Oct 29, 2009 05:29
Out in the wastelands of the 2-to-11 anonymity surround by a vast metropolitan area, it's easy for the taste to drain out of life and leave behind only bitterness.
I am not proud of how I am holding up out here. Back when I was unemployed and supposedly "dangerously unbalanced" i was much much saner. It's very true what they say: modern life drives you crazy.
But I am yolked now. Bills to pay and the like, and I've become infected with a rabid case of catchupidness. I didn't used to worry about falling behind so much. I didn't fit in the rat race, I knew I wasn't in the wrong, and I reveled in my outsider status. Maybe because I am getting older, or because of the insanity of society has taken hold, or because of my stint in the mainstream mental health juggernaut. All I know if that I am intensely conflicted and unhappy. I think about the unthinkable way too often, and I know it's foolish, but sometimes standing on the train platform as the train comes barreling in I think about it... but then I would miss the last-second rescue I hope is coming for my life.
Slogging through a head full of misshapen thoughts is hard; slogging through without a confidante to talk it over with is hardest. A therapist is a poor substitute for a friend, especially when she keeps tossing out therapist witticisms like "so what i hear you say is..." and "well, let's hold those feelings together." Kind of hard to take any of our many hours together seriously, deep down I know this is like pulling a band-aid off slowly and just prolongs the hurt, but it's either this or chew myself up to little bits. Because I don't have internal regulators anymore. I jump to painful conclusions about things. I suffer through avalances of self doubt. I grind my teeth at night and dream twisted versions of the worst-est hits of my life. I need to unload it somewhere, preferably where I will get reassurances and not a lot of flack. But maybe some well-worded flack would be helpful? That's what good friends are for. Of which I have none.
So another day begins way too early because the walls and floors of my apartment are paper-thin and I don't sleep well. Day four of my weekly internment in my office coffin, but the I'm off tomorrow, and then there is Halloween where I can pretend that I'm not already dead.