Little Voices in My Head

I DID write a rather lengthy blog last week, and fully intended to post it. However, after I had edited it for the fourth time and it was STILL too mean, nasty, and dry, to post publicly *in my opinion*, I decided silence was golden. Tonight, that opinion has changed.

I’m not posting that original blog, but rather, the reason for the change of opinion. I decided to just roll with my mood today after reading through some message archives I had stored on my lappy between my bestest gal-pal Shannon and I. In it, the comment of “You know how I roll. Fuck with me? Shame on you. Fuck with my friends? Knife in your liver.” was made by me to her, and I realized that: 1. Yes. Yes, I am capable of extreme emotion when the situation warrants it, and 2. I haven’t felt anything akin to an extreme emotion in awhile when it pertains to me and my life, only that of those peripherally involved therein.

Ponderous.

I still feel emotions. I haven’t become a drone. I still love, laugh, smile, frown, etc. But when confronted with an extreme situation lately, I have reacted with an almost computational logic that defies my norm. Even the Little Voices have toned themselves down to a rather dull and almost aching roar rather than their usual constant siren wails. Until something upsets the applecart of my family or friends or a patient of mine, or even a stranger whom I see as being wronged in some manner. THEN I am capable of emotional swings that would make a manic-depressive man’s head spin. Heaven forbid someone make the mistake of upsetting my Pammie. Can you say “momma grizzly bear”? Yet, I cannot seem to muster up the emotional energy to feel anything resembling “Umph” for myself.

Perhaps the reason for this blank slate is that I’m just too busy caring about and for others to give two wits. There is nothing I’d like more than to just curl into a little ball and wail for my own problems, yet the tears just won’t come. The nightmares do, and my poor sweetie probably deserves a medal for putting up with more than his fair share of those, but even in the dark the thing that scares me the most is that I just don’t care enough to take care. Someone I love hurt me deeply, and I don’t care enough to do anything about it. Someone I trusted betrayed me, and I don’t have the energy to confront the lie. Someone I respected dishonoured me, and I can’t summon the ‘umph’ to react. I just don’t have it in me.

Carissa the Numb.