My hiatus got cut short. Within an hour of their return I was upset and going stark raving mad trying to stop myself from murdering one of them.
I even had a 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' moment after the disastrous reunion, albeit in a much less romantic fashion: I got off the bus and walked through the streets without realising it was raining. Heavily. So I got extremely wet. At least it cheered me up, anyway.
If I can take anything away from this horrible situation I've been living in of late, it's that I've learnt a lot about myself. I think I can look at things less subjectively now, for want of trying to see what I've done and how it might aggravate the atmosphere in my "home". So at least I can walk away from the situation knowing even though my head's been messed up in more ways than one this year, I'm a more encompassing person for it. I was never highly intolerant before, but on occasions I would make false judgements based on one or two encounters. Now I like to think that I live by that age old saying "time will tell". Because, after all, the passage of time allows us to accept and explore new people and things, and that time does tell us exactly how we feel about something or someone having changed our minds several times throughout the course of any given period.
Time teaches us who we are, and where we figure in the grand scheme of things. Which is probably a good thing. It's nice to think that I'm the centre of the universe from time to time - even if it is a little selfish of me.
Friday 18 April 2008
Monday 14 April 2008
Hiatus
After an extremely stressful few weeks, a two-week break is gratefully welcomed. I have a little break away in a different place, I come back, and do nothing. Doing nothing spills over from one day to the next, until suddenly I realise that I haven't left the flat properly in almost a week.
Some would find this worrying. Before I went away last weekend, I'd have agreed. But at the moment, it couldn't be better: I don't have to go to work, where I get stressed out, and my flatmates are away, thus relieving the stress of my homelife. This hiatus is amazing, and I've made a remarkable recovery. To a certain extent.
Half-way through the last school holiday of the academic year, once I go back to school next week, I will be working for ten weeks straight. There is a long weekend at some point in May, but that can hardly be regarded as a break, as such. But next week also marks the return of my flatmates, one of whom will probably darken my mood and let me sink back into the near-depression I experienced just before this holiday.
There was a time when I was this confident, outspoken individual who was clear about who she is and where she's going. Now, when my flatmate is around, I feel like a shell of my former self. I feel that I should be conforming to what my flatmate questions me on with regard to my approach to how I look. Then, I get flashes of anger that I'm even questioning whether I have the wrong approach. Everyone has their own opinions on this subject, but the bottom line is, whatever makes the individual happiest portrays the best image to others. And the fact that I don't give a stuff if I have a hair out of place to go to work, or that I'd rather have an extra half hour in bed every morning than to get up and cover up a few flaws on my face says a lot about my character. Or at least I thought it did. I guess it still does, in a sense that even though I feel much less confident about myself these days, my stubborn streak hasn't faltered, and so I'm sticking to my guns as a form of rebellion, protest.
I wasn't broken before I came here. But somehow in my mind I'm trying to fix myself, trying to bring myself round to my flatmate's way of thinking. Then I get all upset about it and realise that I'm being silly even contemplating changing who I am because of someone I've known for less than three months. And so I carry on as I am, resulting in this merry-go-round of emotions that is cutting me up but also making me stronger, bit by bit, insult by insult. The only thing that rings true in my mind these days is something my mother has said all my (and her) life:
"Take me as I am, or not at all."
That may sound stubborn and uncompromising. But all it says is that I have my principles, my reasons, my own mind. If a person can't respect that, then maybe that person isn't worth getting to know and becoming friends with.
Some would find this worrying. Before I went away last weekend, I'd have agreed. But at the moment, it couldn't be better: I don't have to go to work, where I get stressed out, and my flatmates are away, thus relieving the stress of my homelife. This hiatus is amazing, and I've made a remarkable recovery. To a certain extent.
Half-way through the last school holiday of the academic year, once I go back to school next week, I will be working for ten weeks straight. There is a long weekend at some point in May, but that can hardly be regarded as a break, as such. But next week also marks the return of my flatmates, one of whom will probably darken my mood and let me sink back into the near-depression I experienced just before this holiday.
There was a time when I was this confident, outspoken individual who was clear about who she is and where she's going. Now, when my flatmate is around, I feel like a shell of my former self. I feel that I should be conforming to what my flatmate questions me on with regard to my approach to how I look. Then, I get flashes of anger that I'm even questioning whether I have the wrong approach. Everyone has their own opinions on this subject, but the bottom line is, whatever makes the individual happiest portrays the best image to others. And the fact that I don't give a stuff if I have a hair out of place to go to work, or that I'd rather have an extra half hour in bed every morning than to get up and cover up a few flaws on my face says a lot about my character. Or at least I thought it did. I guess it still does, in a sense that even though I feel much less confident about myself these days, my stubborn streak hasn't faltered, and so I'm sticking to my guns as a form of rebellion, protest.
I wasn't broken before I came here. But somehow in my mind I'm trying to fix myself, trying to bring myself round to my flatmate's way of thinking. Then I get all upset about it and realise that I'm being silly even contemplating changing who I am because of someone I've known for less than three months. And so I carry on as I am, resulting in this merry-go-round of emotions that is cutting me up but also making me stronger, bit by bit, insult by insult. The only thing that rings true in my mind these days is something my mother has said all my (and her) life:
"Take me as I am, or not at all."
That may sound stubborn and uncompromising. But all it says is that I have my principles, my reasons, my own mind. If a person can't respect that, then maybe that person isn't worth getting to know and becoming friends with.
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