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| ~~~~~~~~~~ "I'm A Curious Caterpillar" by Eric Arvin ~~~~~~ Photo Courtesy of Eric Arvin |
| I was on the Facebook today, just sifting through comments and the like, when it hit me: I haven't talked - actually TALKED - with any of my friends for quite a while. I haven't heard their voices, let alone seen any of them. This upsets me. I have always struggled with social situations. I grew up a very sheltered individual. My parents' religious conviction demanded that I not have a lot of interaction with what my father called "worldly" kids. This was, I think, my parents' greatest mistake in raising us. In high school I tried to become more social. I joined any club or organization that would take me. It was also at this point that I started developing my obsession with working out. I think it had something to do with control, as in, that was the only thing in my life I had any control over. This obsession ended up saving me when I got sick. My father died my senior year in high school, and I went into a three year social coma. I don't remember a lot of what happened during those years, but that's not strange when it comes to me. To be honest, I don't remember too much of anything before I went to college. I'm sure I need a shrink, but I'm too anti-social to get one. Anyway, college was great for me. Despite some initial embarrassments, I succeeded in gaining many friends and acquaintances. I thought things were going to be super from then on out. I'd go to Australia, get a job, and eventually write my book or books. I recognize now the aimless guy I was, but then I didn't see it. I didn't even think I was anti-social. I thought everyone felt like they were being stared at and judged everywhere they went. Silly, huh? Going through Facebook today, I realized my anti-social behavior has once again taken control of my life. I can blame it on being sick and the recovery, but I won't. I flew back from Australia sicker than I've ever been. No. It's complacency. I feel safe here, but I also feel very bored at times. I need to get out, but it's difficult to know how to do that. Do I just keep writing and hoping? I don't like to worry about these things. But it's only through worrying, through thinking, that anything can be accomplished. This August it will be five years since my surgery. In these five years I've written a library of books and stories and articles, most of which are unpublished at the moment. I've brought myself back from death and out of near paralysis. But it's not enough for me. I'm so demanding on myself as to be abusive. I want wings, dammit. I want to be able to go mountain climbing and cruise-shipping. I took my life for granted before I got sick. I want to do everything I was too scared to do. This isn't me whining. This is me saying that I WILL be able to do those things again someday. Just one question: Do butterflies get vertigo? |
| I'm A Curious Caterpillar is an original writing by Eric Arvin and was reprinted with permission of the author. |
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