a morning, a maiden
Hello again, insomnia. I see you didn't actually leave altogether, despite my attempts to hold you off with drugs and a sensible(ish) bedtime. (On Monday night, I didn't even really bother to get to bed until midnight, and then did not sleep much at all for the entire night... again, despite drugs.) I did sleep last night, though; lovely, deep, blissful sleep that lasted a solid 5 hours before I woke up, thirsty, then burning hot, and then feeling somehow as though earthquakes were happening, and if there were to be more and stronger aftershocks.
Then I got to thinking, and that was pretty much it. Might as well cut my losses and get up, make the most of an early morning. Might as well take the opportunity to get some of these circling thoughts out of my head, since they will not allow me to sleep.
The sunset was gorgeous last night - like an immense red spotlight shining down Hawthorne. I tried to describe it to people, but they had more important things on their mind. I release my feelings of frustration towards them. My observations are simply not very important to others right now. That's all right; they are important to me. I share them; if they drop like stones and sink without a trace, they still exist; the beauty could not, in that case, be shared.
There's a lot of that going on right now, what with the ideas for the next book/set of short stories/whatever burning like a long line of incense, leading me around corner after corner, finding treasure everywhere I go; I want to share this, but at the moment nobody but me can see it. I have to build that fairytale castle, brick by bloody brick, and when I'm close to done, some may see it. Some may never find it beautiful, even when I'm finished. I have to do it, though, and I must not feel that it's less important or less beautiful even if others reject it. They've got their own thing going on.
But more of the subject of beauty... for the enjoyments of witwitherwilt's birthday, we went to local joint The Maiden for dinner and drinks. I had never been to the Maiden before, and in fact, had no idea it existed, even though it's in a neighborhood I used to live in, and even afterward frequently was over there. It's a bit swanky, but not forbiddingly so. The waitstaff are smart, gorgeous, and easygoing; the food is amazing. And most nights, they have live music in the form of a gypsy jazz trio. This brings out a small legion of swing-dancing fanatics - obviously a group of folks who all take classes together, or something similar. The Maiden is across the street from the headquarters of the Oregon Ballet Theater, so the impossibly slim, lithe, dextrous bodies on display make a lot of sense. And those kids (most of 'em; some of them much older, thickset men in their 60s or so) can seriously swing. We watched them with awe, appreciation, and naked envy. And it was too beautiful for me. My heart hurt terribly, and my loneliness was splayed out bleeding all over the table. I tried to keep it to myself - nobody likes a whiny fifth wheel, for that is what I once again was last night - but I fell apart a little bit, anyway.
I want certain things, and I'm not sure how to get them. I concentrate on the things I know how to do - writing, observing media, working, sleeping - but those things are getting me no closer to the other things that I want to do and to have. I need a new way of life, and that sucks, because I like this one just fine - with one caveat. I am having serious problems with a desire for, and the difficulty of, intimacy. This is true for everyone, apparently; I'm not alone in this. But I have a harder time than many. And what I'd like to do to try to change that - attend therapy specifically focusing on why I can't seem to get that together - is stymied by my lack of being able to afford it, and the difficulty of even obtaining credit to pay for it a different way. My entire life has been set up to avoid hurting other people, and to avoid debt; apparently that's a perfect recipe for total isolation and an inability to ever move or grow. I don't want to hurt people and I don't want to owe people money. But not only do I have to do both, but I've got to figure out HOW. (A secured credit card needs a lot of money down, which I don't currently have. So more saving is required. I suppose I have to turn to the yuck factor of online dating, in which I am sure to reject 98% of the people I see - that is, if I have the interpersonal skills not to misinterpret disinterested kindness as affection, which has been my problem thus far, and keeps me from ever attempting to date anyone, since I can't tell if someone really likes me, and the fastest way to guarantee that they DON'T is by flat-out asking them if they do.)
I really, really wish I had some help. I don't even know where to begin; who to ask, how to ask, how to make it worth someone's while to help.
I'm just so sorry. I'm so disappointed in myself, in my life. All my strategies, all my morals, my much-vaunted moral code, have cut me off from the world. I want to have feelings other than this crushing sadness, this guilt, this anger. These are the emotions that drive other people away, and keep new people from wanting to take a chance on getting to know me. I don't know what to do with these feelings. Feel them? And let them go? But they overwhelm me. And I do have to go to work eventually, and I can't just sit there crying the whole time. I have to feel the feelings and then also set them aside. They are not me; there's more to me than that. Even if, right now, that's all I can see.
This is life after Paxil. I decided I'd own my pain and loneliness, to not live in fear of it anymore. Here it is. And it hurts, and I'm scared. I'm trying not to see it as a loss; this isn't a game or a competition that I win or lose. It's just how it is.
Maybe I'll go get a coffee. (But I also really want to watch Heroes again. Eh; if I get home early enough, I'll watch it before tonight's Glee. TV is in official smorgasbord mode now; choices have to be made. Glee is a hip cultural phenomenon; can I get away with watching it on Saturday mornings, time-shifted? I would accept that of myself.)
