No New Tale

Apparently all that sleep I wasn't getting a couple months back has found me. It seems that I come home from work, make food, settle down, and pass the hell out. I also sleep at night. Upon my alarm going off at 3:30 a.m. I am left struggling out of sleep. Usually this hits me in the winter. It's rather odd that my body and mind have decided to take up this habit.

I find myself needing a lot of self-soothing, too. This has probably been the hardest thing for me to learn to do. I always felt I needed to constantly poke myself with the terrible things going on in the world. There were plenty of people around to constantly push the agenda of guilt about... well, everything, really. I began to look at the people who were better off than me in all aspects of life, though. This began to give me a different perspective. I can do both. I can work to help people around me and I can enjoy my own life. I expect nothing less than that of people I look up to. Why would I expect that I spend all my time feeling bad about not suffering as much as someone else? Seems an odd way to spend our lives.

It is possible for us to pull each other up, instead of drag everyone else down. I do both. I help where I can, and I help myself, too. If I have to not look at the horrible things going on in the world, I will look away. I will look at kitten videos. I'll watch someone post their accomplishments in Pokemon Go. I will play a fucking video game. I know bad things are afoot, all the time. I do not have to wallow in it to help.

It wasn't on my page, but someone yelled at someone else about posting about their washing machine breaking down and flooding a portion of their room. It was probably around the time of the worldwide tsunami, or something very similar. Someone had to pipe up with a long rant about how no one should ever complain about something so "small" when there are such big tragedies in this world.

Instead of the shaming of someone who had something happen that has to be dealt with talking about it openly, I will merely do what I can to provide some help where I can. I'm not going to berate someone for having to deal with an immediate grievance. This serves no function at all, in practice. I'm pretty sure it just severed any trust between the two of them. A person who didn't give a shit about the tsunami isn't going to care after that. A person who does care is just going to feel bad on top of feeling bad.

Same with depression. My brain malfunctions. I talk about it openly. No, you're right, I didn't have all my belongings and family blown away in a bomb, but I am depressed. Two very different topics. The two things don't belong in the same topic of conversation. And when I'm depressed, pointing out how horrible things are in the world makes it worse. It just exacerbates the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness and the nihilism. The suicidal ideation just increases.

So, yes, you're right, there are terrible things happening in the world. Always. Again. Forever. I'm going to go read a book from my childhood, instead, though, knowing that I can't fix it all at once. I'll do what I can, and move on. I expect no less of anyone else. Why would I expect more of myself? I am well aware of all I've done. I'm not interested in providing anyone else with a constant stream of evidence. In the end, I go to bed alone, knowing I've done all I can, for the day.

Right now, sleep seems to coming back into my body. I'm not going to pass up on it just because someone else has a worse life than mine where they are not sleeping. I was that person, once, and I didn't expect anyone else to curtail their sleep in solidarity with me. That would have been absurd. I'm going to sleep, because I can. I love me some sleep.

What a Week I'm Having

The issuance of funds through Federal Student Aid is not how I remember it. I realize it's been a very long time, but sheesh, it is even more difficult than it was. Therefore, all of my son's books had to be purchased with my paycheck. Eventually we will see the money he was awarded. Just not for a little while. That was painful to me. The fact that university is this difficult and expensive is overwhelming, at times. Of course the books for his courses are neither used nor available to rent, either. Ouch. I'm not in the sort of poverty I grew up in, though I may still legally qualify as poverty level, so yes, more than $500 in one sitting was really painful.

There were also two wrecks on the roads I needed to use to get back home after helping him purchase the books. That trip home took three times as long as it usually takes. Aside of the fact that even getting out of the university was tricky. I'm really glad that he's staying in a dorm, now. My little, old man stuck in the body of a kid.

Also, his professor of programming suggested he take a test to advance his placement in a higher course, since he taught himself all the basic programming, already. He may not have taken courses, but he worked really hard to learn all he could on his own. When anyone suggests that I was too lenient about the amount of time I allowed him to spend on his computer, I'm just going to point to this. He wasn't on Snapchat and Omegle. He was actively self-educating. I feel vindicated. He feels proud of himself, too.

