Yes, it's true. I did not go to work yesterday. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm walking down the street downtown tonight and some random just pulled me over his knee. That's how bad I've been, Santa. That's how bad I've been. But seriously, I was on the tail-end of this damn flu-thingy and I think the extra day during a slow-as-hell-week at work was just what the doctor ordered. So onto other things.

There's this song that Band-Aid did a few years back, "Do They Know it's Chrismtastime". I LOVE the song, belt it out every year with all of my sisters while we decorate the tree. We're very dramatic when we sing it, dancing around with ornaments, arms moving dramatically to "act out" each verse. A coworker brought it in today, and I've discovered ambiguity amidst the words I know so well. It's a song about poor starving children in Africa, all these famous people got together to release a song as a fundraiser for them.

One of the lines is, "The greatest gift they'll get this year is life." And I wonder, is that so bad? Did they mean that life is the greatest gift there is, so give food and money so that they can survive? Or are they being sarcastic, like "God, that's the GREATEST gift they'll get, so give money for toys and they'll get better presents"? I just wonder about that. As I type this, the song is playing. Now my eyes are watering. It really is a great fucking song.

But back to my life. I'm in detach mode. I feel very withdrawn from people, though they wouldn't notice, because I'm around, I'm doing things. But mentally, I'm withdrawing. The detachment is spurred on by a lot of little things. Most of the people I draw away from are people I just don't want with major roles in the movie of my life. They only make the first audition, if you know what I mean. But not all of them. I have a tendency to detach from people I feel I may lose.

You could go into this psychologically, Hmm, she must have a fear of abandonment due to someone leaving her or someone she loved at a very young age. No, I don't have that history. I think we all fear being left on one level or another. Abandonment is an issue we're born with, not one we acquire due to childhood circumstances, though I'm sure some situations could definitely exacerbate it.

I was just born with mine, nothing special. So, I find myself breaking away to do my own thing, not as much because I want to do my own thing as much as I have this little fear that I may end up with no one to do anything with. We tell ourselves that we choose our situations, because it makes us feel as if we are in control of our lives. And we are, to a point. I can control how I feel about being alone, I can control who I allow to enter my life, and I can control what significance people will have in the rooms of my mind I allow them to enter.

But I can't control people who want to leave. I can stand at the door and assure them that they are welcome to return, but I can't lock them in to keep them from leaving. I've seen other people try that, it just makes them want to leave all the more. For those who want to leave, I usually try to keep my "house" warm, welcoming. But sometimes, that fear thing that I have has the tendency to take over. And I end up pushing out the people whom I "think" are edging their way towards the door anyway.

I know, it's sick. It's irrational. It reveals a deep-rooted insecurity. But it's there, it's a part of me, and that part of me likes to remain safe. It would rather venture out and brave the cold winds of lonliness, thinking of it as an adventure, than be pushed out into the storm with no other alternative.

So, Christmas is this weekend. I'll be around plenty of people. There's a lot going on, parties tonight, parties tomorrow night. Some good friends will be out of town, some good friends will be in town, and everyone will be bustling about, doing their own things, with their own plans, and their own lives. I'll be there, in the middle of all of it, with a huge smile on my face as I again appreciate the luck I have to be surrounded by so many wonderful people. And then I will go home, to write, and kick myself in the ass for having the gall to be lugubrious for what I don't have, when I should be jumping with joy for all that I do have.

To keep my head above water during my dramatic pensive periods, I recall a quote I shared with my father a few years ago: "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." Ah, sweet perspective. I'll be fine.

-Barbarella

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