Complaining, Venting, Blogging
Let me be frank: I complain, but I really, really try not to. It so fucking pointless. Do something about the thing that is bothering you, or accept it, and move TF on. This feeling has been particularly acute of late, because one of my closest and dearest friends just had to decide what organs to donate from her dead 10-year-old son’s body, when to pull the plug on his life support, what services or not they would have, and where, who to include in the final, family viewing, and how to talk about all of this to his three siblings, two of whom are age twelve and under.
So, you want to complain about your fucking sinus headache, buddy? I am not interested in hearing it, although, honestly, I did hear it, I did listen, I didn’t say get over your precious self, I simply nodded along and was sympathetic because I am not an emotional terrorist, even though I feel terrible and horrible and shitty and astonished that my old body is alive and relatively well, while this lovely little boy who was so funny and so sweet and so young – is not.
Emotional terrorism is when someone who has a sinus headache and possible infection is terrorized by a sleep-deprived, sad, bewildered lady telling him something along the lines of ‘Oh, your head hurts? That sounds awful – but, what do I know, my friend’s ten-year-old kid just died, brother fucker, but sure, please, go on and tell me alllllll about your fucking headache!’
Complaining is not the same as venting. Venting is needing to be heard, without judgement (ideally), by a friend or other helpful and sympathetic person who may interject words of encouragement and support, or not. Venting via blog is what happens after someone complains about their fcking sinus headache after I have had a night of very little sleep due to the fact that I keep dreaming about the wake I am going to for that little boy, and in the dream I am as lost and overwhelmed as I feel in life. Sleep is supposed to be restorative. How can it be restorative when this is what shows up? Sigh.
Blogging is venting. Complaining is not blogging or venting, it’s being a childish, whiny prick about the irritating, banal minutiae of daily existence and even some actual challenges we all face in the course of living life in a world wherein we’re so fucking spoiled and entitled it ain’t funny. Good god, the line at the bank/post office/grocery store is so long! Oh shut up already! Your life is so good!!!
It is so gorgeous out today. My noble steed/dog is precious and sweet, as always and ever (mostly), asleep on the couch after barking all morning at various sounds and birds (he really doesn’t like robins, they’re too big, plus how dare they be on his lawn). But, my heart is still broken, and I don’t know how to get better. Yet I know I will. Grief is a process. No one does it well. No one.