When a conversation goes something like, “At that time you were around and you were comfortable. Other people had moved on so it suited me to be friends and to talk things through with you. Later on you hadn’t actually done anything wrong or changed. It’s just that I didn’t need you anymore so I ignored your messages because as far as I needed the conversation was over.”, it is hard not to feel a very large dent in your self esteem.
It doesn’t matter how positively you try to look at it. How hard you try to apply CBT, mindfulness or any other technique. The bare facts just stare you resolutely in the face. There is no positive to it. I think what really stings is that the words are delivered in such a matter of fact way. The person concerned is never going to see it’s not a nice way to treat someone. Nor are they likely to see that it’s probably normal to feel a bit peeved about it.
You feel a bit like yesterday’s dirty knickers, dropped on the floor and then kicked under the furniture out of sight of an unexpected visitor. The more I think about that the better analogy it feels. I was very much kicked out of sight. I think it ties in to something I said in a previous post. About not caring enough to even say you don’t care. It’s not a great feeling! But then that doesn’t really matter either. It’s only MY feelings. They don’t count, never have!
You have probably, dear reader, deduced that my mood is still currently inclined towards pissed off! Fear not. I’m off to have my head examined tomorrow. Although this time physically not psychologically. I’m sure even needing my head examined gives me a bit of license. Today I’m mainly indulging a tendency to be petulant and uninhibited. Tomorrow who knows? Possibly a move onto dreams of world domination. Bound to be bonkers and unreasonable enough! It does seem, however, that I can do pissed of with irony. Possibly an improvement?
Funny the things you remember when you’re emotional. On this date, almost to the minute as I write, many years ago I was flying into Battersea in a helicopter from a commando squadron. With a bottle of champagne in my bag as it happens. I should have tried to keep that aircraft. It had guns and stuff. That would have helped with the dreams of world domination. The time I’m talking about was actually a very happy time. The following months were very happy indeed. Yet, this was just a few months before I nose dived into my first depression. I do not, I can not, accept that going from such happiness to such depression is an entirely spontaneous and internal event. Oh well! First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin!