When is it time?

I don’t think there is ever a right time, or wrong time to let people you love KNOW that you love them. And since I am horrible at saying it, I try my best to show it, in small ways, big ways, every day.

 

Problem is, this year has been a crap fest for so many, famous and non-famous. The large icons on-screen and the small folk who live down the street. Hell, I know of 3 people who lost family – parents, children – and that’s just from where I work (2 co-workers, and one regular customer).

Not sure why 2016 seems so much worse than any other year? Maybe it’s because of the collective age of those in mourning? (for example, I am in my forties, most people I know are as well, and my child knows and feels the loss of these big names because we raised him with these people) Just a thought.

I really have no idea where I am going with this post. Maybe it will sit in my drafts folder with the other 3 posts I have started about my health, depression, and life in general. Maybe I’ll post it. Whatever I do, I just need to express my thoughts right now. Ponder how to tell people I care about that I do in fact care.

I need to work through WHY I care about famous people, and why I feel the need to cry my soul into puddle at my feet whenever one I care about dies. And if I tweet, write, Facebook, or some other method one that is still alive, just to let them know I care, will it fall on deaf ears? Will they care? Will they even see it? Plus, is it for them, or for me that I (or anyone else) would do such a thing? Does it matter?

And what about those I don’t know well, or have never met but care about deeply? Same questions.

And to add to all the confusion, can you love someone who doesn’t know you exist, or who you “know” but have never met? And what if you do love them, what does it do to you as a person if they do not know you are even alive, or do but don’t love you back?

And WHY are all these questions bouncing around in my head?

Honestly? Some days I really wish my world was small again. Small like before the internet where you knew some world news, some celebrity stuff, but usually months after it happened. I love the fact I know people from around the world, and the fact I can know what is going on in the world, but holy shit does it sure make life so much more complicated and difficult. On the whole, being so connected you are made to feel guilty if you don’t help or do something or feel something when something terrible happens a million miles away. You are expected to care about the entire world and what is going on. ALL of that, on top of our own problems in our own small worlds? It seems like it is just too much.

Honestly, I am not surprised mental health issues seem to be on the rise (though really, is it rising, or are we just more aware?). HOW can we, as a human being, be expected to hold so much responsibility on our shoulders? Not just our own lives, but the lives of those closest to us AND the world?

For fuck sake, my own problems are barely held together with duct tape, spit, and sheer will power (which is fading BTW), how the hell am I suppose to care about the world?

But guess what? I do. How can I not? it’s there, daily. All sorts of bad, nasty things. Death shown to me daily. Children hurting (as a parent, sometimes that hurts more than all the others). For awhile I was desensitized to it, but that can carry on so long before everything becomes open, and raw.

EVERYTHING hurts now. I blink and I want to cry. I see a child unhappy with the choice of toy and I want to cry, I see death, pain, fires, flooding … I see it all and I wish I could shut down my mind and hide away.

I long for the days of being a child with no internet, limited access to a TV. It’s a wonder my own child has not fallen into the rabbit hole and drowned. Or maybe he has and I am floundering so badly myself I haven’t noticed. Too much out there I am supposed to see and care about, why would I see what is under my nose?

I want someone to hold me, tell me it will all be better and one day the world will take care of itself so that maybe, just maybe I can take care of me (without the guilt and fear of ridicule). I need to fight to keep myself. I am losing me, maybe I lost me years ago? Maybe I never had me?

What is the right way to mourn for those you never knew, but feel like there were family, a hero, a friend, or just someone who (as a character) understood?

No. I will hold back the tears. I will hide them. I will let them escape slowly at a stupid commercial, or stubbed toe. My tears are not for anyone. Maybe for me.

 

 

And by the way? I love you.

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