I’ve been disconnected for a couple of months, and it’s because I’ve had a lot going on, a lot of changes to handle in a short period. Some of them are good, and some of them are bad, but all of them are emotionally-charged and challenging and have taken up most of my spare time. The little time I have had left has usually been spent napping or watching TV because I feel that it’s very important for me to spend at least some of my time being a useless, lazy fuck.
Unfortunately, there is a fine line between detaching from the world for a little while and isolating, and I realized I was isolating about two weeks in. I just wasn’t ready to do anything about it. And I’m still not, but I’m getting worse, so I have to force myself to reach out just a little. The past week has been a very special brand of terrible, and I can feel the cracks forming. I know the more I ignore them, the bigger they will grow, until I crumble into a snotty, tear-soaked pile of emotional dust. If, however, I take on the painful and difficult task of recognizing the cracks and patching them, I can live to have a nervous breakdown another day. So I am using some of my lazy-fuck-TV-watching time to face the smallest amount of emotion I can and still function in a somewhat-human manner. That means crying for awhile and hurling invectives at no one in particular and also maybe getting a little drunk. Nothing too destructive.
My point here, amidst all the lamenting and bitching, is that it’s important to recognize when you’re doing something that is unhealthy for you (like isolating and pretending you have a Vulcan-like immunity to feelings) and to pull yourself out of it a little bit at a time. And if you can’t pick yourself up, then for shit’s sake, ask for help. I’m very bad at that, but I will do it when I get to the point that I can’t even deal with a trip to the grocery store. Life can be really great, and it can be really shitty, and then sometimes it goes all great and shitballs all at once, so you don’t even know what you’re supposed to be feeling. And that’s where I am right now, so I have moments of happiness, followed by moments of grief, and then moments of rage at the grief for intruding on the happiness because I get precious little of that. It’s been a very bipolar couple of months.
I don’t want to write this. I don’t want to post it. I don’t want to talk to anyone or look at what I’m feeling. But I need to, and life is about doing what’s needed rather than what’s wanted more often than not. So there it is, just putting it out there so that it’s not locked up inside and eating away at me. I will end with my all-time favorite quote by Khalil Ghibran: “Out of suffering emerges the strongest souls. The most massive characters are seared with scars.” I will have a massive character one of these days, and it will be my badge of honor.