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[23 Aug 2003|11:34am] |
It's not about finding something worth getting all worked up about after all; it's about keeping these barriers that we've accumulated from rising up in the first place...
We're all so sick of being fucked with, we'd rather just zen out in our peaceful silver detachment, idly pushing the pieces and encounters of our daily life together like a scrapbook that will end in a flourish, revealing the Big Secret of Life, sighing in overt humility.
In middle and high school, we were all hyper and dramatic, full of gossip and unspent energy; so why aren't we now? We're too cool, too distrustful, too bored, too hurt, too jaded, and we're sure that whatever it is will blow up in our faces and make us a fool. And it makes life decidedly less fun. And secures our place in society as wise and practical grown-ups, somehow, so we condition ourselves to strive for this apathetic fortitude.
But there must have been a time, somewhere, where we successfully balanced the two extremes, or rather, we were only halfway to our current state of cool depersonalization; when the joy and of childhood was expounded by the guarded distance from the here-and-now. I can't help but wonder if it might be possible to reopen that channel of will to force the same balance- or if the results might be significantly different, knowing the other end of the scale.
But I imagine that couild be said about many things.
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[22 May 2003|10:48am] |
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He who has never quit has not learned perserverance.
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[21 Apr 2003|01:36pm] |
...To lose touch with the vertical is to lose purpose. This loss of verticality contributes to self-trivialization. Our lives are squandered in meaningless pursuits that disperse vital energies, not to mention the knowledge of what is most essential to our lives. Loss of vertical stability also results from the fixation of attention onto random ideas and images while losing context, a connection with the realities those images supposedly represent — eating the menu instead of the meal. On the other extreme, those who lose horizontal connection can suffer profound alienation and suicidal tendencies from a breakdown of human community, or common-unity; isolated, we grow brittle, wither away inwardly and slowly go mad from sheer loneliness.
Paratheatrical research work aims to develop ritual forms for restoring verticality as a basis for relating with the horizontal world of others from a fierce stance of personal integrity and autonomy. To work as a group towards this end is very challenging; to live your life this way is almost impossible: it is miraculous. To fully participate in the “resurgence of the miraculous” one must embrace a kind of double vision —one eye to the vertical, another to the horizontal — and proceed accordingly. Instigating a vertical value into a group runs against the grain of social expectations. Most gatherings offer socially-accepted (horizontal) promises. Our most common social rewards promise entertainment, intellectual stimulus, emotional support, ego status, and courtship potential.
When these social motives are bypassed and then replaced by more austere asocial intentions (such as Source relations and No-Form), our more social incentives collapse; there’s nowhere for them to go. In its initial stages, asocial reasons for gathering together require from each individual a certain non-responsibility to others. At first, this can act as a kind of anxiety-producing social shock, until we are assured of its long term value for building higher levels of human interaction; “higher” means anything that supports a deepening of individual integrity and a heightening individual and group autonomy during all horizontal interaction...
~Antero Alli
"Paratheatrical Research"
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[22 Sep 2002|09:14am] |
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composed my two-weeks' notice, and will be posting it today, after having had my "steady, stable" schedule suddenly changed again with a day's notice, causing me to have to call in on another job, and two social events. After much deliberation, I decided NOT to call in, but to go to work instead, having not gotten to launder my uniform, and simply resign. High-fuckin'-time.
Best I've felt about anything in a very long time.
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| Time to update. |
[19 Sep 2002|01:45pm] |
So, yeah, lot of shit been happening within the framework of nothing getting done.
Okay... I know all of this sounds crazy... and well---
It is. I am. We are. Everything is.
Where to start?? How about the top?
"If not bipolar..."
I mentioned a while back that my last shrink mentioned ADD in passing and I shrugged it off because I was an A student in grammar school and an obedient, polite kid. Done some reading, and learning more, like that mood lability and drastic mood swings are hallmark signs of ADD, as well as HYPERfocus, alternating with inattention... lost in a thousand thoughts, and snapping back like fucking lightning, locking into people's eyes during a discussion I can't afford to miss... Got mom to dig out old report cards from gradeschool, and while the grades are perfect (I loved tests... go figure!), all the comments are: Pleasure to have in class; work needs to be in on time, projects not turned in, needs to bring supplies to class, work on procrastination, inconsistency in work hinders steady progress, daydreaming, misses homework, continues having difficulties with organization and time management....
