In which I get self-indulgently metaphorical

(or: this again)

There are people out there who have real honest-to-goodness immediate genuine Feelings of fear and anxiety, instead of freeze-dried individually wrapped text-message notification awarenesses of disaster occurring. What a thing. What things there are in this world.

Like, ok, you have your heart-pounding terror, good for you, and I have my heart-sorta-pounding-but-in-a-fake-low-blood-pressure-way and my slow slow frozen thoughts and my calmly and gently attempting damage control measures while the world collapses.

They sorta kinda implied that heart-pounding terroriness is the definition of Real trauma, but I know that’s not what they meant, and it’s not even really what they said. I’m not complaining about that.

I’m just having that feeling that’s like: why am I so un-relatable?

I feel like the only people I’ve heard describe doing the thing that I do– they don’t analyze it in terms of anxiety or anything like that. They don’t use those words for themselves. They think they’re actually being normal-calm. So I can’t exactly discuss it with them.

Rambling about bad things

Here is your opportunity to compare the measured, explicative version of something with the sad unedited rambling version, below. Though, actually, on third reading, the first version really doesn’t understate it that much and I’m not sure if this really adds anything.

Continue reading “Rambling about bad things”