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Inversion Delight
Aug. 29th, 2021 11:52 pmToday, I heard a song on college radio called "The Virus", released by Shaina Shepherd last summer. It is frenetic and timeless, familiar and in-your-face. I haven't looked over the lyrics or origin other than the one listen, but it really filled out a mood for me today:
Holding back is exhausting.
Now as someone whose entire success in life can be traced back to the decision to embrace sobriety back when I was a preteen, thus setting me on a path of experimentalism and life-hacks so constant that even my close friends are sometimes surprised/put off, restraint is kind of my thing.
Not all restraint. Strategic restraint. Like things intense and have a family history of addiction? Swear off substances before you ever try them. Similar concerns about penetrative sex? Wait for someone special (even if you're not very good at knowing what constitutes "special" at 18). Feel like someone who's into you is a little too into you? Slow things down until you know more. That kind of stuff.
I often say that relationships and communication might be my "special interests", but the tool through which I develop them are perpetual analysis and adaptive restraint. My feelings about a situation don't matter until I know what's at stake, what the risks are, and where my room to maneuver lies. But the goal behind it all is that I like to get to a point where I can relax and just FEEL things, unconstrained. That's how I like my communication, my friendships, my sex, my music... And I have more than once noticed that I could invert depression if I just let myself express grief as celebration of what was had rather than mourning what was lost.
18 months into the pandemic, this song helped me realize I'm tired of holding it all in. I'm ready for music that conveys the devastation with captivating humor and intensity. I'm ready for news that doesn't balance, research that doesn't prevaricate, conversations that move each other, and criticisms that matter. I'm especially ready for these things to take the place of all the touch I've lost over the course of this summer and the realities of pandemic life.
Obviously, I can't be out-and-proud all the time and about every subject, but I think I'm going to find ways to invert the grief of these apocalyptic events. Because if I don't find something to celebrate I just might fall apart.
Holding back is exhausting.
Now as someone whose entire success in life can be traced back to the decision to embrace sobriety back when I was a preteen, thus setting me on a path of experimentalism and life-hacks so constant that even my close friends are sometimes surprised/put off, restraint is kind of my thing.
Not all restraint. Strategic restraint. Like things intense and have a family history of addiction? Swear off substances before you ever try them. Similar concerns about penetrative sex? Wait for someone special (even if you're not very good at knowing what constitutes "special" at 18). Feel like someone who's into you is a little too into you? Slow things down until you know more. That kind of stuff.
I often say that relationships and communication might be my "special interests", but the tool through which I develop them are perpetual analysis and adaptive restraint. My feelings about a situation don't matter until I know what's at stake, what the risks are, and where my room to maneuver lies. But the goal behind it all is that I like to get to a point where I can relax and just FEEL things, unconstrained. That's how I like my communication, my friendships, my sex, my music... And I have more than once noticed that I could invert depression if I just let myself express grief as celebration of what was had rather than mourning what was lost.
18 months into the pandemic, this song helped me realize I'm tired of holding it all in. I'm ready for music that conveys the devastation with captivating humor and intensity. I'm ready for news that doesn't balance, research that doesn't prevaricate, conversations that move each other, and criticisms that matter. I'm especially ready for these things to take the place of all the touch I've lost over the course of this summer and the realities of pandemic life.
Obviously, I can't be out-and-proud all the time and about every subject, but I think I'm going to find ways to invert the grief of these apocalyptic events. Because if I don't find something to celebrate I just might fall apart.