As for me? Well, once this ouchy financial pinch is over, I suppose it's time to hunt down my 23 year old transcripts. *I feel more anxiety about that part of the re-entering of college than I do of actually getting into college and having to take tests. I need to do something. I'm lagging way behind, and I feel it. I know I'm more than this. I know I am. People may not see it in me, but I see it. Maybe I have an inflated sense of self-worth right now. I don't know. I guess I should use it. Once I get over my son's financial BS for his college experience.

The other question is what do I go back for? I don't know that I have it in me to be a secondary teacher. I think I'm probably too old now to do any education courses. I'm sure others could do it, but for me, personally, I just don't know that I have the patience nor the stamina for teaching, anymore. Life took some major chunks out of me, along the way. It's something I have to really consider. If I didn't have to worry about money, I'd go in undeclared and maybe stay that way until I was forced to pick something.

All I know is this isn't it for me. It just isn't.

Finding Peace

There was nothing but sleep today. The window was open while it was still cool, and the feeling just washed over me better than Benedryl. So, I had a long morning nap. It was blissful. When I woke up, I nearly felt rested. One day, maybe I'll even be re-energized by sleep. I'm not counting on it, though.

The cat was needy as can be. Actually, he's still acting very needy. He must be touching me, and has tried hard to climb on me, all day. Normally he knows better. I taught him very young that I'm not a bed. Which is good, because he's a huge cat, and it can be downright painful when he climbs on me.

My son's senior yearbook finally came in, and his picture shows how angry and burnt out he was. His quotes matched his face. I really hope he relaxes now that those days are over.

Right now, it's just me and the other son, next to each other on laptops. He's playing Roblox, and I'm reading short pieces online. He did his homework, we had a little pizza and pretzels, and I did the litterbox and dishes. It isn't like we don't deserve to settle in and play, now.

As is summer here, the heat will return in full force tomorrow. I would love that 20%  chance of a thunderstorm to give us a little light and sound show. It's unlikely, though this has been one of the wetter Augusts I've experienced in years. Normally, this is when the drought begins. Usually by the end of September, wildfire season is well under way. We'll see if the rain keeps up. It would be nice to go a year without watching the sun set mulch on fire.

So, this is my life, right now. It's actually good. I could ask for one more piece of my life to be better, but after years of far worse, I'm content that this is it.

Dropping from Summer

The air is cooler and drier than it has been. It's not fall temperatures, yet. It's so much better than it was, though, that I almost enjoy the summer, again. I say almost because I'm starting to feel the numbness creep back into my brain. Not sadness, not anger, not anything at all. As much as this brings me dread, there is a part of me that is glad to go back to the nothingness. Feelings are overrated. They don't pay the rent, and they certainly don't seem to get rewarded in any other way.

The sky was such a perfect view. Puffy clouds floating along, now and then, against the most brilliant blue I've seen in a long time. No smog or humidity to spoil it. It was just cool enough to open the car windows while driving. (At standstills, however, it was far too hot, and on came the A/C.) During the school year, traffic is different, and lighter when I leave work at 12:30. I actually haven't felt road rage in months. Probably since I last drove down Covington, on my least favorite road, to pick up my oldest son, one last time.

In all, my life has improved in leaps and bounds over this summer. I have nothing to really complain about, in the big areas. I'll find plenty in the small realms, though, don't you worry. Heh. In all, I've got to say, it isn't the hopes and dreams I have had, but it is quiet and easy. It is something many would envy, really. Even without relationships and sweet little pictures. I have the basics that I lacked for decades. It will be okay. It really will.

Numbness or no, I'm okay.

When Technology Is Good, I Love It

It feels as though technology is taking over every nook and cranny of life, now. Thinking back to a time, at nearly the turn of the new millennium, it seems there's no time I've been unplugged for twenty years. I remember when my dad got a cell phone, which was limited to extreme cases of use. Then when he had a computer, and his life was based around his addictive personality. He had strict rules for use. I wonder if he'd consider the amount of time I spend looking at some screen or another an addiction. He was always carefully watching me for addictions.

One of the major activities in my life was always writing. I filled notebooks, journals, binders, and scraps of paper with thoughts and ideas. This began when I was 8, when I was actually settled down, no longer being told my living situation was temporary. This activity is now done on computers. Is it really fair to consider the amount of time I spend on the computer so heavy, when all I did was switch the place I was writing from paper to electronics?

However, I do wonder what would happen if I lost my electricity for a while. Would I have withdrawal? Would there be some major collapse in my life? I don't think so. Looking back, shortly after moving into this apartment, I was without internet or smart phone for several months. I didn't collapse in a puddle, then. I adapted until I could reconnect. That was five years ago, though.

