Oh, how I wish I could just plug this thing into my brain, sometimes, & let the words fall out to the screen. Typing them out seems to lose something in the translation.
I really want to go “stream of consciousness”…but I’m afraid I’d end up with the police at my door doing a “wellness check” in the middle of the night because of it.
Yeah, there are dark corners in my cranium that should probably remain unexplored.
And, around me, there sits a deep well of silence that keeps growing deeper and wider. The darkness wraps around me like a lover, only cold. Like the dead.
Fair weathers pop up every now and again, with platitudes & cliches…I smile tightly and nod my head once in acknowledgment of their words. It’s maybe well-meant, but they don’t get it. They have no clue what depression is, or they wouldn’t spit their *insert eye-roll* armchair opinions at me.
So, I retreat again, going back into my silence. Both at work and at home, only speaking when absolutely necessary, or to maintain the facade of reasonable health.
Fuck ’em, it’s none of their damned business.
They don’t really seem to care anyway.
Relagating them back to the “friendly acquaintance” circle.
Which is ok. They don’t have to be my friend. It’s not a requirement. And I don’t hold it against them.
But – there is a loss of privileges with the movement to a further circle.
A loss of trust and friendly intimacy. A definite loss of sharing.
They will be the ones who, when they ask “how are you?” Will get the reply “I’m fine”. End of.
Nothing more than surface.
And then…there’s the anomaly of this blog.
Sometimes I speak so raw & honestly here, my soul bleeds out onto the screen.
Other times, I’m so hitting the delete button time and time again, editing myself for fear of exposure.
And yet…the only one who really gets it, is so far away I’d have to hop a plane to get a hug.
Just to reiterate, for the nervous, I don’t want to die, nor would I ever commit suicide.
But, lately, and for a while now…I just want to lie down, fall asleep, and not wake up.
Maybe that’s why I spend so much time with my face buried in my Kindle, or in my gaming. I want to escape so hard from the reality that is my life, I’ll take the path of least resistance & throw myself down the rabbit hole.
I’m avoiding everything else so hard, I just can’t deal, right now. It hurts, like sandpaper on my skin.
Facing dead-end relationships, knowing there’s no hope, no future. An ex trying to contact me again, harassing me with “anonymous” phone calls & whiny emails. Stress and heartbreak, so I’m closing those doors & compartmentalizing that for some time later down the road. Or maybe never.
I haven’t decided yet.
And thise fair weathers? Those “friendly acquaintances”? I can tell that I’m not their friend, nor do they consider me such.
How?
I receive no phone calls, no texts, no visits – just for shits and giggles.
There are no invitations to anything. Unless it’s the odd birthday get-together at the bar after work, which I do sometimes try to go, but I don’t really drink, anymore, because of my medications, nor do I really enjoy it, anymore. I’m just kind of over the “bar bingo” thing. I certainly don’t get invited to join them when they all go out somewhere for lunch. Who wants to invite the woman who’s allergic to half the menu?
I don’t get included in, or asked to participate in, their little clique conversations.
Oh, I used to try. I’d initiate conversations, try to find things to discuss in common, try to arrange outings other than the bar…
And…it would dwindle as soon as I took my foot off the gas. As soon as I stopped attempting to fire up a friendship, the embers would drop to ash & go cold.
I used to let it get to me. It used to bother me quite a bit, and in fact… No, never fucking mind. You don’t get that reaction anymore.
Now, all I have, really, is apathy.
I just don’t fucking care.
About much of anything.
Except my Beloved Nephew, my kids, & my grandbabies.
And the only one that seems to truly need me, is my Beloved Nephew.
Eldestdaughter has her husband.
Youngerdaughter has her boyfriend.
And OnlySon has his father.
Speaking of… Did you know that a few weeks ago, OnlySon asked me to help him pick out good steaks for him to buy – for his father???
You know, because he just wanted to do something nice for his dad…
So, of course, for OnlySon’s sake, I helped him out.
And the selfish, asshole midget inside my brain whispered “And what about all the nice things I do for you, you ungrateful little wretch? When was the last time you did something nice for me…hmm? Oh…NEVER! THAT’S WHEN!”
Irrational anger, short temper, panic episodes, pounding heart, tight chest, shortness of breath, muscle tension, brain fog, lack of focus, general apathy, insomnia, nightmares, frequent migraines, lack of energy, bursts of severely emotional crying states, self-criticism, bouts of staring into space…at nothing, really, for long periods of time, lack of motivation, procrastination, easy tasks that become insurmountable simply because of the depression, severe anxiety, dread…over everything.
This is what lives inside me.
All. The. Time.
Not just right now.
Always.
Some days are better than others.
Some days are bad.
I’ve been having a lot of bad days.
But, I’m starting to feel fictionally inspired by some music I’ve been listening to.
So, there will be horror coming up.
Fictional horror, that is.
The real horror no one wants to deal with. Obviously, as evinced by my silent life.
Brea's Air 