Square Pegs and Round Holes

As much as I resent the negative effects my Stuff has on my life, it’s even worse to see it cause negative effects in my best friend’s life. Today was a 4th of July celebration in his family, as some of his relatives and their friends were in from a few states away. His family is bloody huge, but for the most part I knew all of the people who were in, at least in our immediate little group. I typically spend part of the winter holidays with these people, and we always have alot of fun. For some reason, though, today I felt like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, as the saying goes.

In the years since my parents died I’ve become accustomed to the ‘orphan’ status. As I was already an adult when my parents died, I’ve never really considered myself orphaned– in my mind that brings up images of ratty children in gutters, not semi-stable adults– but sometimes that thought does lodge in my mind. I guess it’s one of those sudden ‘there’s no one but me’ feelings. Those close to me can attest to the fact that I’ve faced some fairly significant losses in recent years, and as my feelings become more accessible, more facets of those losses creep up on me.

I couldn’t stay for the entire dinner today. Something about being surrounded by people whose memories stretch back as far as they can see made me feel incredibly sad, which quickly led into anxiety, which further escalated into that feeling of being trapped. My best friend, being a very dear man, thought nothing of driving me several miles back to his apartment where I could collect my car and go get my thoughts together.

There is rather alot of Stuff leading into this current mess, and I certainly need to try and see it in its entirety. It all seems a bit on the self-pitying side, but I have to be careful with that classification as I tend to place it on any of my emotional reactions. Maybe it’s just, as my best friend suggested, another part of the grieving process. Maybe I’m just angered by my whole situation and need to heist myself from my bum and change things. It could even be this nasty little depression I can’t seem to shake for longer than a day. I’m truly not sure at the moment, but it’s likely to be a combination of the above.

Right then. I foresee a visit to the shrink and/or therapist in my near future.


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