This weekend, I was directed to an app that the elementary school teachers use to inform us parents of what is going on in class. Email has now become obsolete, in favor of text messages. The world revolves around that cell phone I know my dad hated more than anything on earth. There is no escaping other humans. There is no escaping the obligations of connectivity. A part of me still wants to run away, live in the woods, and go off grid. However, I've adapted to this world, now. I've made my peace with it.

I don't think I'm addicted. It's just the single easiest way to live that I've found, so far. Seems to be a good experiment in survival. As long as the electric and communication grids all remain in tact. I've seen technology fail spectacularly, too. It could go very wrong, very fast. Let's just hope it mostly remains steady. When it's good, it's really good.

Adjustment Begins

Okay, well, there it is. The absence of my son has become obvious to me. With the sharing of custody, I knew it would be a couple days until I really, on a physical level, understood he is not living here, now. I feel it, though. My younger son said he is beginning to miss him, a little, now. Not his alter ego, of course. Just his actual brother, who gave him attention out of nowhere, and was a constant in his life. It's going to take some time to adjust.

I may have shed a couple tears yesterday. Today, I'm okay, again. It isn't like he's actually gone. He still expects me to take care of him. Just from a distance. Well, if that doesn't explain the state of adolescence, I don't know what does.

This is a good time to start exploring more for myself. My workload is far more than halved, with only a single child in the home, half the time. I don't referee non-stop. I cook less. I do less help with other tasks. See, on top of taking care of each child's needs, you have to take care of their relationship. That's what makes having two kids in the same house so much harder than doubling your workload. Of course, I only had two. Mind you, my second was a surprise, but that was quite enough for me.

The mid-afternoon naps still happen. Will I ever recover fully from day sleeping and night living while I worked 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. for five years? It was a year and a half ago. The afternoon naps are just still too delicious. I could be doing so much, but here, after I write this, I think I'm going to nap. And now that the younger has gone to his dad's house, I can. It is a privilege I don't take for granted.

Nap and Sims? Maybe.

Exhausted

Lately, I've been sitting on my giant, soft flat surface in my room, and my eyes close and I lose consciousness for a while. I went so far as six hours in a row. I'm scared. This is out of the ordinary. There are these images, stories, and scenes that play out in my head while I'm unconscious. I remember them vaguely. Something about walking along wet streets with a very wonderful man I've never met. Then I find myself conscious again, and none of it happened!

What is this new experience?

*note, I don't feel rested after these experiences. C'mon brain/body, if we're going to actually sleep for long periods of time, the least you could do is make me feel fucking rested!

Moving Day for D

Everything is finished. I have moved my sixteen year old into a college dorm, and went to see financial aid about the weird way it wasn't fully processed yet. My son has the basics he needs, and seems adjusted.

There is a part of me that wonders if the reason he felt the need to move into the dorm immediately because of the years of watching me play, and for a while playing, The Sims 2. Teens go off to college and live at the school until they finish and graduate, in the game. He's very close to all of us, being at NKU. It's within minutes of someone who can reach him in an emergency. It's odd, because I never felt the need to live on campus, even when I moved in with roommates, it was into an apartment, off campus. It's not something I thought much about.

Right now, it won't feel too different. The schedule I've been keeping in conjunction with my ex means that they are with their dad enough that I already had to adjust to not seeing them every day. In a few days, though, I'll begin to feel it, for real. That doesn't mean watching him move into the dorm was unemotional. Oh no. I can feel the tears threatening me, already.

Every second, every step, every event, it all flies away faster than it seems, when you're in the moment. Now, here it is, the first big move. My ten year old will feel like an only child for a while. On the opposite side of the time my sixteen year old was an only child. It feels too fast, and I feel so much older and unable to hold on to what I have left.

Ooh, yeah, I'm getting emotional now. I think I'm going to stop writing.

Too Much

If it seems like I've been online all day, flitting from page to page, it's true. I have. I'm on the verge of a breakdown. I'm having anxiety issues. I feel like I did something wrong, or just didn't do something all the way right. It's a financial thing. So that is why I'm bordering on a panic attack.

I take refuge in the internet. You can thank someone named Mark in 1995 for introducing me to this internet thing. I was a Luddite, before that. I didn't even use a word processor. All that handwritten stuff!

