Prelapsarian Redux

Sometimes I like to listen to sad songs. Sometimes I want to cry. I’m not a cryer but as I get older and especially after my brain got reset after 500 days of Mental Hell, I feel things a lot more strongly now. I cry more now. And that is a totally and completely good thing. I am no longer the silent type. I was never strong. But there’s nothing weak about feeling things. I think part of my mental health struggles or at least one of my main defense mechanisms was this virtually impenetrable emotional force field. I never let anyone make me cry. I did my best to never show an iota of emotion on my face or ever let my guard down. Sure I still got hurt plenty. And sure I couldn’t always reign in my Vulcan strong level emotions. But I kept a strong external facade. And I also didn’t let things get too close to the uber ultimate core of my soul.

But now I’m different. I’m reborn. I like some of the stuff Jesus said. He seemed like a smart, kind man who didn’t judge people.


(It’s an absolute amoral abomination that soulless self-appointed representatives of him have used him and his words to commit no end of crimes against humanity. It’s the most despicable and evil thing that has ever been visited upon humanity.)

(What’s that? The holocaust? Slavery? Colonialism? Hitler was decidedly anti-Christian and he stated as such several times. But guess where the slave trade looked for justification for its evil? The supremacy of Christianity. The same logic was used to justify the colonization of countries by Christian European powers. Hell, at one point the pope himself split the world up between Spain and Portugal as if he had the tucking right to do anything like that.)

Right, so I feel reborn. I see things differently now. I value different things now. I still love some of the same things and the same people but everything has shifted. It’s as if I got a magical new eyeglass prescription. I understand people who meditate get to a similar mental state. A friend who practices told me that before he began meditating, he was in the dryer tumbling around with the rest of the chaos. But once he changed how he viewed his thoughts, it was as if he was now standing outside the dryer and peacefully watching the chaos.

I wouldn’t say I’m at complete peace yet but I’ve never felt this secure and good about who I am and what I value. I went through fucking hell to get to this place but I’m gonna do my damndest to never go back.

So right I got sidetracked and I was supposed to talk about being sappy. So yeah now shit makes me cry or be sad inside that never did before. And, again, that’s great.

I was listening to an especially sappy song just now: Calum Scott’s ‘Dancing On My Own’ (a cover of Swedish singer Robyn’s 2010 original). Her lyrics pretty much crystallize some of the worst whiniest moments of my life. I’ve only ever let myself get romantically jealous of two women in my life. Once back when I had hair and weighed 50 fewer pounds in the early aughts. And another time I won’t specify but that wasn’t anything like the early aught disaster. You could say the first was the earthquake and be second was a minuscule aftershock. Both still shook me. Both still hurt me. But the degree is critical.

So here are the lyrics that I’d like to quickly comment on as I’ve been digressing like a motherfucker.

My brilliant observations will be demarcated by 3 dashes immediately following the offending (j/k) lyric:

(Oh right. The gender pronouns in this song are not correct when it comes to my personal identification but that doesn’t really matter. It’s the thoughts that are universal to me anyway.)

Somebody said you got a new friend

—-yep I remember getting that news. Gut punch.

Does she love you better than I can?

—-for sure, I’m shitty at romantic loving.

There’s a big black sky over my town

—-DC area actually has plenty of sunshine but there was certainly a big black sky in the bloody tundra that was my soul (oh leave me alone, I know that’s ludicrous).

I know where you’re at, I bet she’s around

—-yeah a “friend” told me where they would be.

Yeah, I know it’s stupid

—-yep. Colossally.

I just gotta see it for myself

—-yep. There was no stopping me. I would have cold-cocked my best friend to get to that club. And I hate clubs.

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, ohh

—-yep. I was a BIG creepy loser.

I’m right over here, why can’t you see me, ohh

—-the creepy loser fantasy is that she would see me and suddenly realize she’s made a terrible mistake and rushes over to me professing her undying love for me (there’s a reason they are called fantasies).

I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the girl you’re taking home, ooo

—-I sure as fuck was not.

I keep dancing on my own (I keep dancing on my own)

—-I’m a terrible dancer but in the last 5 years, I’ve been going out there anyway. One time a pretty woman joined me out of the blue and gave me every hint, verbal and physical, that I should ask for the number and I just plain choked and said nothing and ran away

I’m just gonna dance all night

—-sure, why not. Keep the Red Bull and vodka doubles coming.

I’m all messed up, I’m so out of line


Stilettos and broken bottles

—-the club where my shit went down was way more bougie.

I’m spinning around in circles

—-In many more ways than one, amigos.

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, ohh

—-sigh. Yep. Still there.

I’m right over here, why can’t you see me, ohh

—-still hoping to be seen. Still hoping not to be seen. Still hoping.