Today's emo: (and I believe, the last time I'll do this) Severe insomnia; overwhelmed with emotions both positive and negative; stiff muscles and joints, headache, dry mouth. But (amazingly so) generally all good.
Then I got to thinking, and that was pretty much it. Might as well cut my losses and get up, make the most of an early morning. Might as well take the opportunity to get some of these circling thoughts out of my head, since they will not allow me to sleep.
The sunset was gorgeous last night - like an immense red spotlight shining down Hawthorne. I tried to describe it to people, but they had more important things on their mind. I release my feelings of frustration towards them. My observations are simply not very important to others right now. That's all right; they are important to me. I share them; if they drop like stones and sink without a trace, they still exist; the beauty could not, in that case, be shared.
There's a lot of that going on right now, what with the ideas for the next book/set of short stories/whatever burning like a long line of incense, leading me around corner after corner, finding treasure everywhere I go; I want to share this, but at the moment nobody but me can see it. I have to build that fairytale castle, brick by bloody brick, and when I'm close to done, some may see it. Some may never find it beautiful, even when I'm finished. I have to do it, though, and I must not feel that it's less important or less beautiful even if others reject it. They've got their own thing going on.
But more of the subject of beauty... for the enjoyments of witwitherwilt's birthday, we went to local joint The Maiden for dinner and drinks. I had never been to the Maiden before, and in fact, had no idea it existed, even though it's in a neighborhood I used to live in, and even afterward frequently was over there. It's a bit swanky, but not forbiddingly so. The waitstaff are smart, gorgeous, and easygoing; the food is amazing. And most nights, they have live music in the form of a gypsy jazz trio. This brings out a small legion of swing-dancing fanatics - obviously a group of folks who all take classes together, or something similar. The Maiden is across the street from the headquarters of the Oregon Ballet Theater, so the impossibly slim, lithe, dextrous bodies on display make a lot of sense. And those kids (most of 'em; some of them much older, thickset men in their 60s or so) can seriously swing. We watched them with awe, appreciation, and naked envy. And it was too beautiful for me. My heart hurt terribly, and my loneliness was splayed out bleeding all over the table. I tried to keep it to myself - nobody likes a whiny fifth wheel, for that is what I once again was last night - but I fell apart a little bit, anyway.
I want certain things, and I'm not sure how to get them. I concentrate on the things I know how to do - writing, observing media, working, sleeping - but those things are getting me no closer to the other things that I want to do and to have. I need a new way of life, and that sucks, because I like this one just fine - with one caveat. I am having serious problems with a desire for, and the difficulty of, intimacy. This is true for everyone, apparently; I'm not alone in this. But I have a harder time than many. And what I'd like to do to try to change that - attend therapy specifically focusing on why I can't seem to get that together - is stymied by my lack of being able to afford it, and the difficulty of even obtaining credit to pay for it a different way. My entire life has been set up to avoid hurting other people, and to avoid debt; apparently that's a perfect recipe for total isolation and an inability to ever move or grow. I don't want to hurt people and I don't want to owe people money. But not only do I have to do both, but I've got to figure out HOW. (A secured credit card needs a lot of money down, which I don't currently have. So more saving is required. I suppose I have to turn to the yuck factor of online dating, in which I am sure to reject 98% of the people I see - that is, if I have the interpersonal skills not to misinterpret disinterested kindness as affection, which has been my problem thus far, and keeps me from ever attempting to date anyone, since I can't tell if someone really likes me, and the fastest way to guarantee that they DON'T is by flat-out asking them if they do.)
I really, really wish I had some help. I don't even know where to begin; who to ask, how to ask, how to make it worth someone's while to help.
I'm just so sorry. I'm so disappointed in myself, in my life. All my strategies, all my morals, my much-vaunted moral code, have cut me off from the world. I want to have feelings other than this crushing sadness, this guilt, this anger. These are the emotions that drive other people away, and keep new people from wanting to take a chance on getting to know me. I don't know what to do with these feelings. Feel them? And let them go? But they overwhelm me. And I do have to go to work eventually, and I can't just sit there crying the whole time. I have to feel the feelings and then also set them aside. They are not me; there's more to me than that. Even if, right now, that's all I can see.
This is life after Paxil. I decided I'd own my pain and loneliness, to not live in fear of it anymore. Here it is. And it hurts, and I'm scared. I'm trying not to see it as a loss; this isn't a game or a competition that I win or lose. It's just how it is.
Maybe I'll go get a coffee. (But I also really want to watch Heroes again. Eh; if I get home early enough, I'll watch it before tonight's Glee. TV is in official smorgasbord mode now; choices have to be made. Glee is a hip cultural phenomenon; can I get away with watching it on Saturday mornings, time-shifted? I would accept that of myself.)
Today's emo: (and I believe, the last time I'll do this) Severe insomnia; overwhelmed with emotions both positive and negative; stiff muscles and joints, headache, dry mouth. But (amazingly so) generally all good.