Anyway, yes, I'm online and looking at lots of small things, and nothing in depth.

Gotta get through tomorrow. That's all.

Clutter

A while ago, I read a few articles that explained that I am not odd in that it is hard for me to "declutter." It seems that living simply really is for people who have disposable income. I can't just throw everything away and hope I have money, should I need to repair or replace parts of what I have. I keep things around for parts, or for backup to the better things I usually use.

I've got bags of clothes from the older child waiting for the younger one to grow into them. I have artsy-craftsy supplies in bits and pieces. I have cords, boxes, thick plastic bags that comforter sets come in, filled with orphaned pillowcases and sheets, towels, and every blanket that is still usable. There are shoes and boots I don't get to wear much. There are remnants of other years' school supplies. I have CDs, cassettes, and VHS tapes. I have a crate of vinyl. I have toothbrushes and sample-size toothpaste and bottles of shampoo and mouth rinses. I have old brushes, combs, bits of clothing that was unusable, for rags. I have mismatched dishes and ceramic sets that I don't use because I'd rather just not break dishes. I have a bunch of cups, mugs, and glasses I don't even use. I have two sets of brooms and dustpans - one set was given to me, and I just can't seem to just get rid of either, because they're still usable. I have jewelry I never wear. I have nine watches, which only two work. I have an espresso machine, a coffeemaker, a tiny French press, a single-cup funnel made to sit on a mug. I have a reusable filter. I have an old part from the larger French press, though I was given another that isn't frayed and works, I kept the old one. I have two cases of books I've already read a few times, but won't read again. I have photos in boxes that probably shouldn't remain in my possession. I have board games that require more people than I'll get to come over. I've got floppy disks and CD-Roms. I have binders and folders of journals and other writing. Well, what survived of my purges. I have the broken 3-in-one printer thing, two old phones, a broken router, and a broken computer under a desk.

Like that paragraph, most of these things could probably be wheedled down to almost nothing. I just can't bring myself to believe I won't want or need these things at some point. But let me tell you, if I won one of those super duper mega lotteries, I'd probably keep the bare minimum of things that can't be replaced, and start over again. The urge to purge it all is strong, but then I fight through every single item, convinced I can't throw it away.

This is something that you learn along the way. Being stranded without something that could have been useful, and now you have to spend money you don't really have, or limp along without a crucial item (say, a printer) for long periods of time will do this. I really need to do something about that closet, though.

This is just the half I can see.

http://imgur.com/jXPLkzN

I suppose this will be my next project, around the house. I'm going to have to be far more strict about what I let myself keep. Job stability means I don't need most of that crap. Donation time for some of it, and trash for the stuff that I wouldn't even give away! I can do this, right? Maybe. It's still hard to believe this is so difficult that I would post about it. In time, I'll work through this, as well as I have the mental clutter I've cut through. It's just stuff.

Two Days to Go

Coming to the realization that I'm not handling the changes that are coming this week very well. I'm not going to be an empty-nester. I still have one going into fifth grade, at home. He's quite independent, as well, though. It doesn't seem real to me, yet part of me is reacting as if I'm about to start a long, unknown journey into a foggy sea. Pieces of all the years past are coming up, randomly. It's exciting, but anxiety-inducing.

There have been roller coaster style hills and turns in my emotions for the last few days. Whatever semblance of control I felt I had has been an illusion. This is truly starting to wear me down. I will be glad to get this all over with, and in the past. I need this to be over with, now. Of course, it's a few more days.

There's no way to prepare for this. No amount of emotional fortitude will be enough for dealing with the mixed emotions that are going to hit me all at once. My world is changing as much as my son's. My son is looking forward to it, and has no inkling of doubt or fear of it. I do, though. There's nothing I can say that my son will even believe. Right now, this is just his big chance and freedom from his family. In time, he'll come to view it differently. I'll still be here, ready to help, but he just doesn't know yet what is in store. A lot will be better. It'll be worth it, but so much can't be told.

He doesn't believe us, anyway. He's discovered we're flawed humans, and so he doesn't really listen anymore. I tried to explain why another half ounce reduction in the amount of chips I got per bag, at the same price was frustrating. He just blew it off with a sarcastic, "Ooh, a whole half ounce." I tried to explain that this is the second half ounce in under a year, and with years passing quickly, I'm paying more for at least five ounces less than I used to buy in a bag. This means nothing to him, yet. He doesn't see the drops in the bucket filling fast enough to care. The slow leak in the boat is still manageable, to him.