Okay... I put up a good front, but I go with the flow more than I'd like to admit; and when you're in 7th grade and desperate for a reason to not be suck a fucking alien and too different to ever make it in this world, you'll jump on whatever bandwagon that's willing to rescue you... Depressed, yes. Manic? Well... Panicky about time passing, unreachable goals, people leaving, dying, getting older, ruining a good family name... panicked about anything and everything you ever have been, and finally ready to give it all up and just die--- but there's always that last resort... Flail, and flail like a goddamn fucking fish in a hot pan, despite what you've been taught, told, trained, and how ladylike you're supposed to conduct yourself... Nothing was really any different, just reaching the last strand at the end of the rope, and it was either swing or let go. And if they wanted to call it bipolar, so be it. If there was a name and a cure, Fuckin' A!! They could have told me I had AIDS, and I would have agreed to anything they said.... And that flailing feeling is what I've been taught to recognize as "mania".
Imagine if you were told that a circle was called a square... You'd still think "square" while looking at a circle; what if I've just accepted the word Manic for this closed in, bound feeling, and nobody would ever think to question it, because when you start up with a new pdoc, s/he looks at your chart, says,"hmm, bipolar. here's some lithium... now how are you today?" And at 12, I was more likely to nod to anything someone asked out of fear of giving a wrong answer... By the time I was in high school, the energy was just on and off- so focussed in while I was working on shows that it was like nothing else existed outside the theater or auditorium; or just honestly forgetting that I HAD a class, missing a fire drill, so "on" writing a scene...
And just - a thousand things are ringing bells, and..... this's years and years and years on every mood stabilizer available, alone and in combinations, and nothing has really come of it, except that I'm exhausted ALL the time, and I'm too tired to DO anything with this anxious energy, whether negative OR productive.... Which gets me absolutely nowhere, and the only real thing that's been *truly* helpful at all has been the Wellbutrin, which's a mild stimulant.
Not that any of this is conclusive, OR that it has to be one or the other. It's just something that really throws my life a bit askew.
And my mom hopped right on the BP train too, thrilled for an explanation for a suicidal kid too young to wear makeup- but same circle/square issue- deciding that my dad was manic-depressive too, when in retrospect, his life was a fucking wreck when he was between secretaries... Asked her why she thought he was bp, and she said, "he was just like you.." and asked her why me-"Well, the doctor said so..." Anyway, just something to think about and look into while being a good girl and meanwhile still taking these stupid pills... =^)p
Secondly... Rod? Well........... Shit, it's so not him. I just.... I can't fucking STAND it here!!!! It's so goddamn quiet, I can't walk the beach; there's nowhere to go, I've become more and more isolated because of it, and Rod and mom are telling me- Just get more friends; It's your fault you're not keeping up with all your friends..... When really, no one wants to come down here bc it's SO out of the way--- it's a 1/2 hour drive, plus the fucking cliff; and I feel like the only person on earth. And overall..... It feels like *the* paralyzing factor in my life, and nobody seems to understand that or even give a shit. Rod's just hurt whenever I try to talk about it, like it's all his fault (because he orchestrated the move down here) and it's a personal attack, and he says that if I would just get a good-paying full-time job, we could afford to live someplace else.
It's a fucking knife in the heart. I have no way of explaining how much it hurts to not be able to do that. It's not that I just DON'T FUCKING CARE!!! I *know* that if I made more money we could get a nice place someplace else--- I'm not that fucking stupid that I think money is a side issue in life. I'm just about willing to live in my car at this point. I know Rod feels just as much a victim in this as I do, but I can't seem to get ahold of the situation, and neither can he, and it's only creating imaginary problems between us as a sort of break from the same old crisis... Drives me crazy! I NEED to be around people and go do things to feel half-alive and motivated; he needs peace and quiet, so he's perfectly happy here. I don't know if there's an easy compromise...
Mom's practically advertising my name connected to "mom getting me a job", bipolar and work instability in the school district where I've been trying to get a job... have a list of **twenty-four** people who are watching me now.. waiting for me to finish up all my application shit, and I was seeing this as my opportunity, and practically ONLY opportuinity to escape Hollywood without wearing an apron and a paper hat, and now I just can't!!! I can't perform with everybody watching me like that! She keeps saying there's no pressure, but there is. There is so much more pressure there, and she's just creating more, and I just want out of this fucking city. I just need a chance to start over......
