thirty one days later
So where am I? Am I better? Am I smarter? Did I win? Does it even matter? Will my answer to any of these questions be a surprise?
The month that just was was supposed to be a month of growth. A month of change. A new direction. A new beginning. It started well. I could feel the winds of change blowing at my back, pushing me forward. I could feel the positivity manifesting itself in the little things that make up the whole. Work was going well. I was finding things to do in my off hours that kept me busy and engaged. I was sleeping well, waking up refreshed and ready to tackle another day. I was even getting to spend more time with my girl...even if was in 30 minute bursts. But they were good bursts and they left me feeling fulfilled. And then somewhere around the middle of the month, everything just collapsed. A black cloud of negativity blew in and totally took over my airspace. I was angry. I didn't want to be at work. I didn't want to be around people. I was trying to find anything to occupy my time to help me get the negative thoughts out of my head. The book I was enjoying quickly became boring. I watched a couple of good films, and instead of being motivated, inspired and buzzed...I was left with an empty, echo like feeling reverberating in my head. Sleep became impossible. My internal clock got all messed up, and soon I was twisting and turning like you wouldn't believe all night, every night. Falling asleep at 8:00 in the morning...waking up to go to work...being grumpy, irritable, unfriendly, and just altogether unpleasant most of the time. I'd get home and instead of trying to force myself to sleep, I'd stay up doing nonsense. Social media became my enemy. Contact with friends dried up. It was as if a light switch had been flipped and I found myself in a deep, dark hole in another skin. An angry skin.
So, in essence, August was a disaster. Especially considering the good path I was on to start the month. Who's to say what derailed me? Was it the visit with relatives? Trying too hard to force good feelings out of me resulting in an internal negativity backlash to counteract the mock happiness I was concocting? Or was I just working too many hours and it all caught up to me? My schedule is truly disgusting for a normal human being. But I'm not normal, so I guess I figure I can get away with it. For a while I was. I was in a groove. And then I crashed. Hard.
So here I am, frustrated, tired, antsy...and hoping to take the lessons learned last month and apply them to the next 30 (29) days. Today wasn't a good day or a bad day. I was in a bad mood, but I fought through it. I didn't have to work, so that helped. I ate a home cooked meal, so that helped. I laughed a couple of times...but as I sit and attempt to find the words to describe how I'm feeling at this particular moment, all I can think of is the frustration, resentment, anger, regret, anxiety and fucking ache that I'm feeling. There's a hole the size of a basketball right in the center of me right now...and it's filled with nothing. Empty, itchy space. I've had headphones glued to my ears for hours trying to sooth the savage beast...but all it does is make me long for simpler times. Times when the music actually worked and inspired a better feeling. Now it feels like a distraction. A haunting from a long ago past. One that feels out of reach...just like whatever future tomorrow is supposed to bring.
The loneliness doesn't help either. Neither do the constant questions. The back and forth of should I/shouldn't I? The constant fucking questions repeating over and over in my sore, tired brain. If only I could turn it all off. A week of silence. A month. That'd be bliss at this point. But no matter how hard I try, or don't try, the same old song finds its way back between my ears and takes over. I'm not so young anymore. I'm not respected. I'm not anything. I've got no money. No girl. No real, real friends. Everything in my life seems to have a glossy, manufactured coat of fraud all over it. Look close enough and you see where the dents and scratched are painted over. Holes patched up with bubbles, ready to burst at the first opportunity. I don't believe anything anymore. It's like my life has become some scripted sitcom where I don't know what's coming next, but I know it isn't real. A sparsely cast un-reality show staring someone resembling me. But it's not me.
I really don't have it that bad, which is the worst part. I've got a roof over my head. Two jobs I don't hatehate. Parents who give a shit...even if it is often misplaced giving. I should be content, I really should. I shouldn't let the shit get to me. The fact that she's leaving? So what? The fact that I've got nothing I'm passionate about? Boo fucking hoo. I'm not sick. I'm not disabled in any major way. So I spend a lot of time alone? I know plenty of people who'd kill for a few days to themselves. I'm trying to put a positive spin on it all, I am. I want to rise above my circumstance and enjoy life. My life. But then the music starts playing again...the sleepless nights hit and I'm back to being a miserable fuck who couldn't have fun if $100,000 fell into my lap.
