Challenging Perspective, Optimism, and the Human Mind

I was having a glorious night to myself, I thought.  I put on some music that made me feel pumped up.  I’m surrounded by all these wonderful things and animals, and I can dance this party all night.  I need no partner and I will tell you repeatedly there is always wonder to be found.  There is also a treacherous pitfall around those wonders.  Because in a split second, I tumbled when my perspective flipped on me.  It’s so strange to see this take place, as you sit and in mere moments the shade and tint to your body scales down and inverts on itself.  I think I just felt the slightest element push me from feeling elated in my solitude to depressed in my loneliness.  It was the fastest shift, like a chameleon blending to it’s surroundings.  I was fed a new perspective without realizing; I told myself in someone else’s words that I was ignorant to parade around my home in happiness for my freedom.  I felt sudden loss as to why I could possibly accept anything less than the company of friends and other humans on a Friday night.  Why am I like this?  What is wrong with you, Heather?

This is an absurd transition, no doubt, but one that compels me to write because I analyze it in real time.  Despite knowing why I’m feeling or thinking these things, it doesn’t stop me from doing it.  What does this knowledge do but trample on my self-esteem and well-being?  So strange.  I find it so strange that one can be a dual optimist and pessimist.  I change as the moment suits, but this did not suit me.  Perhaps it suited my survival.  Perhaps I’m built to care what others think or that others are not with me.  I can scarcely think of any other explanation at this hour.  However, I quickly shut off the music and set myself to brood.  Maybe it’s hormones, but something trashed my mood.

What is perhaps worse about the human mind here, or more specifically my mind, is that I know it is all preventable grief.  I know it is my actions that put me here, unhappily.  My cat begins to chatter.  He wants me to get over it and give him attention, no doubt.  And why don’t I?  Why don’t I stop being ridiculous and anti-social.  There is not a person on the planet who wouldn’t care to be in my company if I understood the wants and needs of someone not plagued in thought.  I can be a real downer if I allow it, and I can see from all perspectives at once; his, hers, and mine.  Perhaps I will turn on  the music again and enjoy the company that is me.  If I could muster it once with glee, it can happen again.  It simply must be.

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