Monday, March 17, 2014

I've decided. I must be a fictional character.

It's the only reasonable explanation I can come up with. Somewhere there is a SUPER talented writer telling this story about the person who grows up to be the world's biggest villain or the person who cures all sickness and disease. There is no way I am an actual person.

My back story is great fodder for either of those options, and both are totally plausible outcomes based on the storyline so far.

My roommate asked me about a specific family member last night after I visited with another one all morning, and the words that nonchalantly came out of my mouth shocked me. When giving friends updates on the people I shared a roof with for my childhood I have to water down their most mundane events to not sound like I'm making things up to be cruel, and even then people assume I'm exaggerating. For example: Someone I am blood related to was at one point addicted to meth and hooking for her drugs. Even that one sentence sounds like a cheesy start to a Hallmark channel movie, not something that happens to everyday people. My little "adventures" always have something weird and quirky happening to make the story more interesting, my boring days still have an element of ridicule in them, even when all I want is peace and quiet.

The worst part of starring in this ridiculous life of mine? Since crazy, dramatic, stressful things happen to me/around me ALL THE TIME I'm supposed to be immune to it. I'm not allowed to feel the feelings associated with the trauma of someone I love being hit by a car by someone else I love. My job is to go clean it up and let everyone else deal with their emotions. I'm not allowed to have an opinion on situations where people I care about are pitted against each other and there is no clear cut right and wrong, instead I am Switzerland the neutral party to spew at.

I don't mind it. Most of the time. I want to be helpful and useful and to be that shoulder for whoever needs it, but because of the enormity of the messes I deal with, I can't let it all out to one person. That would be incredibly irresponsible of me. I'm not saying I bottle it (all) up, I do let it out in pieces to a few close confidants, but there is a good chunk I have to deal with myself and it's kinda burdensome. Especially since I am not a robot and have some pretty intense feelings sometimes.. (If anyone knows of the off switch for strong emotions I am interested in the location of said switch)

I was talking to a few people the last couple of weeks, and they all basically said the same thing to me. "But you're so strong, you can handle this all on your own, why do you think you need anyone's help?" Well, duh I can handle it all on my own, that's not the point. I can and will handle any and everything that comes my way because that's what we do as people. We handle whatever is given to us. But does it really make me less strong of a person for ::wanting:: help sometimes? That just seems so.... silly. There's a saying about how strands of rope twined together are stronger than just an individual piece so I have to imagine the same goes for people.

So, dear author of my fictional life, how about you throwing in some levity in my life. Like a carnival with a ferris wheel landing across the street from my house, or letting me stumble across some great treasure. Enough of the back story nonsense, my character is pretty well defined at this point. Let's get to the good stuff huh?

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