I am a blob as of late. Just a big, fat blob of nothing. I feel nothing. I want to do nothing that is about it. I am tired. I am angry. I am not where I thought I would be at my age. I am dependent on someone else. I am losing my identity.
Identity is the key. Who am I? What have I done? No one and nothing answers these two questions somewhat perfectly. Faceless to even my friends, I am nothing more than an offhand mention and an afterthought to even my friends. I would be considered a stand in if life were a movie. That is how I feel all the time. Dejected and hopeless only start to tell my daily story.
I don't want to sound like I need your pity, I don't. This mess is my life and I have brought myself to this point with poor decisions, personality issues, and thing I should have gotten help for years ago. I followed and sought things, numbing my brain to escape what the world thought of me. Most of my friends were just acquaintances, drinking buddies and such. Twenty years of wandering and numbing my emotions. Lost in my life, homeless at times, functioning at times, but a mess all the time.
So now I am at the crossroads of my life. There is more at risk than just myself and I am scared. Love has come to me finally and all the things that I need to support my inability to grow-up. Now I have to figure out what I am going to do. I hope that I don't run.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Running Away
Some days getting out of bed is the most I do lately. Truly anticipating something great or even mediocre happening is a fantasy for me. I do what I am supposed to most of the time, take the kids to school, clean up the house, and take care of some errands. But when it comes down to it I let the pressure press my body deeper and deeper into the couch, crushing the will from my body.
I really try. I do. Some people would call it laziness. I wish it were that simple. Explaining to someone how life has turned on you in small, incremental steps to where suddenly you get up the life you once valued is only a shell of what it once was.
Fortunately; I still have a great relationship. That is what holds me together these days, yet stresses me out. Running away has been how I have dealt with stress and despair in my life. This method has always seemed to work before I had a family. Now I feel doubly guilty about wanting to run away. I know I won't but sometimes the dream of another exotic job or vacation is the only thing that keeps me going.
I really try. I do. Some people would call it laziness. I wish it were that simple. Explaining to someone how life has turned on you in small, incremental steps to where suddenly you get up the life you once valued is only a shell of what it once was.
Fortunately; I still have a great relationship. That is what holds me together these days, yet stresses me out. Running away has been how I have dealt with stress and despair in my life. This method has always seemed to work before I had a family. Now I feel doubly guilty about wanting to run away. I know I won't but sometimes the dream of another exotic job or vacation is the only thing that keeps me going.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Today Will Be Different
I would like to think that today will be different than the last few. But it won't be. The loop of my life travels in a tiny circular cycle. A cycle that starts with tedium and ends with boring. Wishing for change is about all I can do at this point. The inability of my psyche to get past the depression lately has be tough.
Today will be different though. I say that to myself everyday. That is my prayer.
Today will be different though. I say that to myself everyday. That is my prayer.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Scrubbing the Floor
Yesterday I scrubbed my kitchen floor. Big deal huh? It was though. It truly was a gigantic step for the day. Sometimes just being able to do a simple task like that makes me feel like I have reached the top of Mount Everest.
Focus is something that is difficult for myself. I can't just set off to do something. Accomplishment of a goal, no matter how simple, is paramount to me winning the lottery some days. Being able to do the dishes or vacuum or even take a shower can be daunting for myself. Couple these things with appearing to have your act together and being able to function at a minimal level in society and the stress becomes almost overwhelming.
These stresses and anxieties ebb and flow. I was actually in a great two year period where I didn't have the anxiety and depression monsters making their daily appearance. I had managed my gambling problem(this is a common symptom of depression) and had fallen in-love(still am very in love). But since losing my job and the life that I really liked the anxiety and depression has returned. So being able to just accomplish something simple other than the expected duties that I have to do was a big deal. I just hope that I can get more done today because I have to try.
This is going to be short. I am scattered today. But I am trying to hang on.
Focus is something that is difficult for myself. I can't just set off to do something. Accomplishment of a goal, no matter how simple, is paramount to me winning the lottery some days. Being able to do the dishes or vacuum or even take a shower can be daunting for myself. Couple these things with appearing to have your act together and being able to function at a minimal level in society and the stress becomes almost overwhelming.
