I found my Friday night devoid of activity.
There was a plan. But unexpected illness and the death of a pet has defeated the plan. 😦 I don’t want my friends to be sick or sad… Sigh
So I feel guilty for the feeling of disappointment I have at the cancelation of the evenings festivities.
Several pieces of me are saying all the uplifting good things about now I can do other stuff. Now I should do other stuff. Only I possess no ambition.
Maybe I’ll feel better after I eat.
Vaguely wandering through my field of emotions, aimless. The sky is ruddy as though the sun is to shy to rise here and only peeks over the horizon. I don’t need to see clearly anyway. My eyes as muddled as my mind
I have always sort of sucked at doing things outside my home. Even worse when I have no one to accompany me. I have said it so many times before; I really need to get better at taking on activities solo.
Only as many times as I’ve said it, my ability to take action upon it is painfully slow. Its so easy to avoid venturing out, finding much to do around home. It doesn’t help the sense of alien separation I feel when emersed in public crowds.
As if there were some sort of transparent barrier between me and the world. I watch fascinated as though they were strange animals on display. Or perhaps I am the strange animal peering from behind my eyes.
I don’t know where I was taking this, if anywhere at all. Mostly just expressing a certain amount exasperation with myself.
Today in conversation with one of then ladies I work with I realized how lucky I am. She was getting ready to move, just her and her children to a third floor apartment.
I am fortunate to own my own home.
She mentioned how moving is awful and she has no one to help.
I am also very fortunate to have wonderful friends who are would help if I needed it.
After our conversation I walked away softly whispering my thanks to the universe.
I didn’t buy beer on the way home when I stopped at the gas station.
“Don’t you cry it will give you lines around your eyes. You gotta try to not live so much of life alone. And if ya see me getting crazy by the bottom of a bottle, take me home, take me home, take me home.”
Concrete Blonde from the album Group Therapy
I worked from home last half the day. Which is good because I was a complete fucking mess. The ragey bit led to some really twisted paranoia and a few other choice despairs. I was in tears for several hours while I plugged away at my duties.
Day ended at 4:30…still hitching with sobs and the emotional sensation equivalent to suffocation I decided to give my tortoise a soak. I.e. torty bath. He watched me cry with his strange little alien reptile eyes and I eventually snuffled to a faint mist versus downpour. I dried him in a fluffy towel and observed him as he hid in the folds of the fabric for awhile.
I the played a video game for a few hours. Willing my mind blank as I killed digital critters.
All this was not quite enough to ease my terror of a brain.
So for the last two hours I have been sewing all new buttons on one of my fanciful steampunk styled blouses. All while watching some innocuous TV show in the background.
I’m exhausted. My eyes hurt.
But the paranoia has clambered back to whatever fucking sludge pit that spawns it. All things considered.
This was a win.
I hate when the mania hits all ugly black anger spiced with irrational irritability and unrestrained paranoia. ( I know people are avoiding me because I am a horrible person.) Oh for fuck sake brain, shut up.
These are the days I imagine being only two steps away from a complete suicidal/homicidal spree. OK not really but I want to fucking PUNCH, CLAW, and BITE.
Shriek madly at the sky.
But instead I will try to sit quiet, to be calm, to not cry, to not rage….