Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes things are overwhelming. Sometimes you are feeling a hundred million ways at once. Sometimes people you care about are struggling through something difficult, and there’s no way you can really fix it. [And sometimes, if you remove the word “sometimes” from the beginning of my Astute General Observations, you realize they apply wholly and completely to my circumstances.]
When things get crazy, I become a bit of a different animal. No longer my normal, keenly aware, over-emotive self, I unplug. I numb out. It’s like I give my sensibilities a giant shot of Novocain.
I don’t like this feeling. And I don’t feel like myself when this happens. But I think it comes from the innate desire humanoids have-in the face of difficulty-to want to stop; to want to stop hurtling through space and time at light speed. to want to find the off-switch: for our happenings, our hearts, what have you.
So, it’s a Catch-22: it sometimes is possible to “turn off” feelings, to unplug, or maybe even to suddenly change circumstances. But then-here’s the kicker- you don’t feel any of it.
So, this past week or two, I may have been able to remove myself from some of the sad, some of the frustrating, some of the irritating. But that also means I have missed out on a lot of the happy. In honor of the Avett Brothers, and how attuned they are to human beings, I hereby dub this phenomenon the Tin Man Syndrome.
Of course, just because I know I’ve unplugged doesn’t mean I’ve got the rest of it figured out. But at least I can recognize that I do it. And I can let you guys know. Consider this time in my life a bit of a short circuit.
I love you all for your patience. I’ll be back online eventually. In the meantime. . . anyone have an oil can?