Madman, heal thyself
I had a little attack of crazy earlier tonight (no other way to describe it). I could practically feel myself pinching my nose and toes-first diving into the narrow channel of bonkersville...so weird. My perception's up, but my control is still wobbly as fuck. I sort of rescued myself from it, but not before a stricken visit to the grocery store, where a sexy couple kinda cruised me which threw me off the deep end. It's funny (and by funny I mean not at all amusing) how since I've been decreasing the crazy in other life areas, this one area (men/attraction/romance) has become an absolute minefield, tripwires every two inches, an absolute black hole. The idea of dating, flirting, etc is immediately brickwalled into ICANTICANTICANT. The mere notion of "possibly getting hurt" (emphasis on "possibly") is like the Scream mask outside the window, the dead people walking wet-footed in the hallway, cliche cliche cliche but FUCK. Scary. Why? Rationally I know It Can't Be That Bad - and besides which, protecting yourself from living is actually not living -- which is why I so much feel like the Other, the Non. At the end of the day I can't (or I don't) believe that someone could want something from me without wanting some other unnamed, intangible thing that I either don't have or can't give. It's embarrassing to admit this but true. I see couples all around me and I want them to tell me the Secret, how did you do it, how did you overcome this, how did you get past the fear and allow it to happen? Maybe they don't have the Fear. But some people must have the Fear, right? I mean, I know they do.
All of which washes me up in the same pebbled shore of Crazydom. Sigh. Sometimes I think I like therapy too much. It's easier to do than live. Nudge nudge nudge. I'm getting there. It's just taking FORFUCKINGEVER.
I guess I should focus on the positive, which is that I sorta came back from the crazy hole all by myself (sort of), with a minimum of talking to myself in the car, etc. Even when the cashier lady looked at me quizzically and asked, 'Are you ALRIGHT?', I was able to dissociate enough not to think it meant She Could Tell, but probably just cuz I was acting so fucking spacy. That couple actually SCARED me, I was literally afraid. Of what?
I roam around with the business in my head, it NEVER stops, it never lets up, and it's so fucking loud, what's that you said? Did you say something? I didn't even hear it, I'm sailing right by without hearing or seeing, I'm invisible and Non.
OK, I realize this doesn't sound like I conquered the crazy tonight at all - it sounds like I'm still down there in it. Which, I guess, I sorta am - but cushioned & distanced, a little tourniquet to staunch the blood jet. That's all I can do for now -- triage, until the calvary rides in or the sun comes up and I can take a little breath. Maybe SSRIs are back on the table. Maybe Maybe Maybe.
It's not ego to say there's a whole mammoth universe going on inside - but how can I get out of it? Does God ever look away, get distracted, go watch the game?
Fingers crossed, ladies. Maybe this is headed somewhere.
All of which washes me up in the same pebbled shore of Crazydom. Sigh. Sometimes I think I like therapy too much. It's easier to do than live. Nudge nudge nudge. I'm getting there. It's just taking FORFUCKINGEVER.
I guess I should focus on the positive, which is that I sorta came back from the crazy hole all by myself (sort of), with a minimum of talking to myself in the car, etc. Even when the cashier lady looked at me quizzically and asked, 'Are you ALRIGHT?', I was able to dissociate enough not to think it meant She Could Tell, but probably just cuz I was acting so fucking spacy. That couple actually SCARED me, I was literally afraid. Of what?
I roam around with the business in my head, it NEVER stops, it never lets up, and it's so fucking loud, what's that you said? Did you say something? I didn't even hear it, I'm sailing right by without hearing or seeing, I'm invisible and Non.
OK, I realize this doesn't sound like I conquered the crazy tonight at all - it sounds like I'm still down there in it. Which, I guess, I sorta am - but cushioned & distanced, a little tourniquet to staunch the blood jet. That's all I can do for now -- triage, until the calvary rides in or the sun comes up and I can take a little breath. Maybe SSRIs are back on the table. Maybe Maybe Maybe.
It's not ego to say there's a whole mammoth universe going on inside - but how can I get out of it? Does God ever look away, get distracted, go watch the game?
Fingers crossed, ladies. Maybe this is headed somewhere.