Life Is Pain?

As of late I’ve come to notice something odd about myself. I have been putting myself in situations that place me on the edge of stupidity and risk. I’m not quite sure why I do these things but there’s a pattern and a reason to them. A timing thing.

Like my foot. See, I basically sprained a major tendon that runs under the bottom of my left foot. I managed to do this on Sunday during sex. (How this happened is more a cocktail conversation than an open entry for my mother to stumble across.) But it’s been rather tender and will take a while to heal—in some cases what I did to it could take a year. And yet I find myself leaning it and placing my whole weight on this sore spot thus creating a slight and (sometimes major wave) of pain.

Why I do this I don’t know except it makes me feel something. I mean, it’s unhealthy and odd but there it is. And when I remove the pressure it’s like a rush of sweet relief that can’t be beat. And I’ve done this in other ways recently—placing pain in my path for the numbness afterwards. And it makes no real sense other than I just do it.

It reminds me of this thing that Agnes Nixon once said about her writing, about how when she created Erica Kane (Susan Lucci’s ‘All My Children” character) that the core of the character is doom potential. I know I have written about this idea before—the idea that the person is their own worst enemy and they don’t need outside forces to ruin their life because they purposely put obstacles in the way of their own happiness and well being.

I guess it breaks down to this idea that if someone thinks they should not be happy then they will create their own means to NOT be happy. I mean, I have a great (if crazy) job, a boyfriend who thinks I am the most beautiful amazing guy in the world (I’m really not) and a group of friends that love and care about me (even if they are just as crazy as my job). I should be happy.

I know that a huge part of this is very much my family history. Trying for happy is like the family motto and yet we all mess it up in various ways. Drugs, sex, divorce, meaningless in fighting are all things that have happened and yet we all repeat the same patterns. My brother and I once joked that we wouldn’t know how to handle happy because we’ve never seen it. Really.

And there is a part of me that says that since I am aware of this that I should be able to grow and move on beyond it. And I have tried in the past with dubious results. I guessing though that part of how we move on is to learn what patterns we have and how to not continue them. Which is hard.

Especially when that post pain high is so good.