I could very well do with a little less drama in my life. Seriously, the proverb "things that don't kill you make you stronger" is just bullshit, if you ask me. I could be very happy without all the things that failed to kill me; I could very well do without all the wounds, scars-in-the-making and scar tissues; without being "marked" by life. I have nothing against an easy-going life; things going smoothly; not having to deal with the sometimes unbearable impingement of other people's actions on me.
On a less self-depressive note, I wonder how come that when something unbelievable happens to me (whether it is a good or a bad thing, but particularly when it is a bad thing), I feel as if I am in a dream or in a movie. This is what I say: "I can't believe this is really happening; I feel like I'm in a movie."
Maybe it is just a way to express the surreal, uncanny feeling of not being able to grasp, to understand - emotionally and rationally - what is going on. In those moments, you realize what Freud meant when he said that we always only experience things retroactively; it is because life is just too big, too confused, too overwhelming to understand in a single moment; to make sense of it.
(Which is what we humans always want to do: make sense. Even when there is no sense. You get hurt. You suffer. Is there any sense to it? Did you somehow deserve it? Maybe this is why the proverb "the things that don't kill you make you stronger" makes me so angry. As if there was something to learn from pain. As if there was something to gain from it, like a utilitarianism of pain. You got hurt, but hey, at least you're gonna get something out of it. As if there was something to make out of the suffering. I refuse this. I refuse to make sense out of my suffering. I sometimes very childlishly - call it melodramatically - dig into the suffering; psychosomatically feeling emotional pain as if it was bodily pain [but is there really any difference between the two?]. You got hurt. And you got hurt again. And again. Does it make you stronger? Sure doesn't feel that way. Sure still feels like a full blow of a fist hitting your groin. Sure still feels like someone spitting in your face. Only now I can say: Oh, I know this feeling. I remember. Maybe this is what the proverb eventually means to say: strenght is just a habitude of pain; it's a recognition [in the sense of: I know this] of suffering. I think it was Levinas who said the most unethical responses to another person's suffering was either to say you understand or to trying to make "sense" and thereby relativize it.)
Maybe it is also because when something "bigger than life" (which really means: "bigger than your life") happens, I feel like something is done to me (rather than I am doing something, actively). So to say "I feel like I am in a movie" is to express this inaction, this passivity, this pouring down of events on me; like actors in a movie being directed; like the feeling when you're in a dream and you can't get out; things just happen - you don't understand how or why. You do things - but you don't understand how or why. The best you can do is to somehow act mechanically; without thinking; without realizing this is happening to you - right now, right this moment, it is really you. If someone told you this story - but it is your story, don't you get it yet, it really is your story -, if someone told you this story, you'd shake your head with a slight laughter of disbelief. This can't be true, is it? It must be a movie - fiction, an ingenious work of thoughts and a dramatical plot written so as to entertain other people and make them shake their head in slight disbelief.
In short: my life is like a bad soap today. But hey: One day I might look back, shake my head with a slight laughter of disbelief and say: I can't believe this really happened to me.
On a less self-depressive note, I wonder how come that when something unbelievable happens to me (whether it is a good or a bad thing, but particularly when it is a bad thing), I feel as if I am in a dream or in a movie. This is what I say: "I can't believe this is really happening; I feel like I'm in a movie."
Maybe it is just a way to express the surreal, uncanny feeling of not being able to grasp, to understand - emotionally and rationally - what is going on. In those moments, you realize what Freud meant when he said that we always only experience things retroactively; it is because life is just too big, too confused, too overwhelming to understand in a single moment; to make sense of it.
(Which is what we humans always want to do: make sense. Even when there is no sense. You get hurt. You suffer. Is there any sense to it? Did you somehow deserve it? Maybe this is why the proverb "the things that don't kill you make you stronger" makes me so angry. As if there was something to learn from pain. As if there was something to gain from it, like a utilitarianism of pain. You got hurt, but hey, at least you're gonna get something out of it. As if there was something to make out of the suffering. I refuse this. I refuse to make sense out of my suffering. I sometimes very childlishly - call it melodramatically - dig into the suffering; psychosomatically feeling emotional pain as if it was bodily pain [but is there really any difference between the two?]. You got hurt. And you got hurt again. And again. Does it make you stronger? Sure doesn't feel that way. Sure still feels like a full blow of a fist hitting your groin. Sure still feels like someone spitting in your face. Only now I can say: Oh, I know this feeling. I remember. Maybe this is what the proverb eventually means to say: strenght is just a habitude of pain; it's a recognition [in the sense of: I know this] of suffering. I think it was Levinas who said the most unethical responses to another person's suffering was either to say you understand or to trying to make "sense" and thereby relativize it.)
Maybe it is also because when something "bigger than life" (which really means: "bigger than your life") happens, I feel like something is done to me (rather than I am doing something, actively). So to say "I feel like I am in a movie" is to express this inaction, this passivity, this pouring down of events on me; like actors in a movie being directed; like the feeling when you're in a dream and you can't get out; things just happen - you don't understand how or why. You do things - but you don't understand how or why. The best you can do is to somehow act mechanically; without thinking; without realizing this is happening to you - right now, right this moment, it is really you. If someone told you this story - but it is your story, don't you get it yet, it really is your story -, if someone told you this story, you'd shake your head with a slight laughter of disbelief. This can't be true, is it? It must be a movie - fiction, an ingenious work of thoughts and a dramatical plot written so as to entertain other people and make them shake their head in slight disbelief.
In short: my life is like a bad soap today. But hey: One day I might look back, shake my head with a slight laughter of disbelief and say: I can't believe this really happened to me.
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