It's an escape theme lately. I just want out, and I'm about to the point that I'll take whatever means persent themselves...
I actually REALLY wanna check out New Orleans so bad I can taste it! Maybe I can road trip sometime....
AAACCKKK!!!!
God, I know it doesn't sound like it, but I'm okay... Sorta. Good days, bad days, little freakout trips, and snappin out of em. Just feel bad when Rod gets the bad end of it and he isn't able to snap out of moods so easily. THAT makes me feel like a little shit and not want to talk to him.
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[12 Sep 2002|09:39am] |
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Okay, so things aren't exactly improving as I'd hoped at work.
Though they are in a way-
I'm seeing this as Divine Intervention.
It's clear that this is not a place I was meant to be,
a healthy environment, contributory towards my goals,
nor having any positive effect other than a couple hundred bucks a month,
and I can make that whoring!
(Well, maybe with a little makeup!)
So. This is god's way of ensuring I move on.
And it's so much easier to see it that way,
and have empathy for the poor folks acting the way they do,
because they think their life and livelihood is caught up
in clerking at a video store!
I don't look down on them at all-
I've spent a year there, and now it's time to move on.
It's my turn now, and most of them will find theirs soon.
So,
thank you Lord,
for making my life hell!
=)
HA!
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[01 Sep 2002|09:24am] |
Some difficulties with myself lately....
Work is... Well, we're going thru a big overhaul, with
a new store manager and assist (neither of us who had trained for the
position, I might add), expectations of instant improvement after being
informed that the way our store was operating wasn't policy. In
this whirlwind of change, there came some doubt about whether or not I was a
part of management staff to begin with, and should my computer rights be taken away... and they were. and then given back. and then modified, and taken away again... and it's all just been a whole fucking mess. Thru the
scant records left behind, the assist was convinced that maybe I was
management overall. Sticky, but okay, right? But this whole confusion made
public has made me a fucking second class citizen. When I ask a manager
something and he's busy, he'll wave me away to "Pat's your shift
supervisor..." To add insult to injury.. You know that promotion to
Training Manager I got a few months ago? Department eliminated because
apparently **it** - not sure whether he meant the sessions or my heading the
department -would be insulting to employees.
Also, as you might remember,
I'm *not* and organized person. I'm the kind of person that works well with
a secretarial person. BECAUSE I can't BE that secretarial type person!!!!
So I've always just dug out a kind of a partner that I form a team with... And- my assistant is now assigned to opposite hours. Always and without fail.
Anyway, the New Store is all about organization and what papers go where and
when, and how quickly you can whirl around from one thing to the next and keep everything nice, neat and orderly at top speed while covering the asses of two to three other people... I sat in on a couple interviews today, (one because I've done interviews and hiring for almost ten months here, and the other, simply because I *had* to be in the office, and they were at the desk.)-- over ten minutes each were spent on questions like,"How do you remember which term paper has to be
in?", and,"So, tell me about your desk at home..." "What methods do you use to ensure that you know where every one of yourr belongings is?" (-actually, the grammar was much poorer...) And I'm getting a very clear message that I am becoming extinct.
I want to work somewhere else, but I can't seem to find something else...
Between the need for a steady schedule with certain hours, a back that's
only getting worse and prevents me from standing or sitting still too long
and lifting things, daily panic attacks, the inability to plan beyond the
next few days, if I can plan on holding off suicidal impulses that long, and
about as much physical strength as a small rodent, but lacking the quickness
or lightness... I am so fucking exhausted all the goddamn time. That in
itself is hard enough. But why the fuck would I go through the stress of
jumping headfirst into a whole new foreign environment to be running from
the same things without any allies at all? I'm really looking for a step
up, no matter how tiny... Or even a step in a different direction. But
where to from here????
God, the house's fuckin blowing up- stovetope shattered, waterheater blew a
tube, and had to replumb the house, sawdust and sand everywhere; so we've had strangers popping in whenever they want to, punching holes in floors and leaving them uncovered... Making us be up at 6 for him, and then showing up at
10:fucking:30... So the vague feeling of homelessness and uncertainty has been completed.
