For some reason, it’s really important to show how much I’m not effected, or how much I don’t let it effect me (even better).  It’s all about how much I don’t care.  Because if I can show that I care less than you, I win.

Step Four: made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

Three little words; ones so horrible when strung together that their pain can be felt in a variety of ways: I don’t care.

What do you want on your pizza?
I don’t care.
Do you like pepperoni?
I don’t care.  Get whatever you want, I’m probably not going to eat, anyway.
Oh. Would you like to order something other than pizza?
Get what you want, okay? I truly don’t care, alright?

Screw the pizza; here’s what’s really being said:  I don’t care about you.  The pizza doesn’t matter because you’re here and everything sucks anyway, so who gives a shit about pizza?  Like you ordering pizza is going to change my crappy mood.

There’s also the endless duels of not caring that I can get sucked into, where I’m actually arguing how much I don’t care about a topic.  I’ll fight to the bitter end not to be stuck with caring about something more than someone else, like I’ll be burduned with the responsibility of championing the thing ad infinitum.

So why does this hurt so much?  Well, what’s one of the most painful things that happens to me?  Easy:  when I’m expressing something, anything, as long as it’s positive and genuine, and somebody dismisses it out of hand as irrelevant.  Last Thanksgiving, upon learning that I read comic books, I received a disbelieving, “You still do that?” from across the table, as if reading comic books was equal in shame weight to picking my nose or starting small fires in retail stores.  It was distasteful, this gross habit, and hopefully I sprayed myself down with disinfectant once finished.  That little throw-away line still gets replayed every so often in my alcoholic head, reminding me that so-and-so thinks I’m a fool.

So it then becomes my imperative to find something that they cling to and instantly devalue it.  What’s the point of that thing you like?  I guess, if you need that to be happy, but not me, no thank you.  I don’t need something like what you’ve got earmarked as important to get through my day.

And on goes the ugly talk and ugly views until it’s not about a subject anymore, it’s about life choices and who’s better at dismissing the so-called dumb ones. Sick thinking and acting, to be sure, but it’s this subtle bragging, this vaporish bravado, that slowly nudges me ever so slightly off the path that I don’t even recognize it until I’m ten miles down the road and two miles to the left or right of my intended destination.

Today:  Stay the course. God’s will, not mine, be done.  Oh, and try showing a genuine interest in others.  What could it hurt?

2 thoughts on “purported not to care.

  1. I became so good at pretending not to care. It’s such a hard cycle to break. It makes you so vulnerable. It’s terrifying. I’m not very good at being honest about caring. Wishing you strength on your journey.

  2. For me, pretending not to care was a way to avoid conflict. Even the yes or no to pepperoni was a potential conflict that I might “lose”. But now, an odd thing has happened. I can ask for what I want (yes, it’s pepperoni), and if I don’t get it, (say outvoted at the table), well, I can smile, because, now I realize that winnng or losing doesn’t matter. Now I really don’t care. Who would have guessed?

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 )

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