There are moments that I go without even speaking to people much less putting words on page behind meaning and yet there are moments where almost in a fever pitch I'm able to spew out words with meaning with innuendo with intent to cause some chaotic spark of thought that is outside the daily does of mind numbing crap.
Being in the middle of the two poles, I find if hard to even keep what I've written here. I'm very sure it's not going to inspire or provoke thought. Yet I know I have a thought within that needs to see the light of day yet somehow the time is wrong, the mood is not there, or I haven't groked it long enough to fully pull out meaning. And yet, considering that I use my writing as means to balance my thoughts it can be....ickish....is there a word for intellectual blue balls?
Blue Mind?
Odd.
Well, as of now I'm once again trying to rebalance my life by trying to fight my weight gain, depression, looking for a full time legitimate line of work, and figuring out how soon I can move out of a place that, from what I'm told a toxic environment. It's all too easy to slump down and simply close your eyes and let....time...slip....by.....
So I get up despite of not having enough sleep. I weigh myself and check my body fat percentage and calculate how many calories and macro nutrients. I log what I eat, how much water I take in, and calculate my run times, caloric expenditure and any other value I can find out of what data I can gather. I look throughout the Internet and attempt to fill in applications, resumes with cover letters and reference lists. I try to take a nap when able, but not enough to lose hours of time, even though it's what I have. I go outside to work out, lift and keep active. If I have time left over I watch youtube as some would watch tv. If there's time to kill I get on a game and kill some hours of time. IF I have a book I read just enough as one would ration water knowing that my library card has been revoke by the kindness of others and getting hold of thought provoking books are rare. I'm always on wiki .
I can imagine that this existence, this limbo is how I would imagine prison yet with more violence or at times much less. Being around volatile people is nerve wracking. A snide comment said by one person can equate to days of hell. One person's outbursts can chain react. My only rule here to others is to not set off the megaton bomb in the room. I have my moments and I have to walk away knowing that toxic places pull you in by means lower then any enemy can pull. I've had good days where I pull away, bad days where I get pulled in and feel ashamed of myself for being foolish, and I have my rare days that kill me knowing that I am better and yet I gave into a chaotic and destructive nature.
And people wonder why I know how to get away from crazy. People with solid advice have either escaped their hells or are fighting them at the moment. I'm the later. People who negate "no" for any reason. Anyone who makes you feel less then who you are. Any one who gaslight, is verbally or physically abusive when they lack a decent verbal IQ to discuss and even debate. People who emotionally leech, want you to rebuild them making your their monkey wrench only to return to abusive means, anyone who has ever thrown any object towards you.
Hell. Abuse is hell. It's harder to escape it. There comes a point where your own being will work against you. Self sabotage, fighting low self esteem, trying to keep momentum and remaining positive are all part of it.
......funny......didn't feel like writing at all. Still don't know where it's going either. Still don't know if this will be posted.
Life is tough.......my life is tough. I'm going to try to not to speak in the third person. I'm told when I speak of myself I regress into a monotone and become distant. It's a mechanism from what I'm told is frightening as hell to watch. So....no third person.
*clear throat* My life IS tough. And it's stupid at the same time. I think of it was pulling myself out of quicksand. I know how to do it, I'm learning new methods to do so also, yet it's time consuming, tiring, and from what I'm told one of the hardest things to do. When your very effort works against you and doing nothing is death. I hear many people tell me they love me, they're behind me, that they are in any way willing to help me. I'm here trying not to pull anyone else in while trying to tread myself above. I more then understand that I have to reach a certain people in order to break free of mental shackles that hold be down, yet getting there is hard. I know what should be done. The practise is difficult, painful, and often times meaningless.
It's why they say that the best support you can give someone depressed is to just sit there, maybe make them into a burrito and just sit there. It's nothing you can do to fix them. You presence can be damaging, but if you just sit and say you understand its the most amazing thing. The person does not need to hide it and they can simply be.
Saying this I have an amazing support network. I have great friends. I've been told that I can equate my value to that of the caliber of my friends. I would like to believe that. Then again I would love to be functional and not be in this situation to start. So I know, but often time I do not understand.
It's like when I'm told that I've loved. I understand the words. I know the meaning. I more then believe that my closest friends mean the words, that they have meaning. I just don't feel anything. Was it because I've been in so many types of toxic relationships? Can it be that they loved me also and yet that love was painful, harmful, and destructive in their different ways. One person was physically abusive. Other mentally. One negated my own feelings and made me feel used. Others negated the word 'no' and others just took me along their own insanity. I have a type and its crazy, needy, hurtful. I didn't choose it. I didn't want it, but it's a clear pattern. Being celibate now for 9 years I can see that my life is a lot more livable when not in the trunk of a car or stalked.
So....therapy. I'm told people see changes. That I've made immense advancements in the 8 months I've been going. That I am more then willing to tear myself apart and pull whatever poisons me. That I know have a mindset that limits me, imposed by me, and that I will never be happy until I fully dismantle it. It sounds good. As if I can walk over to a pipe and just turn a valve and everything will be kudos.
How I wish.
How I wish to be normal. I've a boring person really, yet I am a product of my environment. I do not trust easily. I consider my needs least if not important. I question myself more times then anyone else. I'm an introvert, pessimist, sarcastic, and yet I'm told I'm honestly not. I have a 'dark humor' that scares everyone off. I've lived horrors that only those who have cold eyes can recognize and normal people 'can't just even'.
ha ha ha....I was actually told I made someone go on antidepressants because I told them a part of my life.
Part. As in, "I was divorced by 21" part.
Saying all of this, I try to be positive. I try to be functional. I balance my life and try to gain momentum as a child would learn to walk. I fall alot. I fail alot. I curl up into a ball alot. I don't cry. I don't know how to anymore. Yet, I get back up and try again.
Why?
Because three years ago I should have taken my life. And yet, time shows that things change. Sometimes you just have to endure fucking hell as hard as it is, yet the moment you get your chance you will jump and run for it even if jump and run is really collapse and drag. Yet that fucking drag.....that pain.....pain is life....you have a fighting chance. Scream it. Yell it. Write it on the walls. Make as much noise as possible. Don't let it drag your down. It will and you should fight. You should make your escape the most explosive moment you can.......because if you don't you pass in silence. You pass in silence and mystery and no one around you will know what you suffered.
So I screamed. I told everyone. I told those closest to me I was suicidal. I was fighting a fight that I was losing. And they pulled me in. They held me close and told me they loved me, even though I say now I can not feel it. It didn't matter. They came. They came.
I love my friends. One day I'll feel it, but I know I do. I guess I do.
My life is tough. I'm doing what I can to be functional. To be strong, confident, and progressive and proactive. I have my bad days. I have my worse days. I have days that I wonder how will I ever continue from that point. Oddly enough, my life has ended numerous times. And yet, there is tomorrow. Just the promise of tomorrow.....is enough. At least for now, it's more then enough.
Shit today. Better tomorrow.
If I have to go, let it take me. I refuse to do it's fucking work. If I'm not meant to wake in the morning then let it take me. I will not make it's job any easier. I refuse to. So today if hard. I'll eat my caloric need and workout. Work on cover letters and job opportunity. Write when I don't feel like it. Roll up into a ball. And start it all over again tomorrow.
Life is tough. My life is tough.
I'm tough too.
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