Bad day, week, year. Doesn't feel like anything I have a hand in will ever
turn out right or be valued. Just feel like absolute shit, and as God would
have it, it's pouring down raining. Oh, yeah. and I nearly killed myself
and two other folks in a badly thought out lil traffic incident today.
But Rod rocks. he brought home Rolling Rock and pizza. If I didn't have to
go back to the store tomorrow, I'd be cooled.
I dunno. Shit's fine. Just for some reason I'm tweakin' and just can't
stand living alla sudden. I want to throw myself on the ground and throw
the biggest fucking tantrum that the world has ever seen. And so then God
will see it and realize- Oh hey, yeah, her life's pretty f- hey!! A lotta
things on earth got real fucked up while I was dozing off!! -And he'll take
his magic wand and- poof! Everything's okay again. Nothing fancy, but
sincere needs and some good-hearted wishes too...
And then we come back to the realization that I somehow have to find the
strength to get up that hill tomorrow. I don't have the strength to lift
my arms or not shuffle my feet when I fucking walk, and so living down here
is beneficial to me HOW again?!! fuck me.
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| Generic Update |
[23 Aug 2002|11:52am] |
The 20th was the anniversary of my dad's death. Can't believe it's been a whole year. Honestly can't. Well, on one hand, I haven't gotten anywhere - but two steps forward, one step back, right? On the other, so much has happened.
I'm down 45 lbs, the interior of the beach house is done except for the plumbing, and we LIVE there (much to my chagrin). Have several songs collecting dust that are gnawing at me, and we're on our third day with no water.
Dealing with a great deal of anxiety lately, but it seems to be a trend... Some sort of midlife crisis thing going on- waking up to discover my life has been completely revolutionized without me, and I'm not quite sure where I stand anymore... Dragging out all my old school records for new shrink for ADD evaluation. No idea where that'll go...
Basically, I'm kind of unsure in everything, but really wanting to take control again, and get out of this horrible job at the video store. The best vocational resolution I can come up with is that I want to "be a ___", not "work for___". I need projects and a team and goals and a reason to be moving.
I have an appointment with that research project I'm taking part in today... But I keep feeling like I'm the exception to the rule; that too much has happened in my life and in my healthcare continuum to be a consistent, fair subject, and I kind of feel like I should be excluded for the sake of consistency... Ah well... this's the last interview, and it's all over.
I'm having problems directing my life. Like I've lost what was important to me, and it's been overshadowed by the frightening nature of being an adult, dealing with the mental health system, being married, being alive in general. Like I'm bored with this game, and I'm ready to move onto another. Maybe a change in jobs would do it. Just horribly restless and want to move on and out and over and anywhere but just standing here scratching my ass. ARGH.
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| Changing Pt. I |
[19 Aug 2002|01:22pm] |
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I see the hope.
Sort of. Rather, I want the hope and change I so need in my life.
I see the need and the desire for a mission or devotion.
I see the need for intellectual and social stimulation.
I want to pursue these both.
The trouble I run into, I'm afraid, is caused by myself and my own inability to be flexible.
Firstly, I need to feel needed, responsible, and productive. Along the same vein, I need to feel responsible in my family, and both of these could be fulfilled by finding the right job. But starting from zero is more difficult than it seems...
It's strange; something that wouldn't have occured to me- gaining back self esteem and confidence after a breakdown is really a herculean feat. The world has changed. Somehow it's like the passage of an era. During the time you don't remember, many things occured that you may never be able to truly catch up.
( More thoughts on getting over and moving on )
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| Triggering movies and such... |
[01 Aug 2002|12:27pm] |
if anyone can tell me how to link a journal, I'd be very grateful!
Read this in an entry today, and it really struck me.
My ex-girlfriend from about two years ago was pretty much the same way, she was like "I was depressed and went to psychotherapy and did prozac, but I think I should have gotten out of it on my own." and she just totally didn't understand how I could be so depressed and not know why and various other things I tried to explain to her...
It may be easy to pop a pill but the pill just helps, the problem is still there, at least for me, but it becomes more manageable. Bipolar disorder is a chemical imbalance, and its genetic, it's as real of a disease as Parkinson's or the HIV virus. It may not be caused by a virus it may just be something inside your head that you have no control over, or some control.