It's probably why I used to drink too much when I was younger. It's probably why tried a lot of drugs when drinking started to suck. Why I've been constantly trying to numb myself for the past 15 years...hoping that something would come along to snap me out of it and pull me out of the tar pit. I've had some near misses...and a some false starts...which only seem to enhance the despair when I finally realize they're just that...fallacies. Lies. Tricks. Then I get angry, take my ball and go inside. Only, things get even worse when I close the door behind me. The darkness swirls. The mud sticks to my skin like sweat that you can't wash off no matter how many times you splash your face with water. A thin film of shitty all over my existence.
So, as you can see, I'm not exactly starting this month off in the right frame of mind. It's all negative right now. I've got work tomorrow and I can already feel this night stretching into the early sunlit hours...dragging me, kicking and moaning along with it. I popped a bunch of pills last night, random ones, just to feel something else...to try and trick myself to sleep. It worked, unfortunately, setting a very dangerous precedent. That tall glass of water and bathroom cabinet are literally calling out to me right now. It worked last night. Remember? Back to the well. Only I know where that well leads. And when it dries up around day 4, then I'm in too deep to climb back out. Then I'm searching for the next quick fix. And there's only one place to go for that...and that's further down the well.
I'm honestly getting tired of all of this. All of it. Everything. It's old now. Boring. I've run out of things to say and do to combat it. I've got no more tricks up my sleeve. No more safe ports of call. It all feels like enemy territory now. I reach out now, and pull back before anyone can even reach back. Why? Just because. I don't trust it anymore. Familiar hands and voices ring false and hollow. A temporary distraction. I hear them, and feel them, but I really don't. I'm thinking about having to crawl back under my rock and how I'll forget everything I just heard and felt because I don't believe it. I don't think anyone or anything is truly beyond help...but I know what it feels like to really believe that. I'm hovering over bottom...my toes inches from the floor. Only, I know it's not really bottom...it's just today's bottom.
I don't know what this is...why I'm doing this. I really don't want anyone to read this. And yet, I feel some kind of pull to exhaling all over my blog like some big ugly, call-for-help sigh that people do when they want you to talk to them...you know the one. I hate it when people do that. And yet, here I am, kind of doing the same thing virtually. Is anyone there? Oh, I don't care if there is...but is there? Pathetic.
I guess it's back to the bottles for one more night...cause I'm not doing this for the next seven hours.
The month that just was was supposed to be a month of growth. A month of change. A new direction. A new beginning. It started well. I could feel the winds of change blowing at my back, pushing me forward. I could feel the positivity manifesting itself in the little things that make up the whole. Work was going well. I was finding things to do in my off hours that kept me busy and engaged. I was sleeping well, waking up refreshed and ready to tackle another day. I was even getting to spend more time with my girl...even if was in 30 minute bursts. But they were good bursts and they left me feeling fulfilled. And then somewhere around the middle of the month, everything just collapsed. A black cloud of negativity blew in and totally took over my airspace. I was angry. I didn't want to be at work. I didn't want to be around people. I was trying to find anything to occupy my time to help me get the negative thoughts out of my head. The book I was enjoying quickly became boring. I watched a couple of good films, and instead of being motivated, inspired and buzzed...I was left with an empty, echo like feeling reverberating in my head. Sleep became impossible. My internal clock got all messed up, and soon I was twisting and turning like you wouldn't believe all night, every night. Falling asleep at 8:00 in the morning...waking up to go to work...being grumpy, irritable, unfriendly, and just altogether unpleasant most of the time. I'd get home and instead of trying to force myself to sleep, I'd stay up doing nonsense. Social media became my enemy. Contact with friends dried up. It was as if a light switch had been flipped and I found myself in a deep, dark hole in another skin. An angry skin.
So, in essence, August was a disaster. Especially considering the good path I was on to start the month. Who's to say what derailed me? Was it the visit with relatives? Trying too hard to force good feelings out of me resulting in an internal negativity backlash to counteract the mock happiness I was concocting? Or was I just working too many hours and it all caught up to me? My schedule is truly disgusting for a normal human being. But I'm not normal, so I guess I figure I can get away with it. For a while I was. I was in a groove. And then I crashed. Hard.