Then he'll turn around and get upset that I didn't tell him about something else, in life. Something I knew he wouldn't listen to me about. Walking this fine line between giving him enough information and not trying to make it seem like I'm just doing it to be an annoying know-it-all gets tougher, all the time.

All I can do now is hope for the best. He was pretty much set in his ways a few years ago. The opportunities to guide him have dried up, along the way. Now I just have to hope it's enough for him to get through and find his own way without too much trouble. However, I'm going to doubt myself, and criticize myself relentlessly whenever something comes up that I now see I should have done differently. I did the best I could with what I had. I just have to hope it was enough.

Yep, not processing this as smoothly as I'd like. Look at all these words I had to write, just in the last few minutes.

The countdown keeps going.

Plans

The experiment continues. There are three concerts coming up. Louisville, next month. Cleveland and Chicago in October. Morrissey, Marillion, and VNV Nation. In the words of Douglas McCarthy, "tiny things make us live."

After all this, I must make the phone calls to figure out how to re-enter college. The dreams about being in class, taking tests, and such are getting to be more frequent than ever. Probably because I've had to do the majority of work to help my son get into NKU. I was willing to do the work because if he was a typical kid, I'd still be dealing with high school, anyway. The deal is that while he's under 18, he does school of some sort. He'd be in high school if he hadn't tested into and kept up with enough work to graduate Latin School two years early. Obviously, once he's legally an adult, I have no say. I can only hope I've impressed upon him the life that awaits him without pursuing skills through school. He's got talent, he just needs to do a bit of academic work to prove it.

For my own sense of betterment, I want to go back to school. It isn't about a career, for me, anymore. It's about proving to myself that I have it in me to complete that portion of my life that I did not. I've overcome a lot of things that were terrible mental blocks. There are patterns of symptoms littered along my timeline. One of them is the inability to return to school after my breakdown in the early 90's, when my mom died. I'd like to complete this.

It isn't about perfectionism for me, it's about completion. I need to get to the end. It doesn't even have to be perfect, as long as it's all done.

For now, though, I experiment with a usual technique in survival.  Looking forward to something in the short term is my goal, right now. I'll worry about the long term next month. This month, it's not about me. It's all about the kids. I'll get around to me, again, soon. Tonight, my experiment is all about sleep. Sleep is the BEST. Too bad my body and brain don't agree. I love sleep. I wish it loved me.

Overwhelmed

That title is pretty much all I need to say. I feel overwhelmed. The process of getting a dependent into college, and into a dorm is far more complicated than if it were myself and a billion times worse than getting a child enrolled in fifth grade. It's become more complicated because of everything being electronic. While it is nice to be able to go in and fix things immediately, it's hard to know what the little pixels on the screen are doing, until it's too late. It appears that the FAFSA stuff didn't even count, yet. It needs to count. It better count. Yeah, my son has other financial awards, but the bulk is still going to be the federal grants and the loan. I'm slightly in panic, because it appeared to be smooth until now. Now it seems like each of the various organizations and websites that have to communicate are not speaking to each other. I'm having a slight panic attack over this. Until I know that the Pell and the Stafford will go through, I am not going to be relaxed.

It's no wonder this is eating away at me and causing all kinds of brain goo. I must be kind to myself through the next two weeks. I'm the only one who will be, after all.

My youngest will go to school near my home, now that his brother is no longer nearer his dad's house. This will make the school year seem almost too easy. I've got two more years and two months until my youngest enters his teen years. I better make the most of them. The teen years are not for the faint-of-heart.

Looking back on the first time my firstborn told me he hated me, and the years of never knowing whether he would have a total screaming meltdown in public seem so far away and so much easier than the last couple years. The absolute reliance on me for so much, while psychologically withdrawing and lashing out at me to break away from me is a bigger heartbreak than I expected. He thinks he knows something. He thinks he's got it, now. And he's experienced major disappointment in me, and found me to be human. It's been walking on broken glass and then on eggshells, in turn.

I get the emails to do his financial stuff for college, while he plots and arranges being "on his own" at school. Kid, that's not being on your own. And for all your bravado, you're still relying on me more than you want to look at.