Also an ex-fling from about a year ago told me she was bipolar, and I was like what? no way.... and then I found out what happens, she was excellent at hiding it, being all happy and giddy around people, but when she got home she got real depressed, and the mask came off and her true self came out. and when we went to see Memento with a friend she ended up going manic afterward, but appeared to be perfectly normal, just out of touch with reality.
I know I hide really well, I am shy, and don't talk much, and when I do it is usually something important. I have set up a bunch of filters inside my head that let me know when I am going off the rails so to speak. Or as it happened awhile ago in my bed, I felt the mania come on and knew I wasn't going to be sleeping that morning unless I took about 4 benadryl.
I have to say as personally having bipolar, it is the easiet thing to hide, but the hardest thing to control....
I've been drastically triggerd by movies- actually Memento specifically, to the point of near collapse, and somehow used those filters to pass long enough to get through to a point where I could hide it out...
I suppose I've been afraid to say or write anything about switches like that- afraid of committing to something I can't keep rationalizing new explanations for; keep wondering if I've just worked myself stupidly into an overly emotional state, and that I should have known better than to let myself get involved with the movie; that maybe I'm letting the crashes and takeoffs happen by entertaining thoughts too out of the realm of the here-and-now... And so there's a huge part of me that feels very responsible and sorry for it... And horribly guilty for "nurturing" an illness...
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[26 Jul 2002|01:49pm] |
Everybody's reading Electroboy.
Rod's reading Prozac Nation.
MTv's True Life this week was about bipolar.
Won my fight with the pharmacy for my Neurontin, only to get sucked into another coverage battle for Wellbutrin.
Half the people calling Microsoft with new ideas are starting their requests with: I'm a little manic right now, I'm sorry, but please be patient with me...
It's strange.
All this time I've been thinking that somehow I just wasn't able to put the issue far enough aside to detach, not to let it get to me or remain a kneejerk trigger;
that I'm not getting out of the way, like the one goddamned suicidal dog on every block that can't let a fender go by unpissed on. Apparently it's just that it's everywhere, and there's really no ignoring it; and I'm just that same stupid dog on a twelve-lane freeway, pissing all over himself, not knowing which direction to run.
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| heeeelllllppp!!!!!!!! |
[24 Jul 2002|01:47pm] |
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Called the pharmacy- they were going to fax the rx refill requests again to my dr. bc I guess they can't cut off a sustaining med just like that.... and they still haven't answered... called their office. no answer. I called. No answer.
I AM SO FRUSTRATED and near tears from this same thing happening every damn month and there is not a fucking thing I can do about it!!!! No insurance; this doc and I have cut off office visits due to personal differences. I know the pharmacist can't do anything beyond what they're doing, and they're already trying so much beyond what they have to.
And you know what makes me really mad to the point that I just want to sit down and disable all senses for eternity?? If this were insulin, do you think I'd be getting any shit about it???? Maybe if I went in there with my Undercover-Crazy-Whacko Union Badge, carrying an AK47, they'd toss me a pill or two!
What the FUCK do I do? The last time this happened, I ended up eating a bottle of aspirin before I fucking knew what had happened!! Ohhhh.... But they wouldn't wanna risk a diabetic blood sugar problem, or a blood pressure increase, would they?!!!!!
I'm okay now, but I'm going on two doses overdue and quite shaky on day one already; last time it was almost a month before they got this figured out. I just want to go to the zoo this summer and find a job!! I'm not asking to be a Harvard-educated astronaut here!!
I can't rebuild my life over and over and over and over and over going from one hospital to the next because of simple refill fuckups!!!!!
So, this begs the eternal question: Besides curling up into a ball and sobbing,
what do I do???????????????????????????????????
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| The Castor to my Pollux; and saying Goodbye |
[24 Jul 2002|11:04am] |
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Nixons- The Happy Song |
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God. Where do I start this? People can change... And when they change environments and who they're with, what they're doing, etc., even more so- or at least their potential to. And friends can grow apart, even when they say they won't, and swear that you'll be the egg donor and godmother of their children and all that nonsense...
