It’s a “changes are a’comin'” type day and I’m not the best at implementing change even when it’s sorely needed. Nor am I good at talking about it because that involves intimacy & vulnerability both of which scare the shit out of me.
There are few people to whom I talk with about my “real, not fun” thoughts and I often feel like I have a ticking time bomb of words just waiting to spew from my lips. So, I stay away from people. I interact safely from behind my phone screen. I don’t touch others, I can’t hear the inflection of their words, I can’t see how their faces unintentionally react to my words, whether good or bad, I can’t feel their body language, and I can’t see their feelings in their eyes.
Essentially, there is no interaction at all, except, physically, with my phone screen or keyboard.
Therefore, I withdraw even more. I over think and over think, making mountains out of mole hills. My thoughts go a little like this:
“My depression, ADHD, and my children’s behavioral issues already make my life difficult, why would I want to give that burden to someone else? Who the fuck would want it anyway? Just go to sleep. Everyone else has problems, too, so why share mine? Way more people have it worse than I do, so suck it up and stop being a cry baby. Just go to sleep. Just ignore it and everything will be okay. Just stay funny or stay quiet because all your other thoughts are too depressing and no one likes the emo kid. Way more people have it worse than you stop being a fucking bitch ass baby and suck it up. Just go to sleep and when you wake up act like everything is fine. You don’t need help. You don’t need people. You got this. You’re good. Just stop being a whiner because plenty of people have it way worse and you’re handling your shit.”
And on and on endlessly. It’s a never-ending barrage of self depreciating word vomit. Even when I practice positive self talk there is always a doubtful heckler in the back of my mind wondering how long this good shit is going to last, how long until I quit and go back to the comfort of being sad (thanks Kurt) like I always do? How long until something tips the scales and I don’t want to shower, or eat, or get out of bed? How long can I go without actually talking to someone and telling them the honest fucking truth about myself? How long can I be lonely? How far away can I push the people I love most?
How can I, with a straight face, say, “I’m fucked up and I don’t like being this way, but I don’t care enough to work on changing because nothing really fucking matters”?
Oh, that hurt to say, even to myself, because that’s truly how I feel.
I hate days like today. Days where I have epiphanies and see myself without the usual fog of negative self talk and ennui. I hate days where I wake up enough to see that I’m coasting along in a fog of shit talking, that I’m functioning on an automatic level.
I hate days where I realize that everyone I’ve ever opened up to about my real self has told me to “snap out of it” or something similar, as if feeling like this is a choice I’ve made. So, I’ve learned not to open up, that people perceive my funny and sarcastic and weird words better than any real thoughts and feelings I’ve ever shared.
But, I’ve said enough. I’ve opened up enough. I’m tired and purged but my head doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode anymore. Thank you for that.