I remember the concerned meeting with the teacher, a counselor and his teacher in kindergarten because he was so quiet and didn't like to participate. I remember his first friend at school, and how he disappeared after a sleepover, where his friend's parents probed him about church and found us lacking in the whole tribal Christian faith thing. I remember how he reacted to the divorce and the final separation. I remember how he'd sneak in and sleep at the foot of my bed. I remember how he cared about his younger brother until this year.

Now he's the cool dude, too cool for family, and pretends like he never liked any of us, and doesn't need us. He's so much different than he was a year ago. He's mean to his brother, he hates anyone pointing out how well he did to graduate two years early from an advanced school, he can only talk about getting away from us all. If I quote a movie or show, he bursts out about how unoriginal I am. If I sing, he immediately insults my singing. Dude, look, I don't even do karaoke, alright? It's just me in my damned car.

Gah. There's no way to prepare for this. No matter what anyone says, the teen years are like a chipper. You go in whole and come out shredded to bits. People keep telling me it'll be over in a few years. It feels like it just goes on and on. At least in the toddler years, the cycles went in months. I hope this doesn't last. It just feels like it's been a really long year. I hated 15, and 16 seems to be just as hard. Worse, actually.

So, yeah, I'm going to give everything I can, navigating websites, filling out all the forms, making sure everything lines up, just to make sure he's got a better future than I ever even dreamed of having. I'll do it in gratitude that I have the opportunity. But my heart will break every time he acts like or says I can't possibly love him or care about him. Dude, you have no idea. None. You really are my heart pulled out of my chest and wandering about in this world away from me.

Yes. I am overwhelmed.

Reality of Thoughts

When time goes by, and it feels like no time at all, and I wake up five years older. When the same ideas have played over and over in my head, too many times. When life changes your face until you don't recognize that person you glimpsed before realizing it was a mirror. When you realize those jokes are about your peers, and you desperately cling to any shred of "that's not me" you can find.

An existential pessimism has invaded me, and every time I root it out, another seed sprouts like a magic damned beanstalk. The end is not all there is. I have lots of time to do things I find pleasurable. With or without meaning, it is all I want to do. But time is getting too fast for me to want to fight this pessimism. I'm inundated with pain when I'm not working. The short time I have when I am not in pain seems to get shorter every week. My recovery from everything is harder and takes longer. Then I'm back to the same things that bring me pain.

There is not enough relief. The time I waste just trying to get by until I feel okay is getting shorter and shorter. And I'm creeping closer, every day to 44. Will I end up like my mother? 44 was the last year she could stand here. What will happen to me in the coming year? Will it matter, anyway?

Yeah, I guess that's becoming a reality of my life, now. I'm about to hit the age she was when she took her life. (She tried before that. Really tried, I mean. Not just cries for help. But she succeeded at 44.)

Time is getting too fast, people are getting too far away, and I just don't know what the point is.

Honestly, this is where I am. All this physical pain. Pleasure doesn't seem to exist anymore. What the hell is the point, again?

Now?

Well, this week's experiment in survival has come to a close. It is true that I did not finish one task I assigned myself. I ran out of spoons. No, I did not sign up for the goat in a boat, though I would have loved to do that. I just don't know anyone with a goat. I wish I knew someone with a goat. I love goats.

One task involved a photo of the self with things that represent this state. I went with bourbon. And I couldn't just let the bourbon sit there. No. Of course not. I've done one shot a day. Then promptly fallen asleep after imbibing it. Which seems to have spurred more vivid dreams than I've had in about a year.

Also, today, I had two instances of deja vu. Yesterday I had one. It was a very brief but vivid moment of thinking I've already stood in the exact spot at work, listening to people argue or try to work out a situation that is actually novel. It seemed like the words were in the exact order I was expecting, with everyone standing where they were in some dream or vision I'd had and was remembering as it was happening. This happens to me every few months. I feel like it's a symptom of some sort, but google has given me no insight. So, I go on, wondering when the next disorientating flash is going to happen.

There is a month from now until my next scheduled happy event. Over a month. Five and a half weeks, actually. I need a new experiment in survival. The existential angst is almost caricature-esque. Like Ross in Punk's Dead. So over-the-top as to be comical, if it weren't so sad, to me. I really don't want my life to turn into a numb reservoir of meaninglessness. Again. That's where it's heading. I need to head it off at the pass.