K's been living downtown now for-- what, a year? year and a half? And it seems to suit him well- much more accepting of gay couples, bars and clubs on every corner, more fast-paced, *always* something to do and someone to do it with, and for someone without a license, a carless city is a perk for him. So... (This's just the setup) He's living his ideal "young 20's gay attractive male lifestyle": clubs and bars every night, weed constantly and drugs when he can find them (not irresponsibly - don't get me wrong there), pool halls, drag shows, dashing off to Vancouver, new clothes and new toys every week, and when he can't afford it, he has folks around to cover him.
He's the manager of his store now, so he's *hardly* hurting for cash, and is planning to go to Europe next year.
More on Europe in a minute. But with his lifestyle, and the fact that he can't save money to save his life, he's moved into with a friend/coworker (He's her manager- and he's alreasy been warned against playing pool and fraternizing with employees after hours). Which seems to work for them, and I really do like Melissa- she's very bright, funny, sharp, self-deprecating, excellent sense of humor even when she's the butt of the joke, and we have somewhat similar backgrounds- theatre, dance, strong leadership, and goals of writing, and not just lofty goals, but hard, etched in stone: THIS is what I'm GOING to do and AM currently committed to DOING.
But, okay- here's where I'm messed up.
Melissa is smart, funny, empathetic, insightful, outgoing, a good dancer, with that oh-so-promising future in writing. No problem, right? We're bound to click!! And a guy has room for more than one friend in his life, and he may as well have handpicked her for me! But he lives 30 miles away, and only sees us when we make the effort to hike the hill for at least the second or third time a day, drive 30 miles north in the third worst traffic freeway in the nation to either pick him up- in which case there's the drive back down, and back up and back down- count it, and it's 120 miles a visit- or "play" with him there, which in his mind means party all night, get shitfaced (I still can't drink more than a beer or two..), dance until 2 or 5 in the morning, and come back to his place and smoke and drink some more. SO- in other words, I don't see him if *I* don't make a tremendous effort. The guy doesn't have a car- I understand that, and I'm cool with coming to see him, but I guess maybe I'm just not cool with coming to see him 100 yds away on the dance floor while I plug my ears at 3am, sipping orange juice at the bar after a $20 cover, waiting for the "only 15 minutes" to be up for another hour .
So- Melissa. She's neat! I like her, and I'd love to hang out with her, see what all makes her tick, see how she'd fit into the chemistry of our lil group! But there's something that makes me very uncomfortable.
She's all my highlighted qualities before I cracked and stayed down. And she's *there*. She's living with him, and I've disappeared; K doesn't call unless he's planning on coming down to "His Vacation Beach House" or we've already called to make plans. To be honest, Melissa's presence hurts. While I'm sure it isn't an outright rejection, it sure as hell feels like it. "*Hey, you know, sorry you're crazy, and you know we waited a long time, but people have to move on...*") And she's just a fucking slap in the face reminder of what I *should* be. I *should* be living someplace where there are more than ten human hearts beating in a 12 mile radius; I'm fucking 24 for fucksake!!!! I'm living someplace that someone might retire who's tired of life and people, and just wants to be alone to wait for the coming of Christ in peace!!! And I'm living like a goddamn hermit to the point where walking near people bothers me. I used to be young and vivacious and full of hope and ideals and rock-solid goals; and suddenly I turned 40 and gave up. And I don't know who where or what I am anymore. I thought I was starting to rebuild something resembling that, and then here's a spitting image of what I was before, and what I WANT and can't have, and it's a double slap in the face....
So I'm feeling kind of replaced by Melissa, as all of her distinctive qualities echo mine (well, as they were) nearly identically; *and* they've become roommates while I still haven't gotten over separating from Keegan, my last friend in the state... And now, to ice the cake, the two of them are going backpacking across Europe together.
I don't think there's another word I need to say beyond that that you can't already read.
I love Rod. I love him so, so, so incredibly much. I can't imagine living my life without him; but there are so many things I feel like I've completely fucked myself over on by getting married so young. Backpacking across Europe- I haven't even been to a bar alone or to a concert without Rod. I just feel like I want a shot at life. This feels like a death sentence.
There is so much jealousy bombarding me from every side I can't even see straight!!
Shit,
LOL
I'm physically holding onto the edges of my desk-- that flailing feeling just fucking overwhelms me sometimes...
Is the secret of life to just not think, ever?
Damn, I wish I could vent this all into a course of action of some sort, but I just feel too pissed off, jealous, adrift, and just--- well, whatever it is that only makes a growl into a scream!!!
