…and then December came
This article is best enjoyed when listening to the song “Howling” by Noah Kahan - https://youtu.be/oAq9C7MGwAI
The month of November came and I got what I had hoped for. It was here, finally. Elated was what I was supposed to feel and yet indifferent was what I got. A trapping kind of indifference, I might add. The sort of feeling where you can be happy and still feel as though it may be safer —or better— to feel sad. The feeling didn’t necessarily feel like it was within my control to navigate. It felt as though it was being spurred by some puppeteering entity beyond the veil of my subconscious, tittering as it fiddled with the controls inside my psyche, trying to find the “off” switch.
It was maddening and yet, it felt normal. It felt like this was what I should expect every time something works out for me —the leeching sensation of gladness mixed with blandness. It was as though it felt better to be in that spot where you don’t stay too committed to one side of the divide to avoid feeling the loss if ever the other side were to come out on top. I found it a bit comforting too. In a way, not jumping for joy when I received something I have always wanted came felt like I had gained a sense of maturity. Somehow, I felt that way because deep down I was privy to the fact that it could all be taken away without a moment’s notice.
I would call this mentality “the safety of the fleeting.” You can’t feel sad about losing what you always knew you could —or would— eventually lose. But the only problem with this mentality is, while it sort of insulates you from the losses, it inadvertently also shields you from being able to enjoy the wins too —small as they often come for someone like me. It makes it tougher to see the sun and think “what a beautiful day it is today” because you become too focused thinking, “Fuck! This heat is killing me.” It’s the difference between not being able to stay in the mundane yet captivating moment of the present because you’re too busy seeking solace in the comforts of the seemingly fascinating but uncertain future.
November came and I found myself wishing it hadn’t. I found myself almost feeling like I didn’t deserve this little sliver of hope that was shone on me. I felt like the moment I acknowledged that it was there, there was the all-too-real possibility that it could be taken away from me —again. So, I did what every rational person like me would: I chose indifference. I opted to stick with a smirk as opposed to having a joyous laugh. I settled for taking stock of the present instead of experiencing it. I chose the valor of caution, instead of the courage of mistakes.
And contrary to what some might think, none of these was motivated by fear. To me, fear is what you feel when your dreams are too big to come true but they do anyway. No, this was different. This was dread. An existential dread of proportions so big, it felt so little in the abyss of everything else. A dread that made me treat each new day as a chore to be completed. It made me worry about everything and ultimately solve barely anything with my concern. It made me seek acceptance without even reaching out to find it. It made me mad with envy at others for their courage and my obvious lack of it. It made me wish I could do something to end it all.
Dreadful indifference is how November came to me. I finally got what I thought would mean the whole world to me and I couldn’t enjoy it. All I could think about was how I had tried to enjoy something similar in the past, only to end up here. So, it was easier and safer to find that sour spot between relief and anticipatory anguish. It was easier to live each day, not like my last, but like my first —uncertain, unsure and dreadfully terrified that it was indeed going to be my last. And then December came, and nothing has changed...
…except for the realization that in a few days, I could blame it all on the year 2022. I could chalk it all up to a year so bad, it sucked. I could go into 2023 with the self-belief that when January comes, it won’t find me in dreadful indifference but hopeful awareness. An awareness of everything good around me even whilst nursing the hurt of everything bad. I hope I can pull it off too because, last year I had a similar experience...
...ah fuck it! Let it come. We’re ready!!