While writing my post about Suffering Magnets, I came to the realization that I may be a One-Upper.
You know, those people who tell you something of equal or greater horror when you tell them something bad that happened to you?
I don't mean to be a One-Upper, it is just that people tell me something has happened to them and then, in an effort to relate, I tell a story about something similar that has happened to me, which usually tends to be a bit more terrible because, as we have established, things are always bafflingly fucked up in my life. So I hear the words just flowing out of my head and I think, 'SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP. They think you are playing the Grief Olympics.. they think you are an asshole, just shut the hell up'... but OMG it just feels so good to share grief, to remove it from your stupid jerk head and let it out into the world like a little grief dragon, to let it stretch and spread its wings after keeping it cooped up in your belfry of a brain ALL THE TIME.
I'd like to quietly listen and say, "Oh jeepers! That is just so awful, you poor person, what can I do?" but it is rarely what ends up happening. Even though I try... really really hard.
But in no way am I trying to be a Grief Shamer.
Grief Shamers are the type of people who won't let you have a second of complaining without reminding you that no matter what you are are upset about, other people have it 7 billion times worse so you should just STFU and be glad your grandpa was eaten by a tiger because your ENTIRE FAMILY could have been eaten by A STREAK OF TIGERS EQUIPPED WITH LASERS!
I don't even believe in shaming "First World Problems." I think sharing suffering make it suck less and there is no shame in that. So, if people wanna complain to me about Bravo's Twitter team spoiling the winner of Top Chef for every time zone other than Eastern, like a bunch of assholes, or finding that their bag of chips is lacking in delicious powdered flavor, I have no problem with that. I just have a problem if you don't want to hear about the time my Chili Cheese Fritos were kinda flavorless, too, and were full of bees that stung my throat and I had to go to the emergency room, but I couldn't get in because it was full of wolves... with lasers.
The bee-flavored Fritos were a regional release only. We got the crappy ones with the painted-on grill marks instead... can't even remember the name of that flavor.
ReplyDeleteALAN! You've been gone so long I'd started to think dreadful thoughts.
DeleteAlso, I need your help identifying a plant!
Ha! I don't mind a little perspective, if someone is getting really seriously worked up over something trivial. Not shaming, but a little bit of a reality check "hey dude...it's just a bag of chips."
ReplyDeleteBut grief shaming for real problems?! I HATE that. "I lost my job." "At least you have your health!" Fuck you, something could ALWAYS be worse but that doesn't make my Bad Thing suck less.
BUT what if they are upset about the chips because their grandpa died in a terrible tiger attack and he used to love those chips, and they had an inside joke about the powder, and the lack of flavor ruined the nostalgia, etc. I just think it is always safe to assume that if someone says something is a problem for them, it is a real problem and I shouldn't try to push that aside because it isn't a problem for me.
DeleteI feel exactly the same way, but with double the lazers.
ReplyDeleteGreat post! Awesome art!
There is really never enough lasers.
DeleteThank you.
ha! my sister is a one-upper AND a grief shamer combined in one marathon-running-abs-of-steel package! so I get to feel that her trauma was worse, mine is dwarfed and inconsequential when compared to tsunami victims in Japan, and of course I get to feel even extra inferior because she works out 12 hours a day and has the body fat of a very skinny lamp-post. *sigh*
ReplyDeleteoops, were we just playing the One Up Game again? I think I won..........
best,
MOV
Thankfully, I have very few grief shamers in my life, probably because I am not terribly nice to them... or maybe it is luck.
DeleteBut yes, I certainly declare you the grief winner in the above scenario! Maybe I should make a grief champion t-shirt.
At least your tigers have lasers. They should be thankful for that. Mine just hold sticks and yell out "pew! pew!".
ReplyDeleteI kinda want you to create a clay version of that.
DeleteThat reminds me of the time my family got attacked by rabid wolverines with rocket launchers, and on their shoulders were angry squirrels with even smaller rocket launchers. It was adorable, really.
ReplyDeleteSeriously though, I used to work with some grief-shamers, and they drove me crazy. I'd say, "Dude, I have to work twelve hours on my birthday" (true story), and they'd be like, "At least you have a job!" I am not going anywhere with this... I was just excited because it seemed like it would be okay to gripe about it here. I love you for that.
How obnoxious is that!? We need to come up with a response that makes people cut that shit out.
DeleteI usually fall back on "I'm going to stab you to death."
haven't been on so much lately...your post always bring me back :)
ReplyDeleteMy tigers have lasers AND freeze rays, but I really do feel your pain about the Fritos...so you still have a sense of taste...that must be nice...I loved this post, as it validated some of my own ponderings. I am not saying my ponderings were more intense than yours--just relating! ;)
ReplyDeleteI'm an asshole. But at least I'm not alone in my assholery. I caught myself being a Grief Shamer the other day. I tried to make up for it by being more sympathetic but, it only got worse. That voice in my head that says "Shut up about that no one cares"? Needs to get louder and more insistant... And you're right, I did like this post. :)
ReplyDeleteI could one-up ya cause I always have somebody beatin' me down into the ground with a sledgehammer, but I will let you have this one, except I do love the Grief Olympics and could totally see that one illustrated with medals and everything! Love it!
ReplyDeleteI love your grief dragon. Mine would be, I fear, much less cute. Mostly because I can't draw. But also because I keep it stuffed in its pathetic dungeon cave most of the time, so it's full of self-loathing and hate for everyone, and whenever it gets out it tears the ever-loving intestines out of everything in sight, and wears them like a glorious robe. (I'm catching up on several posts at once. It's good extended imagery.)
ReplyDelete