It's not all about K and Melissa, though I'd say it's a good 75-85%... at this point... It hurts to lose a friend, but when you have a year's notice that they're leaving for good, and they've found a replacement for you... It's a bit like beginning to mourn early for the terminally ill. I somehow don't want to connect on any deep level with either of them; and it makes me feel horrible, because I disconnected from my dad six months before he died as well. And on one hand, it steeled me for the blow to come; on the other, there was so much wasted time.
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[19 Jul 2002|01:47pm] |
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Every tragedy is a turning point, allowing the victim the opportunity to emerge rekindled, reborn.
The key to this is having made the decision to view the experience differently, or having had a profound insight as to just how his life ought to be lived in a different way.
But supposing the only profundity that hits you is the complete nonsensical nature of it all; that there really is no insight to be gained through all the horror and grief and confusion; that the upset and turmoil will never lie down again - that this moment will only make you aware of all the helplessness in the world; and that that is the insight in itself...
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| Been hiding a little... |
[09 Jul 2002|11:48am] |
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I've been writing in the private section lately- actually for a while now. For a lot of reasons, and I'm not sure if they matter or not; or if anyone still reads this anyway, but here's my quick catch-up entry for the week.
Been feeling pressured to keep up a certain "image", I guess. And with all that's gone on in my life an in my head, I haven't felt capable of doing that. And besides, it got me in the mindframe that this journal is more like a newsletter than a journal, and in my mind, that's fucked. I keep a journal as a bouncing board, sort of a cheap therapist, and if I start feeling like I have to edit my content, it's like editing the content of myself... This really didn't start anywhere or for any good reason; just that there are a couple of you I know outside of livejournal, and --- well, to be frank, I "am" a very different person than I "think" sometimes.
I really do feel okay, but my brain is going crazy with all kinds of insane ideas and thoughts and philosophies; everything from- did I marry the right person and pursue the right type of lifestyle to make myself happy and minimize my long-term regrets? to Is nursing a potential field for me- I'm fascinated by and am educated and literate in pharmacology, and with the degree there are other fields it would be useful in, things that wouldn't bore me to tears like hospital or assisted care work, right?; Why would my dad lie about his whole life and even hide it from his best friend, his daughter, when he knew how alike they were and how she was making the same mistakes he wished he could take back and start again?; Am I trying too hard to rationalize everything and fogetting to just *live*? and how the hell do you just live anyway?; Should I throw my shit in a bag and just head for the desert and start over?; Where is line between restraint and paralysis?; Which elements in my life that I am so unsure or unhappy about are the products of what mistakes? Can any of them be corrected?
I know I've fucked up. A lot. And I want to say unintentionally, but that's kind of implied in the phrase "fucked up". But there's so much more to it than that, and it would take literally chapters to lay it out and work out the details and the how and why and who I've hurt and the fuck-ups that were technically intentional, but I was clearly, to anyone else, out of my mind and not excercising the auto-restraint I have since learned to use when anything feels out of kilter.
I can see now that had I been diagnosed and treated earlier that *so* much of this never would have happened. And... yes. I was responsible for that. I lied. I lied by proxy. I ran and hid and smiled and performed and charmed my way out of everything. And it was only when I got so tired from running that I simply collapsed and showed any cracks. And even then, I continued lying; I wanted Juilliard and Yale so badly I could taste them, and appearances and performance are everything, despite what anyone wants to believe.
And out of all of this, I hold a deep bitterness- a bitterness that I was running and running and expending superhuman amounts of energy... to become - this. Which... I should point out, isn't all that bad. And I'm really only now realizing how fucking pissed off I am... Bitterness can be a very vague, off-in-the-corner, tinging emotion, like regret, more of a color, hardly an emotion at all, while it has been quietly sneaking around behind me to stab me in the back. Don't get me wrong- I met my husband, and reconnected with my mom, so I must have done something right, so I'm not going in that direction; only that at that time, I was striving *so* hard for a goal with a future in mind that would bring me eternal happiness (pardon the exaggeration), and had I known that I would get so sick for 5 goddamn years and know the area hospitals inside-out, have to drop out of college, move back in to take care of my mom at age 23---- I might have taken a couple months out to play softball, or volunteer with horticulture for Green Cross, and go on the Class trips, all of which I thought I had no time for and spent every waking hour and most of the hours when the rest of the world was sleeping scribbling away on my next play or story, or working out how the hell to fit dialogue around existing music in collaboration pieces; taking time out now and again to update my resume and portfolio, praying, reading, rereading, and counting down the days to submission deadlines.
