I cannot take things seriously. Or so I think.
Serious, life changing events. Like having kids. Dramatic events, like war. Personal tragedies, like dad or uncle’s dying. Some significant achievements, like professional recognitions. (Even the one at Google, back in 2014 and ’15.) Losing the lover or two. My mother almost dying. My home country (both of them) crumbling into a catastrophe. My kid’s getting the disability status. My wife’s professional recognitions.
Meaning both negative and positive events. They don’t trigger many emotions, if any. No, they certainly do, just not as much I expect things of this size should.
That’s strange.
For some of them, or maybe all of them, it feels like I’m not allowing myself to feel any emotions. I think I’ve been much more emotional in the past, even my early twenties. My late thirties, not so much. Late twenties even. It’s been a decade, I think.
Something happens, or not happens, and instead taking it seriously, I take it not as much.
As if all that is just a game. I can recall them parents or their figures telling me that when being a kid. Does that mean I did not grow up? It doesn’t feel that way either. I’m grown up alright. Especially given my background, age, and other factors in my life.
I understand quite a lot of what’s happening in the world, especially its global politics. It’s a fucking shite, and fascism is clearly on the rise. And even this fact alone makes me unable to comprehend and tolerate the idiots that can live their best lives ignoring this.
Yeah, especially when they’re in the U.S. But also Germany, and France too. Not to say Bulgaria or Serbia, or Hungary. Or Poland. Obviously, Belarus and Russia leading the pack, with the latter actively helping the fascism to rise, leading it with incredible speed and dedication.
Am I having some kind of a self-protection mechanism? Apparently so.
I don’t know how to change that. Perhaps, I’m taking some things too seriously, and the whole world burning looks so fucking stupid, that hysterically laughing (here I’m picturing Joaquin Phoenix‘es Joker) is the only way to go? Or at least one of the ways to go.
Some things aren’t worthy of taking them too seriously. That’s obvious. But hey! Some things are! And it feels like I’m taking everything unseriously. It’s so absurd, this whole life thing. Somehow I’ve accepted the fact I may die peacefully sleeping in my bed, any day now. Any night now. Any moment.
I remember the fucking Oreshik flying on the (not that far off) centre of Lviv, and me buying farmer’s milk at the moment. Thanks God — and the anti-air military forces of Ukraine, you guys fucking magicians — it was downed. But I didn’t feel much.
It feels like I’ve stopped feeling long ago. I listen to some people emotional purchases, like getting a new iPhone, fancy gadgets, overly expensive car, and I can only fake enthusiasm. Or tell them my mind, depending on how close we are. I cannot properly share those emotions. The wonder lasts minutes. Rarely hours, and very rarely days. The purchases example may be inadequate, as I’m not too smart to be ‘only the pro-meaningful things in life.’ Some people got new kids, migrated to new countries. Most situations I’m just ‘whatever.’
Something was broken, and it’s hard to spot the exact timing.
Was it actually always like that? I consider this a real possibility.
Sometimes it feels like some stoicism, but other times I think I’d appreciate having to feel something too. I wonder whether one can acquire that skill, while being mindful, somewhat cynical (or would it wash away?), rational, well-educated, and also wise.
Yep, that’s all me!
And continue being modest, obviously.
Perhaps they could be the different issues: being serious and being emotionless. I have just painted the problem here, I’d do some proper thinking some other time.
For now, have a good night, me.