Every second is filled with nervous anticipation. I have taken time off somewhere between, “Yeah, that’s cool” and “I’m doing pretty good”, to find myself with nothing much to say or show for it. It’s been weird for the past week. I feel more conversational than cryptic and abstract and I’m falling into another phase again.
I haven’t really told you how I’m doing lately. On the forefront, great strides have been made from adventures floating downstream in my little rowboat, to getting a bigger SUV to haul said rowboat, to keeping a happy life with my happy wife. Our dog-children are happy, healthy, and spoiled rotten. Life is good.
I’m sure that you have seen that most if my posts are gloom and doom, but honestly I wish I was better at happiness. Despite all these good things, I can’t seem to shake my negativity. I have been focusing a lot lately on losing a family member, several days of nose bleeds with the migraines to match, and my damn tooth that I’m thinking of introducing to my best set of pliers. My dreams have been filled with purging and violence. My body is sore and tired for no apparent reason. I feel as though I’m tearing apart.
The weather is warming up in North Carolina and it makes me reminiscent about summers that are fading in the rear-view. I used to stop in on Fridays to celebrate a long week at work with a bottle of whisky and a case of beer. With windows rolled down and music turned up, I would blast down the highway like a banshee with a megaphone making it obvious that the weekend had arrived. I haven’t yet experienced a dry summer like this. The only droughts I’m used to are ones that swelter the outside world and make my thirst even more unquenchable. I vowed to not bring alcohol into my apartment again but when we go out to eat, you can always find me beside myself as I order an IPA to compliment my burger or pita. You, my friends are always sitting in the forefront of my mind as the hoppy manna from heaven cascades down my gullet. This hypocrite is still weak. Still doubtful. Still self-loathing.
A lot of the time I find myself complacent and bored. It’s still hard to find motivation to get anything done (this week especially). With a few pushes from my better half, I have managed to keep the apartment sort of clean and grab some crafting supplies for dog photoshoots and such. The only real thing that I feel is fulfilled each day without a doubt is my self-shaming. I am getting fat but hold no desire to go to the gym despite my membership. I am eating like shit but hold no desire to cook healthy food. I am constantly thinking of writing but it’s as if I just can’t seem to form words. So I have sat dormant, afraid to make a move for fear that you may hate me or judge me. I cling to each word and punctuation mark as though my life dangles in the balance of your acceptance for some reason. I am beginning to take this too seriously and I hate this feeling.
When I began writing, I didn’t know how I planned to use this platform other than venting and telling stories. Somewhere along the way I have let the numbers get to my head and find myself longing for attention and not being open in the way I should be. This is a place to be carefree and shoot my feelings out into the world, not stare at the admin screen counting views and subscribers. I need my outlet back. I need to just write again and not care. I need to face myself head on and take control again. I think I may need therapy.
I have had a lot of fascination with a condition called Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s a condition that to my understanding makes one have mood swings, impulsive behavior such as shopping or addictive tendencies, and feelings of dissociation. I learned a little bit about it when I began my anxiety medication and have kept it on the backburner for months now as a notion explaining some of my behaviors. Clearly, there hasn’t been a diagnosis for it but I think it may be time to explore and study it. Perhaps the lines are crossed for more reasons than I realize… Or I am simply being the hypochondriac my family has grown to love and tolerate over the years.
I think I am going to continue practicing my writing on a personal level with you and sprinkle in poems and stories instead of following through as I have. In the meantime however, I will continue to contemplate this mind full of madness over my non-alcoholic brew. My pal O’Doul’s is probably going to be the taste that gets me through the hot summer this year as I work to eventually become a dry spirited individual… That and probably a lot of Busch N/A… Anyways if you have any input on this, feel free to write in the comments any opinions or suggestions. I want to get to know my readers more if you will do me the honor. Thanks again for stopping by and be kind to one another.