These stresses and anxieties ebb and flow. I was actually in a great two year period where I didn't have the anxiety and depression monsters making their daily appearance. I had managed my gambling problem(this is a common symptom of depression) and had fallen in-love(still am very in love). But since losing my job and the life that I really liked the anxiety and depression has returned. So being able to just accomplish something simple other than the expected duties that I have to do was a big deal. I just hope that I can get more done today because I have to try.
This is going to be short. I am scattered today. But I am trying to hang on.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Lies
I was always the one who took the blame. This seemed to be job growing-up. If my brother and I had gotten into trouble then I would try to shoulder the burden. Crazy huh? My misguided reasoning for this flaw I am still trying to come to grips with to this day. Even today I feel like it is my duty to be a vessel of absolution for people.
It has taken years for me to quit saying; "What have I done now?" when someone said my name. This was my way with people. I would just put myself in their back pocket immediately, a voodoo doll for them to stick the pins of their day's angst into. The only reason why I would do this that my pea brain can even rationalize is that I wanted to put everyone at ease. Relieving any perceived pressure personal or situational was my subliminal goal of my statement.
I often did this to appease my father. He had one of those flash pan tempers. A spark from the ether and he would be set off. Violent yelling usually, maybe something thrown, but he never, ever beat on me or my brother but the tantrums caused me to do everything in my power to prevent them. Taking the blame for anything and everything was the easy way out.
(Disclaimer: My Dad is a great guy. He/we had our issues when we were both children. He never really grew-up until the end of his third marriage, right around the age of 55. I am very close to him, probably too close but age has smoothed out most of his anger issues and for this I am pleased.)
There often are things that people do to survive emotionally. Hell; I couldn't not tell lie about the simplest of things until I was thirty. I lied to feel like I was somebody. I would lie about incidental things. That is where the acceptance of fault or blame came from I am sure. But it also came from trying to protect people in my own way. I wanted to save those who I loved by carrying their troubles.
My first big lie was a doozer. I was seven and had gone to Spokane with my mother for something to do with something but we had ended up on the local noon talk show. You know the cute kids in the studio thing. My brother and I just sat there in chairs and smiled. By the time I had gotten back to Joseph for the first show and tell session of the year it had morphed into me riding in a mechanical version of King Kong. I resolutely told my class about what I had done. They bought it. I am sure my teacher told all the teachers in the teachers' lounge about my tale. I still have no idea why I did this other than to feel important, different - that I mattered somehow. See how this all goes together? See what a mess I am starting from a young age? Why is what I still don't know.
It has taken years for me to quit saying; "What have I done now?" when someone said my name. This was my way with people. I would just put myself in their back pocket immediately, a voodoo doll for them to stick the pins of their day's angst into. The only reason why I would do this that my pea brain can even rationalize is that I wanted to put everyone at ease. Relieving any perceived pressure personal or situational was my subliminal goal of my statement.
I often did this to appease my father. He had one of those flash pan tempers. A spark from the ether and he would be set off. Violent yelling usually, maybe something thrown, but he never, ever beat on me or my brother but the tantrums caused me to do everything in my power to prevent them. Taking the blame for anything and everything was the easy way out.
(Disclaimer: My Dad is a great guy. He/we had our issues when we were both children. He never really grew-up until the end of his third marriage, right around the age of 55. I am very close to him, probably too close but age has smoothed out most of his anger issues and for this I am pleased.)
There often are things that people do to survive emotionally. Hell; I couldn't not tell lie about the simplest of things until I was thirty. I lied to feel like I was somebody. I would lie about incidental things. That is where the acceptance of fault or blame came from I am sure. But it also came from trying to protect people in my own way. I wanted to save those who I loved by carrying their troubles.
