As much as I blabber on this blog with my random musings and drunk stories that don’t mean anything, I tend to have a difficult time blabbing about my feelings in real life. (Caitlin rule: social media is not real life). Even writing “talking about my feelings,” just made me cringe because to me, it sounds narcissistic and privileged. Maybe I just read the news too much and compare myself too heavily to the people on BBC reports who have real problems. If I have food, clothing and shelter, then I feel I should keep my damn mouth shut and not complain about anything. I’m alive, I am not persecuted for my religion (or lack there of), I have friends and family, I have running water, my health and a car that has friggen built in seat warmers. A lot of the world is in fear of their lives due to their religious beliefs, contracting TB is as common as getting the sniffles, they need to chop wood to create heat and they walk to the nearest well to retrieve water using pots and pans. So no, I’ll spare the world of my American girl sob story because I don’t want to add to the delusions of what it’s like NOT to have real problems.
The older I get, the more I learn, the more I travel, the more people I meet, the more disgusted I become with the First World. I think that one characteristic of First World society is indulgence. We are a bunch of fat fucks who think that it is acceptable to stuff ourselves just because it’s taco Tuesday, gamble our money away just for the adrenaline, drink like Armaggedon is upon us just because it’s happy hour and buy big diamonds just because it shows status. I am the first to admit, I am a culprit of certain indulgences as I’m sure most of you are very aware. These extravagances are a way for us to stay stimulated. This constant need for stimulus (which I am 100% guilty of) is a product of our First World problem; that we take our survival for granted and have too much damn time on our hands for self-analyzing and worrying about trivial matters such as not being able to connect to wifi at our nearby coffee shop. Even in the second world, eating is still a thing that requires some work. Not only do they work for their food, figuratively speaking because they work to be able to purchase food (the way that most of us do), but a lot of them also sweat for their food. They garden and raise goats and slaughter their chickens themselves and have to worry about droughts and too much rain because maybe with a lot of rain some of their crops will drown, but they can’t drive to the market during bad weather because the roads get flooded and close. These motherfuckers do not have time to worry about what it means to have “daddy issues” because they have real shit to deal with, which gives them a sense of purpose and fulfillment.
I was in the cereal aisle the other day, and became so grossed out with myself. I was a little bit chilly even though it was 90 degrees (32 degrees Celsius) outside, but the giant supermarket I am in is fully air conditioned and there I was under the giant florescent lights, looking at the entire row of at least 300 choices of cereal. I was getting panicky because I was trying to figure out the cereal with the lowest calorie to sugar ratio, but knew that I had to hurry because I still needed to call my car insurance company before 5:00 and was also worried about a boy I like and what I should text him back. Jesus Christ. I wanted to punch myself in the stomach. If I had to make my damn cereal myself, I wouldn’t be getting panicky about my First World problems because I would be too busy studying weather patterns to make sure that I plant the grain at the proper time of season.
I love working with my hands, and having a job that makes me sweat. I have noticed that the people I know who do some type of manual labor for a living, seem to have the most sense of satisfaction. With all this technology, the manual labor jobs are dwindling, and our feelings of contentment are going right down the drain with them. With this void, we feel the need to fill that with self-indulgences. Indulging is or desperate attempt to make ourselves happier when our lives don’t really fulfill us. There is a bill for indulgences, and it feels like our society is becoming late in payment.
I’m hoping that you all understand that I’m not talking about ordering dessert when I say over indulging. I’m discussing an overall lifestyle. In our lifestyle, we seem to take more than we need and most of us think nothing of it; don’t even realize it as we wash the dishes under constant running water.
If everyone only took what resources they really NEEDED, think about what a better world we’d be in. Really, please think about it for at least sixty seconds.
We are a bunch of selfish twats who would rather live blindly and gluttonous than unite and help a brother out. I know that this sounds harsh, but I think that something really went wrong with our species. No other species on Earth sabotages each other. We think that we are on top, but we are at the bottom. We think that the world needs to adjust to us, but we need to wake the fuck up and adjust to the world. My wise Dad made a good point a while back, and I’ve found myself thinking about it more recently. He said that humans are absolutely at the bottom of the food chain. We consider ourselves at the top… why? Because we have opposable thumbs and can kill everything else? If humans ceased to exist, the Earth wold THRIVE. However, if something like plankton, or bees, which are considered at the bottom of the food chain, ceased to exist, the entire goddamn world would cease to exist.
If you have gotten this far, then I thank you for listening to my rant. My initial point is, that with all of that floating around in my mind, it has made balancing awareness and my everyday life tricky. I come from a First World country, so obviously I have adapted to such, but being aware of my status has presented its problems concerning my mental well being. I don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling, but when I don’t, it makes it worse because I’m suppressing. However, when I do talk, it also makes it worse because I feel like a dick for even complaining. A vicious cycle. Life would be so much easier if I was an ignorant redneck.
Due to my unwillingness to open my mouth (a guy I saw for a short amount of time in college called me, Lipless because I never said what I was thinking), I have damaged quite a few of my relationships. I say “relationships” because that’s the easiest go-to description, but they weren’t relationships and that’s mostly because I’m an asshole. Also though, because I don’t often “share” because I feel ridiculous for even letting my demons get to me.
I was “feelin’ it” recently (as Michael would say), which basically means that you’re drowning in your demons, and I honestly considered just completely ending communication with this certain boy that I like. No word, nothing. I guess I was feeling overwhelmed and that seemed like the only component that I could eradicate. That’s something that I probably would have done in the past because running is always easier than confronting, but I’ve changed and instead, checked myself, and did manage to talk to him about some of my gross feelings that I was so annoyed that I even had. But I’m glad I did, he made me feel better.
We need to find a median. Somehow, I need to figure out a way to deal with my emotions but also continue to keep things in perspective. I recognize what I need to work on, but we all need to recognize that as a society, we need to change and that we have sold our soul in exchange for late night Taco Bell raids.