone and press down (and you thought the cartilage was showing a bit on Michael Jackson...). I make myself a long list of things I need to do, and then I start ticking my way though it, praying that chores will anesthetize me. It doesn't always work, but it's my best resource. Anybody got a better one? If I'm lucky, I will find both achievement and oblivion.

I will try to put off the inevitable with other, fluffier coping strategies, though. Watch me try:

1. Wallowing. Uh...not helpful to futz around going, "I'm sad. Wooooooooe is me." OK, enough of that, after about five minutes.

2. Hoping for reprieve. Maybe all the things that have made me sad will be mistakes of some sort! I'll get a memo saying it was all in error, and that this sadness was really meant for someone else. La-la-la! Too fanciful even for a fanci-fuck like me!

3. Self-talk. Mine goes like this: "Well, who cares! Big deal! Is this important in the grand scheme of the world? Will this matter in 20 years? Does it increase the cases of malaria in Sub-Saharan Africa?" Know what? You can tell yourself shit like that until you're blue in the face, and it doesn't help. Your sadness is your own, and isn't diminished by comparisons.

4. Writing. Wouldn't it be great if this were really a panacea? For some people it is: look how it helped Hemingway! Hmm... Bad example. It helps me, but only a little.

5. DAYDREAMING. Oh, this one is a doozy. My drug of choice since early childhood. I can still remember every detail of the hay field, the birch tree and the open sky outside the classroom windows of Mackford Prairie Elementary. Why get down to productive stuff when I can stare at the sky for hours on end? I'm a solver; so I will comb through my problems over and over, looking for a PLAN! The knowledge that what I want may not be attainable doesn't keep me from combing though it one more time. And JUST one. More. Time. Variations on the theme: make tea and stare at the sky with a teacup; decide to make a productive to-do list. Stare at the sky with a pen in my hand. Yeah, THAT makes it OK...

6. Sleep. Awesome. The ultimate pain-killer. Bummer that you wake up to find Sadness waiting here. Tapping its toe. With the bonus of having your contacts glued to your eyes, possibility of later insomnia and just overall stiffness.

Yeah, yeah. I need to get moving and get my hike started. I will feel happy again one of these days. Maybe there will be a solution to my problems - if so, I'll be overjoyed! Please Sadness; is there a chance I will get to thumb my nose at you and tell you to get lost? More likely, one day will thread to another and eventually I'll realize that Sadness has been outpaced. I am a pretty fast walker.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

"Sadness" is the thing that challenges us to re-think priorities & re-orient perspectives.

That's my take on it, anyway.


-John K.

Anonymous said...

I guess getting in touch with your friend isn't a likely solution... :-(
Miss you...
Diane C.

cinnibonbon said...

So sorry for your hurt. I can offer no real solace--but I can listen. Hang in there girl.