I need ideas. After all, I need to distract myself from the impending flight my 16 year old is about to take. Two years earlier than anticipated. Going to live in a dorm on campus. I'm ready. I'm not ready. It's complicated. I need distraction!

Gishwhes Lessons

This week, I've been doing the madly fun tasks I picked out at the start of the week for GISHWHES (The Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen.) Misha Collins started this some five years ago. Being new to the Supernatural world, I didn't know this. Now I do, though. The tasks have been enlightening, each time. I'll get to post more after it ends. One of the things I've discovered through this is that I do like myself. I can honestly say I see the good, even in this week of faltering brain functions. Loyalty, imagination, compassion, passion, nurturing, safety, honesty, reliable, and comforting. These are not small qualities. They are all present in me. Some people don't have nearly as many good qualities, and yet fly through life being told they are good people.

Gathering pictures together for other projects spurred in me just how long my good has outweighed my bad. The bad is not all there is. All I have done, accomplished, survived, and created will always outweigh the bad.

A theme that constantly came up in therapy was the ability to be the person to myself that I want to find in another person. I really like me, for the most part. I am supportive of me, most of the time. When I cave in to the violent noise in my head of voices from a dead, but very loud, past, it seems more to be trying to end the pain going on that I can't control. I usually like me. When I don't, something's definitely up with the malfunctioning brain of mine. The things I used to not like about myself have all been worked through, repeatedly. The echo of the lies about myself still reverberates, sometimes. That foundation that informed me of who I was isn't true, though.

I am a completely different person than the shadow ghost people tried to cast over me. I understand why they chose to smear me in the feces of their anger, though. What I chose to disclose when I was a child was true, though. People are not demons or monsters on one extreme, nor are they angels or saints on the other extreme. Humans are animals with the ability to be gorgeous and gentle as well as brutal and carnal. I understand there are people who will never believe me. I understand that I was outnumbered and cornered by them. It was easier to vilify me than to admit what happened to me was real.

That was the foundation on which my whole life was built. One shade of black painted over the real me, and then another and another, until my whole identity was covered in a shroud that didn't really represent me. I was never fat, lazy, insincere, evil, manipulative, nor arrogant. And I sure as hell wasn't being punished by some unseen deity because of these things. There was nothing for me to search to correct about myself. Bad things didn't happen to me because I'd done anything wrong or was born somehow tainted by evil. This was a particularly tenacious lie fed to me, which took everything to overthrow.

This was sometimes a frustrating week, but worth it. For example, I learned how to make sock monkeys out of small socks, and found it far more time-consuming than I thought it would be. I've had to learn where my limits lie when it comes to what I can accomplish, as a single, working mom. I will not be able to finish one item I assigned myself. I'm disappointed. I've had to put up with a "I'm so much cooler than you" teenager's snark about it, and that bothered me more than I thought it would. However, in the end, the very act of creating, even if it wasn't great, was rewarding. I went with the laid-back option. My group have all been laid-back, and we just wanted to see what it was all about. That was a nice addition to participating. I'm not as competitive as others. This was really just to get me working on things I'd never have tried. It worked. I must definitely expand these kinds of things into my life, from now on.

I highly recommend joining us, next year. Keep an eye out for it.

The Falling Sensation

And then, one day comes along, and it all screeches back to a halt. The light that filled up your own, inner sky is gone. There are no stars, and all is covered with stormy clouds. There's not even lightning. It's just a damp, cold rain falling all over you in blackness. So you get out a flashlight. It works for a bit, as you aim it at short, funny videos, a new flavor of bourbon, or favorite songs. The battery is going out, though. It flickers and sputters out, again. Into a damp, dark abyss you go.

Sometimes, you're lucky, and you don't hit a solid bottom. You merely fall. Eventually, you become accustomed to the sensation. It's expected, routine, and humdrum. You just wait until you turn around and feel like you're falling up, when the sunrise finally comes. Maybe you even see a seagull in the distance, denoting all other life has not died and left you isolated.

Occasionally, though, you hit a big, pointy rock. And it hurts. It brings out all the failures and regrets you thought you managed to seal in a giant pit with a Devil's Trap over it. Those demon voices slip through, though, and it just hurts all over.

I'm just falling, right now. I have a few days of this to go, as it has always been in a cycle I just never paid attention to, before a few years ago. I don't believe there are any rocks to hit, this time. I'll adjust. I'll manage. I always do. Whether I really want to, or not.