I've started to write a couple of different posts today about real, substantial subjects, but I'm just not thinking straight and can't really articulate anything well. Mostly, I'm overwhelmed by all the hurt in the world. Twelve people are dead because some maniac shot up a movie theater. Bombs are going off in the streets. My baby cousin just started chemo.
How can I sit here and complain about how I'm not hungry enough for dinner, or about how I have another eye infection, or about how R has decided I'm gaining too slowly and need to add another snack even though my thighs feel like they're exploding out of my shorts? Why am I so fucking selfish?
This is hard for me to admit, but sometimes it just feels like I can't take on the world's hurt along with my own. My friend starting reading me an article about the shooting in Colorado and I made her stop because I couldn't take it; it made me too upset. I want to get all fired up and rant and rail about gun violence, or war, or the sad state of public education, but I just can't. I'm too fragile and broken. My stomach hurts and my eyes are burning and I can't decide if it's okay for me to wait until tomorrow to add the extra calories, because today my head is too full and my body is too uncomfortable.
I feel stupid being proud of this, but my friends and I went out to dinner last night and I ate every last bite on my plate, plus my snack later. Is okay to brag about that when I'm almost twenty-two and in college and should be proud of publishing papers or finishing my thesis or graduating instead? Maybe Baby D would brag about surviving his first week of cancer but, you know, he's fifteen months old and can't talk. Or blog.
So I can't think about how much worse off so many people are compared to me. It's depressing and demoralizing and makes me feel worse about myself. Am I quite possibly the most self-centered, self-pitying person on Earth? Probably, yes, and I hate that, but maybe I just need to protect myself for now, and trust that this is temporary.