I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the girl you’re taking home, ooo

—-I don’t think I ever gave it my all when it came to getting love. But she definitely didn’t go home with me.

I keep dancing on my own (I keep dancing on my own)

—-yep. Alcohol and caffeine powered all night.

So far away, but still so near

—-story of my fucking life. There’s no opportunity I haven’t fucked up.

The lights go on, the music dies

—-and so do my hopes. Fuck.

But you don’t see me standing here

—-thank god. Why god? Yeah, I know why.

I just came to say goodbye

—-fuck that shit. I definitely only went there to check out my doom, not step into the maelstrom.

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, ohh

—-this chorus is making me even sadder.

I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the girl you’re taking home, ohh

—-nope. But if it was a parallel universe where two copies of me existed simultaneously and we were both at least bisexual, I probably would go with the other person and run like hell from me.

I keep dancing on my own (I keep dancing on my own)

—-what the fuck else could I have done that night?

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her, ohh

—-thank god the club closed eventually. Hell would be having to stay locked in there for eternity.

I’m right over here, why can’t you see me, ohh

—-old Gypsy curse: may you get what you wish for.

I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the girl you’re taking home, ooo

—-honestly, good for her. I was and am emotionally unavailable anyway. I may say I want love and even crave it but the fucking truth is that I don’t have fucking balls to be truly vulnerable.

I keep dancing on my own (I keep dancing on my own)

—-at the end of the day, we all die a thousand little deaths before we meet their mother.

I keep dancing on my own

—-thank tucking god this song is over. Listening to it on repeat to write this post was wrecking me.

So yeah I think you can see why this song hit me. In my new incarnation, my force field armor isn’t automatic anymore and I don’t even know if it’s effective even when it is on anymore. And that’s mostly good but I do have to consider that I’m flying through the air without my customary net anymore. The invisible wires are gone. It’s just me and god and we really don’t like each other.

But it’s ok to be emotionally naked. Not that I’m a believer (I feel the Bible is an extremely uneven, in terms of quality, poetry and prose fiction anthology), but weren’t Adam and Eve happiest when they were running around naked and without shame? Of course, they were also kept from real knowledge so they were just pablum absorbing hairless fuck apes anyway but who am I to quibble?

So it’s like I’ve Benjamin Buttoned myself into prelapserian Jose. Before god and religion and shame and bullshit and hellfire and civility got mixed into my brain to make another fucked up neurotic human batter.

The song made me also think about the aftershock. It’s that classic stomach churn that you get when you see the object of your affection kiss someone else. I don’t know why jealousy and sadness coalesce in the acids and enzymes that swish around in the stomach. Why don’t you feel pain in your heart if that’s where Cupid says we store love? Why don’t our heads ache because that’s where biologists would say we store our emotions. I don’t know. But it’s a fucking horrible feeling. It’s a physical and emotional gut punch.

Back in the early aughts, there was a 6 month period when I got punched daily. I almost dissipated into dust.

But this tiny little earthquake still stung a bit. Honestly, it almost made me nostalgic for those old painful months. I missed the pain.

But now even though I am open and more likely to feel the punch, their effects don’t last as long anymore. I am water now and they just pass through me.

Their fire cannot singe me anymore.

I like it here. I’m gonna stay. Or die tryin’.

Yours in neurosis,



Am I somehow connected to a talented Swedish musician? Or are we both connected to the same pain? Yeah, it’s the latter I think. I only know a few words in Swedish so we would have trouble communicating (though like pretty much all Swedes speak English anyway).


A couple quick, interesting reasons I found about why my stomach hurts when I feel strong romantic jealousy:

1. What you’re feeling is most likely your solar plexus, whether you are aware of it or not. This is the 3rd chakra in the human body, counted from below. It deals with emotions. Often when people get upset or their emotional body is otherwise disturbed, they get a ‘knot’ in their stomach and the origin is this chakra. A chakra is not physical but ties into your energy body. However because everything is connected, you also feel it in your physical body. It ties into the adrenal glands and our immune system. Pain is always a warning signal so it is a sign for you to work on your jealousy or other emotions.

2. The word is “PANGS”. The exact hormonal flow is not known to me. But these pangs may happen at loss, grief, emptiness etc. I get it sometimes out of blue hearing some sad music, triggering a memory bomb. A memory bomb can be a sad song, person, situation or even a piece of paper. The subconscious mind registers these objects/things along with the sad incident. As we come in connection with these in another time, consciously or unconsciously subconscious mind trigger these bombs. And pangs happen.

3. The threat of a challenger who could leave you jobless–or single–activates a fear reaction in the amygdala, triggering the fight-or-flight response that ramps up the production of adrenaline and noradrenaline, explains Frank John Ninivaggi, a psychiatrist at Yale’s Child Study Center.

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