I didn't know that less than a year later I would burn all of it and give up on everything concerning life except for breathing, and even that was debatable.
Whewww.... errr.... ummmm... how's that for a lil missing journal insight?
In short, I guess I've kept quiet out of a need for some privacy... There's a fear of people knowing you too well, if you can understand...
I haven't quite decided how to use this journal yet... Whether to use it more for the "writing" side, or just the day to day happenings journal...
Will update soon and maybe I'll figure some of this shit out.
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[05 Jul 2002|04:29pm] |
Never doubt that a small group of thoughful, committed people can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever has.
~Margaret Mead
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| february rough words |
[08 Apr 2002|12:18pm] |
It was February, five in the morning, and it was cold, and I didn?t care.
I got out of the tanning bed in my building I was experimenting with for the lack of sun here in the northwest, and put on my black slacks and my backpack with my blouse and blazer, and jogged to work in my bikini top through the patches of snow left on the sidewalk.
I was working in sales and hospitality at a 150 room hotel, and arriving so early, only the security cameras would catch me coming in dressed unprofessionally. I went back to the sales office where it was safer, and buttoned my blouse over my pounding heart. As I straightened my blazer and scarf, I noticed on the counter a large box with my name, and I carried it up to the front desk with me. As I opened it, I remembered: we had these little paper condiment cups in the kitchen that we were discontinuing, and I was supposed to find some use for them.
-And I suddenly thought of a sanctifying and protection ritual that might be a last ditch effort to cleanse the office of the darkness that had wormed its way into us?
-But suddenly it was lunchtime, and my boss was getting very insistent at this point that I leave the desk for the proper meal breaks. So I ran home. And got rock salt. And went back to the hotel and smoked a cigarette while walking laps around it. At each corner, I sprinkled a little salt.
But then came the mindfucks: the building wasn?t completely square: how could I salt four corners? ?And should I salt the little inlets, and if so, the ?out? corners as well as the ?ins?? And if I were to make a mistake, would there be a punishment for this itself, or would the punishment of having no protection from the thing be punishment enough? And all the while, thinking the same thoughts over and over, as each new one began, as a chorus of thoughts filled my head, I returned to work, and subtly filled four condiment cups with salt. And, thinking this ain?t the kind of thing you prob?ly wanna draw attention to- BUT, wanting to have all my bases covered, thus the office too- I placed two of them way back in the accounting area behind the miniblinds, and then the other two way back under the front desk.
And over the next few days, things felt even more evil and off kilter, like everybody knew something really awful about me that I don?t know.
?And the wallpaper dragons started to puff up and visibly move and slither about as their eyes darted around and through me like burning hot lasers, as opposed to the ?did-I-see-that? feeling it had been before.
And the angels.
They were vague, and some were specific, more than anything tangible. And- more than any description I could give- they were irresistible. And they absolutely earned my trust, and they began explaining to me this complicated mess that I didn?t understand. Something about the commands and weird things I?d been hearing being related to bad spirits or demons, and a holy clash? I was understanding very little complicated language at this point. They were there for good, and were meant only to help advise me in my battle with my demons, but once I let my belief take it in, I was not feeling any more in control, and rapidly less so, as my control over my behavior was rapidly diminishing. I seemed to be about five hours behind or so, watching everything I was doing, yet had already done, as if it were only a picture show I could shout commands to but were unlikely to change the course of events. I wasn?t entirely disconnected to my body, just very surrounded, nearly consumed by many different versions of reality, all of which I was trying not to reject, and at the same time, I was expending an immense amount of energy trying to appease the gods of each and every realm, and occasionally caught a realistic view of my paranoia, but mostly I was just scared. I was very, very scared.
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[05 Apr 2002|01:45pm] |
I wonder if I've lost hope. Both in getting better and life in general. without the first, the second really doesn't matter.
What if I've been wrong, or too harsh, or looking for the wrong things in all the meds I've tried? What if I've wasted all these years? Would I know? Would I have the balls enough to face it?
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jarrah's journal
