A Reasoned Look at My Unreasonableness
I jumped off the balcony today.
Not like I had any choice, really; my roommate accidentally locked me out on it when he stopped talking to me. Still, it's part and parcel of a disturbing trend, at least one third of it being my fault (because there are three people involved). Case in point: after jumping off the balcony and dusting myself off, I let myself back in with my key, trudged up the stairs, and immediately set about washing the dishes. Then I collected up all the bottles that have been accumulating for the past few weeks and marched back out to take them to the recycling bins about a block down the street. After that I returned, cleaned off the grill my roommate used to cook chicken yesterday, collected the garbage, and left again to take it out to the dumpster at the end of the apartment complex's driveway
Now, I can understand why these things accumulate until I get to them; it is because I have the smallest tolerance in the group for it and so, hopefully subconsciously, my roommates know that if they just ignore it it will be taken care of. This, however, puts me in the unenviable position of babysitting my roommates. I have brought this up to them, only to be summarily "yeah, uhuh"'d into meaninglessness and, if I get the least bit assertive about it, they pretend that managing to clean up after themselves during the two weeks I was not around to do it for them somehow counts as reciprocation of duties. Fact is, no one cares and I should get over it. No big deal.
Plot thickens--it turns out that they do indeed care, but they only tell people who aren't me. This leaves me and my self-esteem with an interesting little thing to ponder: apparently I actually am enough of an entity to cause occasional concern for my well-being. Huzzah. On the other hand, I am not important enough to actually go out of one's way to do anything for. This makes me feel just great. They know what actions of theirs annoys me, they know I'm annoyed, and apparently they don't want me to be annoyed. So, if all of this is true, then... where's the action? Where's the force of personal will and responsibility that makes warm fuzzy feelings into reality?
Not important enough, apparently. Having me clean up after them is more profitable in the short- and long-terms than making sure I'm anywhere near appeased. And that's fine.
Now, a statement on my response of "and that's fine." I most certainly possess a martyr complex and I have no idea why. I do not enjoy it, and I no longer try to rationalize it. It simply is. It manifests itself in my expectation to be the long-suffering workhorse and my lack of hope of any sort of reprieve or help. It has the supporting symptoms of a quiet desire to be noticed for my actions and applauded for them, and, of course, an equally quiet desire for help. I am also caught by the conflicting desire of wanting to take it easy (for which I tend to think of myself as slothful whilst no one else seems to agree) and the knowledge that, most times, if I don't do it in a timely fashion it will never get done. Yes, I have tried to let things sit for a few days to see if anyone else will do it. They don't get done. I have tried asking other people for help; it either gets brushed off and forgotten ("I'll do it later" or "I'll get to it" syndrome, which is quite prevalent in at least one person I know) or they grumble as suddenly I start cramping their style with pointed suggestions... and something I absolutely hate to do is impose on others except in very rare circumstances which generally don't involve my own well-being.
This complex of mine has three very simple tenets:
I am alone. In the beginning, middle, and end, I am the only person I can count on to do anything. Anyone else with both the conviction and the power to do anything for me will inevitably be too far removed from the situation to do anything. All those surrounding me can be counted on to rely on my services but be proven unreliable in return.
There's no use in complaining. Being human and therefore not as invulnerable and strong as I'd like to be, I will inevitably rant from time to time, but the key point is other than reducing my own stress level by not "bottling up" it serves no purpose. As per the first tenet, no one will assist just because I am less than pleased with the situation.
I may as well get used to it. Adapt and live, so they say, and this is my environment and I'm sure as hell going to adapt to it. I'm not going to let something so pitifully stupid stop me. As the situation will eventually evolve (but not anytime soon) and the previous two tenets leave me somewhat shy of options, that leaves me with the only acceptable response: acceptance and adaptation.
So, yeah, that's pretty much it. First step of twelve, I suppose. And just now a roomie stepped in informing me that he dropped one of my water bottles in a storm drain. Ah well. At least he offered to boil it before throwing it away.
Added note: Oh, and of course everyone else will play the guilt card on me when I end up munching on something that they left out without actually informing anyone that they were saving it. It's not like anyone's ever eaten my breakfast, lunch, or dinner before. Sorry for living. I'll just go back to rice and water, seeing how no one else wants that.