Ever feel psychologically displaced?
Lately my opening lines have been optimistically poised in the form of questions.
I’m not 100% sure what it means to be psychologically displaced- if it’s a cool term I just made up a couple minutes ago or if it’s a real thing.
Let’s assume I’m making it up, that way I can take full creative liberties.
Psychological Displacement is when you can’t find your anchor inside you- the one that tells you you’re real.
For instance, some minutes ago, my co-worker and I were toying with the idea of taking a class together.
I was going on about how much I miss school, and she was going on about how dumb she is, so we flipped through the community college’s course catalog.
Of course, we had to focus on courses without pre-requisites, but I was still excited.
Then I couldn’t find anything that interests me.
There’s got to be a thousand courses in there, and not one makes me feel anything.
This is very unusual.
Am I depressed?
But I can’t feel it.
Then again, I am sucking on a butterscotch lollipop.
My mind is usually very active.
I often find myself telling me to shut up.
Especially at 4 AM, I wake up and it’s like I’m a tiger running at full speed through a jungle, except that the monkeys hanging along the way are all people nagging about something.
But at this very moment, nothing or no one engages my attention.
I could plan a vacation, but that usually implies flying (flying+me= panic attacks).
There are a few tasks I could work on in the office, but that usually implies working.
I probably need a good novel.
I don’t follow too many people on social media.
It depresses me when other bloggers don’t engage.
I probably need something like a friend or something.
My husband texts me usually every day but he’s really busy and doesn’t get my jokes.
It’s ok I guess. He tries.
Well not the jokes.
He doesn’t even pretend to get them.
Hardly anyone does.
Idk maybe I’m not amusing.
Maybe my cuteness is an illusion of mine.
At church all I ever want to do is draw.
I sit in the corner so no one sees me.
I think I’m going to start going to an English-speaking congregation on the side.
Maybe I’ll make new friends.
Or at least I’ll get to draw new people.
The thing missing in me is passion.
Everything seems to have already been done.
I still take great pictures.
But it seems like it’s enough that I see them.
I have no pressing need to share them, like before.
Maybe I’m lonely.
But not for people in general.
I should’ve had a sister.
My ex-psychologist once told me life screwed me over by not giving me a sister.
I have these friends: B. and C.
B. is my best friend.
But she is the female personality version of my husband.
Super ultra mega busy.
She’s always there when you need her, but it better be important.
C. is easy to talk to and very creative.
But she doesn’t open up to me about her own life problems, so she’s more of a therapist than a friend.
R. is another friend.
We communicate in the same wavelength but unfortunately she’s 15.
Starting to get a bit too mature.
Other than that I don’t have close friends.
Just acquaintances and cats.
Maybe I need to change my entire approach to life.
Maybe drinking isn’t the answer.