what doesn’t kill you

I called in sick today since I really was sick. I was also in the mood for a bit of hooky, but I was too really sick to go out, and I was also too distracted to either read or binge blog so here. I basically ended up watching a whole lot of The Big Bang Theory in mixed seasons. I know it’s a bit weird but since it was comedy, it didn’t need to make that much sense anyway, and it was still funny.

I pointed out to my brother that Chuck Lorre, creator of the show, had some sort of thing with his vanity card that was displayed at the end of each episode, if you really weren’t paying attention, you would really miss it. Long story short, one of the vanity cards on one of the episodes had a short commentary on “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” He actually mentioned it along the lines of “What doesn’t kill you makes you bitter.”
**You could check it out here: http://www.chucklorre.com/index-bbt.php?p=345.

That made me wonder if Mr. Lorre had something going on with that statement. I would have to agree with Mr. Lorre that this does seem to be true. All throughout our lives we experience moments in which we feel that we’re going to die.
Take this one time when I had my first brush with technically food poisoning. As I was wrenching in pain in the middle of my bed one gloomy afternoon, I ended up thinking of what I would do or would have done better if this was it, if this was my actual time to go. I was replaying scenarios of how my funeral would look like, who would be the handful that would come, and then years later, when my brothers finally figure out the passwords to my online accounts and all of the online personalities I have kept hidden in my black book, they would mutter with disgust how they should have just left me for dead, or worse that I was truly just another adopted son. Or something like that. But fortunately, my godfather, not a fairy, came to the rescue and brought me to the hospital before anything that would have counted as near-fatal by my mother’s hysterical standards would have happened and I survived. Not even a near-death experience really, but because it was all mine and the pain was all too real, I would say that moment was worth mentioning.

Or, for another example, when I ended breaking up with one of my exes. That was hard. I just felt like crying all alone at the house, but since my family had this thing about not recognizing “alone” time, I had to suppress all tears until I finished cleaning the whole house by my mother’s chagrin. With a whole day of holding back the tears, while not holding back on chemical cleaning agents, I felt numb and never cried about it. Ever again. I just learned how to deal, basically by staring at blank white spaces on my wall, which isn’t really white but is some shade of green, but since I am color-blind by profession, anything greenish would look whitish like the “go” of the traffic light; contemplating things I could have said to made the break-up more dramatic than the pathetic long-distance call it was.

These two experiences, among many, I think has made me a stronger, better is debatable. I have been eating a lot better, or have been trying to eat a lot better ever since that episode, only to learn that I have developed stones in y kidneys, but still, sodium just makes everyone feel bloated anyway. And from the break-up, I have learned to put up a wall against anyone showing even the faintest hint of attraction, telling them off before they even make any sort of move. But don’t these things also make us a little more bitter in a way? I and a couple of friends actually started a small group which became notorious for bitterness before, that we were actually the last people to be invited in any social gathering if anyone really had a choice. Not a few of our own closest friends didn’t really want to be around us, feeding off the negativity and indifference, but then I just say that because none of our closest friends would actually admit to it. But we had good times, wallowing in the drama, especially if you would define having a “good time” as sitting in a bar contemplating how these extremely loud and happy people around us were just plain stupid and didn’t have any clue what’s was coming to them once the lights have stopped blinking and the alcoholic buzz had worn off. Yep, those were good times alright.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s