So here I am, frustrated, tired, antsy...and hoping to take the lessons learned last month and apply them to the next 30 (29) days. Today wasn't a good day or a bad day. I was in a bad mood, but I fought through it. I didn't have to work, so that helped. I ate a home cooked meal, so that helped. I laughed a couple of times...but as I sit and attempt to find the words to describe how I'm feeling at this particular moment, all I can think of is the frustration, resentment, anger, regret, anxiety and fucking ache that I'm feeling. There's a hole the size of a basketball right in the center of me right now...and it's filled with nothing. Empty, itchy space. I've had headphones glued to my ears for hours trying to sooth the savage beast...but all it does is make me long for simpler times. Times when the music actually worked and inspired a better feeling. Now it feels like a distraction. A haunting from a long ago past. One that feels out of reach...just like whatever future tomorrow is supposed to bring.
The loneliness doesn't help either. Neither do the constant questions. The back and forth of should I/shouldn't I? The constant fucking questions repeating over and over in my sore, tired brain. If only I could turn it all off. A week of silence. A month. That'd be bliss at this point. But no matter how hard I try, or don't try, the same old song finds its way back between my ears and takes over. I'm not so young anymore. I'm not respected. I'm not anything. I've got no money. No girl. No real, real friends. Everything in my life seems to have a glossy, manufactured coat of fraud all over it. Look close enough and you see where the dents and scratched are painted over. Holes patched up with bubbles, ready to burst at the first opportunity. I don't believe anything anymore. It's like my life has become some scripted sitcom where I don't know what's coming next, but I know it isn't real. A sparsely cast un-reality show staring someone resembling me. But it's not me.
I really don't have it that bad, which is the worst part. I've got a roof over my head. Two jobs I don't hatehate. Parents who give a shit...even if it is often misplaced giving. I should be content, I really should. I shouldn't let the shit get to me. The fact that she's leaving? So what? The fact that I've got nothing I'm passionate about? Boo fucking hoo. I'm not sick. I'm not disabled in any major way. So I spend a lot of time alone? I know plenty of people who'd kill for a few days to themselves. I'm trying to put a positive spin on it all, I am. I want to rise above my circumstance and enjoy life. My life. But then the music starts playing again...the sleepless nights hit and I'm back to being a miserable fuck who couldn't have fun if $100,000 fell into my lap.
It's probably why I used to drink too much when I was younger. It's probably why tried a lot of drugs when drinking started to suck. Why I've been constantly trying to numb myself for the past 15 years...hoping that something would come along to snap me out of it and pull me out of the tar pit. I've had some near misses...and a some false starts...which only seem to enhance the despair when I finally realize they're just that...fallacies. Lies. Tricks. Then I get angry, take my ball and go inside. Only, things get even worse when I close the door behind me. The darkness swirls. The mud sticks to my skin like sweat that you can't wash off no matter how many times you splash your face with water. A thin film of shitty all over my existence.
So, as you can see, I'm not exactly starting this month off in the right frame of mind. It's all negative right now. I've got work tomorrow and I can already feel this night stretching into the early sunlit hours...dragging me, kicking and moaning along with it. I popped a bunch of pills last night, random ones, just to feel something else...to try and trick myself to sleep. It worked, unfortunately, setting a very dangerous precedent. That tall glass of water and bathroom cabinet are literally calling out to me right now. It worked last night. Remember? Back to the well. Only I know where that well leads. And when it dries up around day 4, then I'm in too deep to climb back out. Then I'm searching for the next quick fix. And there's only one place to go for that...and that's further down the well.
I'm honestly getting tired of all of this. All of it. Everything. It's old now. Boring. I've run out of things to say and do to combat it. I've got no more tricks up my sleeve. No more safe ports of call. It all feels like enemy territory now. I reach out now, and pull back before anyone can even reach back. Why? Just because. I don't trust it anymore. Familiar hands and voices ring false and hollow. A temporary distraction. I hear them, and feel them, but I really don't. I'm thinking about having to crawl back under my rock and how I'll forget everything I just heard and felt because I don't believe it. I don't think anyone or anything is truly beyond help...but I know what it feels like to really believe that. I'm hovering over bottom...my toes inches from the floor. Only, I know it's not really bottom...it's just today's bottom.
I don't know what this is...why I'm doing this. I really don't want anyone to read this. And yet, I feel some kind of pull to exhaling all over my blog like some big ugly, call-for-help sigh that people do when they want you to talk to them...you know the one. I hate it when people do that. And yet, here I am, kind of doing the same thing virtually. Is anyone there? Oh, I don't care if there is...but is there? Pathetic.
I guess it's back to the bottles for one more night...cause I'm not doing this for the next seven hours.
posted by neil at 3:27 AM
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