They say that your dreams are a manifestation of your subconscious. Yesterday I dreamt I was tied down and peed on. In two days I finish my prison of a ‘full-time job’ and am released from the bindings that have held me back from
being the cheerleader I was born to be being a happier, stress-free person. I tell people as a joke that I’m concerned I’m going to be like that marathon runner that they show in any and every montage about struggle in sport who is like 100m from the finish line but then collapses – but really I am concerned I’m going to be that guy.
I am still a ball of relatively flammable anxiety over the nightmare parade that has been the last 3 weeks of my life although the hard-ships have been of a clear first world nature. They began with a psychotic boss going macho Miranda Priestly on me only no one was wearing Prada and there was no Simon Baker OR Adrien Brody (not that I really find either of these men empirically attractive, peen is peen, amirite ladies?). Followed by what was meant to be an awesome week with Alice of sickness that lead me to be convinced that I had contracted an immunodeficiency of some kind. This was then followed by a not one, but two incidences with my car, one of which was glamorously performed in front of sexy policemen (did I do it on purpose? THAT’S A SECRET I’LL NEVER TELL XOXO GOSSIP GIRL)
The crash would later go on to the ‘Lamest Crashes Ever’ Hall of Fame. I rear-ended another car at somewhere between 0.5-5km per hour and chipped off a bit of paint. Unfortunately the damage was enough that I had to call insurance – who then informed me, because they had convinced my mother there was no financial difference in delisting me as a driver of the vehicle my excess would be over 2k doll-hairs. I thanked the lady on the phone and then melted into a puddle onto the floor.
It had been a long time since I had felt so ridiculously helpless, simply because this was the last and most significant event in a series of mediocrely inconvenient events. I could hear the people around me vaguely caring about my situation. From an objective point of view I really was kind of being ridiculous about it all, but my frustration stemmed from a few places. Embarrassingly I sat in my car 20 minutes early to my dentist appointment to get a mould taken for a night-time mouthguard (Tickets 4 Sex @ front – form 1 line) fuming and incredibly mad at everything and nothing at the same time.
My family in general believe in the principle of balance. Related to karma, I suppose it’s the belief that things generally happen for a reason and that without bad things, good things couldn’t happen etc. (like when you lose a guy’s phone number and at first you’re like oh no! and then he’s on the news next week because he like murders blind pigeons or whatever) Anyway the worst time you can ever say that to someone is right after they’ve received bad news. It’s a great hindsight tool, but rarely what you want to hear straight off the bat – at least for me anyway. (I know I’m sounding like a brat, I promise there’s a point to this, I’m getting there. Stick with me here)
I rationalized to myself that I was mad because it meant that I was going to Europe with less than I wanted to, but in all honestly, as Alice pointed out, I was still going with quite a lot. I compared myself to a friend who the week before was having a guilt crisis over the fact she was enjoying travelling and partying instead of returning to help poverty and war stricken parts of the world and suddenly I sucked a little bit more. I realised though, it wasn’t so much about the money, but the fact that the money represented 3 hell-weeks at work. 3 hell weeks that caused hair loss, stress-acne and weird digestion situations that I had literally nothing to show for except hair loss, stress-acne and weird digestion situations.
I was in a frustrating place where the money represented a tangible reward for the psychological scarring that this first job was providing me and in that sense it was okay for me to be upset. People are sometimes chastised for feeling sorry for themselves because our lives are generally much better comparatively to other parts of the world. Sometimes your reality is the only thing you can focus on, and as long as you don’t allow yourself to stay there too long, it’s alright to be overwhelmed by it once in awhile.
I came around eventually, and genuinely was thankful for the fact that I was in a position where I didn’t have to sell a kidney to be able to pay that money (hopefully that doesn’t make me even more of an asshole), thankful that I had a car to crash and thankful for the fact that I have a job to hate as I know so many people I went to Uni with are still struggling to find steady work. As well I know these statements could potentially make me sound like an even bigger asshole (oh you don’t have a job? I do! AND I DISLIKE IT IMMENSELY)
It’s important to be able to allow yourself to be human in frustrating circumstances, but it’s more important to be able to identify the positive things in your life to help you regain some perspective. And if you still feel bad that you aren’t rich/successful/famous enough, just remember that it doesn’t always work out so great
I feel dat AB, I feel dat.