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jan 13 2015
annual update; still aging

Jan 13 2014
alive2014

april 26 2010
not the entry i wanted to write

nov 13 2009
polar extremes

sep 21 2009
cure for angst is dictatorship

i think they call this "cycling" sep 12, 2009 - 5.59 pm

i'm sick of publicizing my sadness subtly on facebook, or cryptically on twitter, so i'm going to use this semi-private forum to waaaaaaaaaaahh all i want.

i am lonely.

i am also off my pills, so i know that this extra-morose cloud hanging over me is chemically-influenced, but would it be better to have my head *in* the clouds? when i'm "happy" i don't have to work on anything; i can coast along, a pig pleased as punch in my own shit. or i'm too busy to think.

well, i'm busy now. i'm busy juggling 50,000 things which don't add up very well, and certainly don't add up to stability. i managed to accomplish a whole mess of things on friday, things that had been pulling at me and weighing on me. i even managed to set up an interview for a job that i'll probably get. then i can go back to my 9-5 life and lifestyle, and use the excuse that i'm too busy to clean things up. too busy to worry. too busy to be depressed, essentially.

an added source of this misery is feeling confused, and unsure of myself and my wants and my needs. i go to bed alone, surrounded by pillows that somehow end up on all sides of me so that should i roll over, should i put my arm out, there is something there for me to hold. when i wake, i bury my face in them, groggy and afraid to face the day ahead.

and yet i want my freedom to be alone. i don't want to live *for* another person, but the longer i splash around in this mud puddle of my own making, the more convinced i am that i *have* to live for another. that i can't clean it all up for my own sake. and that's just bullshit, but perhaps too close to the truth.

i don't know where to start. i never know where to start. i try to make dents and get distracted by the multitude of dents i have to make. making one dent merely reveals ten more. which one should go first? which one will help the most? i can't answer any of the questions.

i think about needing to see my shrink but wonder what good it would do. just to say it? to cry and lament that i'm depressed? what can people say that i haven't heard before, or even that i know? i know. i know it all. i'm a know it all who knows nothing.

my jealousy surges and my inability to shape the world to my liking make it even worse, as i stamp my feet and kick up the dust and have a full-on melt-down tantrum in my head. i feel 2. i feel 10. i feel anything but the adult i should be, weakened by these failings and flailings.

will it be like this when i'm 50? will i still feel like a petulant pre-teen, bound and gagged by my ever-unhelpful brain? no, by then i should have a whole new set of hormones with which to deal. who knows how it'll manifest then. if i keep heading the direction i've been going, i'll be a hermit, a hoarder, a shut-in. the anxiety i've nurtured from the seed of generalized anxiety disorder, into panic, into paralysis, into social anxiety, will perhaps blossom into full-on obsessive-compulsive disorder while i attempt to assert control over miniscule aspects of my out-of-control world and life. perhaps i'll finally have that "thin period" for which i've been waiting. perhaps i'll control my weight, my eating, my exercise at last. perhaps i will control it hard. perhaps i will control myself hard.

this speculation comes from the reality that it will never go away. the flavours will change. the tint - from grey to green to livid orange or vivid blue - will lend its perspective to me.

what is sorely missing, it seems (and was expected) is the purple-tinted perspective that comes from the meds. their saving grace is that they give a positive spin on faking-it-till-i-make-it.

otherwise? i just feel like a fucking fake.

last time***next time