My first big lie was a doozer. I was seven and had gone to Spokane with my mother for something to do with something but we had ended up on the local noon talk show. You know the cute kids in the studio thing. My brother and I just sat there in chairs and smiled. By the time I had gotten back to Joseph for the first show and tell session of the year it had morphed into me riding in a mechanical version of King Kong. I resolutely told my class about what I had done. They bought it. I am sure my teacher told all the teachers in the teachers' lounge about my tale. I still have no idea why I did this other than to feel important, different - that I mattered somehow. See how this all goes together? See what a mess I am starting from a young age? Why is what I still don't know.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Morning Darkness
Today is today. I am up at my usual 4:45 in the A.M. with Shelly. It is the least I can do since she is supporting both us and the kids now. I am glad that I get the time with her. Mornings are always the best, relaxed and easy, the monsters of the real world are still asleep. Early morning darkness has always been a security blanket for me.
Some days I wish the darkness would stay. An omnipresent force to hide the world from me is always welcomed by me. Starting in high school, I naturally started to get up early. The morning was my time, my father had usually gone to work and my stepmother was still in bed. I loved reading the paper by myself as the subtle breeze blew icy snow flakes against the kitchen window. It was my time.
At my mother's house it was totally different in the darkness of the mornings. When I was there my brother and I would awaken in the basement to the sounds of my mom banging around the kitchen. She always made us something for breakfast it seemed. Her house was the exact opposite of my father's house, not to say that Dad's house was bad, but Mom made her house a home. My father's house was a place to sleep, avoid my stepmother, and wait for Dad to get home so we could do stuff together. That was the difference. This is why the morning is still my favorite time of day.
Most mornings I stand on my porch in the darkness with a cup of coffee. I stand in the darkness remembering times that have gone by, my memory prompted by a little passing breeze on my face or the sound of a train whistle. These things remind me of the places that have hidden me from the world.
Some days I wish the darkness would stay. An omnipresent force to hide the world from me is always welcomed by me. Starting in high school, I naturally started to get up early. The morning was my time, my father had usually gone to work and my stepmother was still in bed. I loved reading the paper by myself as the subtle breeze blew icy snow flakes against the kitchen window. It was my time.
At my mother's house it was totally different in the darkness of the mornings. When I was there my brother and I would awaken in the basement to the sounds of my mom banging around the kitchen. She always made us something for breakfast it seemed. Her house was the exact opposite of my father's house, not to say that Dad's house was bad, but Mom made her house a home. My father's house was a place to sleep, avoid my stepmother, and wait for Dad to get home so we could do stuff together. That was the difference. This is why the morning is still my favorite time of day.
Most mornings I stand on my porch in the darkness with a cup of coffee. I stand in the darkness remembering times that have gone by, my memory prompted by a little passing breeze on my face or the sound of a train whistle. These things remind me of the places that have hidden me from the world.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Beginning
Today I came to one conclusion. Simply put; I am a man crippled by what has been years of depression and angst. I wish that I could say that my life has mirrored Willy Loman, but it really hasn't. I have managed to hide my inner-self since I was a child with a smile and a jovial laugh that tends to exhibit itself when the situation is more serious than funny.
Hiding out in the open is what I have done since I was a kid. I wore nervousness like an uncomfortable pair of underwear, feeling like I never measured up to anyone. But onward through life I went. Racing away from responsibility if the unhappiness inside my body grew to a point that made me think of my own death. That is my coping mechanism, escape. I have quit jobs, left towns, drank, smoked, turned into a hermit, gambled, and slept around just trying to quell the voice inside my head. The same voice that said; "Sean keep smiling or they won't like you. Be the strong one, stay even-keeled." That is what I do, have done, and fight to the point of my own sanity almost every day.
This is what I will be writing about...
Hiding out in the open is what I have done since I was a kid. I wore nervousness like an uncomfortable pair of underwear, feeling like I never measured up to anyone. But onward through life I went. Racing away from responsibility if the unhappiness inside my body grew to a point that made me think of my own death. That is my coping mechanism, escape. I have quit jobs, left towns, drank, smoked, turned into a hermit, gambled, and slept around just trying to quell the voice inside my head. The same voice that said; "Sean keep smiling or they won't like you. Be the strong one, stay even-keeled." That is what I do, have done, and fight to the point of my own sanity almost every day.
This is what I will be writing about...
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