Friday, February 10, 2012
anxiety, &c., and things of that nature and so forth
hey guys. i've been struggling the last couple days. i don't know what the deal is. i'm here in piqua and have everything i could need, basically, and i do mean basically. but the mood swings have become confusing. today is 8 months and 3 weeks. i'm not bragging, i don't want a medal or anything, but these fucking mood swings send me into these little panic attacks. i suppose i could find some meetings, but it's not like that exactly. i don't know. there are times when i feel much happier than i think i deserve to be. euphoria, almost. you know, finding a sweet stash of wood for several days, hauling it across the field, moonpie racing by me, happy as can be, snow falling on cedars (never read that), she just running cause she can, trying to cut me off like she's getting the better of me, which she is to my delight. fuck, i don't know, i've done enough thinking for 3 lifetimes and i've gotten to a little place where doing is more pleasurable than it's been... shit, ever. i'm alone, and i'm much happier here by myself than i was staying with al and his family. it's complicated. what isn't complicated is life here. it's becoming elegantly simple and meaningful. so what the fuck is it with my stupid brain that i feel like i need an off switch still? i don't crave alcohol at all, and i don't want to drink because it turns me into someone i don't recognize, and it turns me into someone i recognize all too well. weird: i do miss pot, of all things. it's cold and getting colder, yet this stove rules all and i don't mind a life built around it even on the worst of days. then what's with all the angst? christ. anyways, mitt romney is a cunting whorebag, which makes me wonder if my troubles are karma related. hmm...
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it's fear and doubt. i'm happy, but have i forgotten how to be happy and it's freaking me out? or, what's worse: my niece's confessed hatred of the first lady because mrs. o'bama personally took tater tots off the school menu, or my brother's encouragement of it, which by the way goes against everything our mom and dad stood for?
I'm slowly learning how to keep balance. I've always liked the horses and chariot analogy, to learning to take control of onself. I also like meditation and the control it gives me. But I can't say I'm all that good at it. Last two nights of raging insomnia culminated in me sleeping through most of today. But at least I made it to today.
Anxiety. I've been getting hammered with it a lot lately. It gets to a point where I can shake it by doing stuff, but it's those idle moments where I'm just sitting and thinking that the near-panic sets in. The mind starts doing shit on its own, and there is no fucking off switch. I feel like I want to talk to someone, and yet when someone I love, like one of my sisters, calls to just chat, I don't want to tell them about it. I keep it bottled up. Weird, vivid dreams too. Like having a conversation with my ex-wife, whom I haven't spoken with in 22 years. Fear and doubt. Worries about money. Worries about business. The future. Just worries. And brother, that shit is not good for us. It's exhausting. Not only that, stress kills. I'm not drinking at all, and I've found that not smoking weed is a big help. Never had issues with pot making me paranoid before, but I think it's one of those drugs that amplifies whatever mood we're in so if we're not in a good place, it's probably best to leave that shit alone too.You ever get the feeling that shit happens for a reason? The guy I used to buy pot from, Marty the painter, got arrested in January. According to his police report, he sold between 15-100 grams of a controlled substance (blow) to what other friends tell me was an undercover Cook Country Sheriff. SMILE As soon as I heard about it, I started thinking this is a perfect time to quit the pot since I don't know any other dealers, and I also started to think about how shit can be much worse than how it is for me. I could be facing 6-30 years in jail for a friggin' Class X felony. That helps me feel a little better, until I find something else to stress about. The off switch is what I keep thinking about. And the only real off switch I can come up with involves ...well, ya know,...that long good-night. Never really considered it before, and I'm not now either, but when the stress level, the anxiety bordering on full-blown panic attacks creep in, I can better understand how someone could do it. I can imagine someone, say...Marty the painter, who is looking at his life as one giant shit storm from the minute he wakes up in his cell at Cook County jail, until the minute he goes back to sleep. He's gotta feel like death couldn't be much worse than life. Since I don't believe in an afterlife, I can't get to that point, but I can certainly imagine walking away from everything here, and just vanishing into the wilderness somewhere. But that's a problem too, since my family would all freak out and worry themselves sick about me. Besides, there's no internets in the wilderness. Oh well, one day at a time Swit and Iso, for all of us.
One minute at a time. If a minute is too long to endure, one second at a time. And when the pain passes, let go of time, so the peace seems timeless.
I love you guys.
You're right. The moments of peace can be euphoric. I didn't mean to sound so woeful. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I am. You are a very strong person Iso, and I admire you greatly.
Honestly, guys, I love you all. And I mention that there are very few people in the world who couldn't use a little therapy.
switters, honey, I'm so proud of you but remember a) life is never perfect, it can't be and isn't supposed to be and b) you don't have to do it by yourself when you just can't. Pain is a permanent condition of the human race, and our fundamental goal as humans is to persist in its face. I've finally realized that is the thing, and my mother's greatest ability. Survival, with the odd song in your heart, and without bitterness.
Iso you remain an inspiration. Schmutz, baby, think about talking to someone, seriously. If you find yourself wanting to talk to someone and then editing, you probably should talk. Mwah.
I love you all too.
Anxiety has kicked my butt for years. But now, lately, it's more of a dance. However, don't be looking for us on "SYTYCD" because I suck at dancing.
But still.
Meditation helps. Small increments. I do 5-7 minutes a few times a day. Makes the day longer in a good way. Makes the sucky part shorter. Don't know how that works. Don't care.
By the authority vested in me by the State of Florida I pronounced two people man and wife yesterday. O. M. G.
I cannot wait to pronounce a man and a man or a woman and a woman. I will keep getting my notary renewed to one day do that. Right here in the worst state of America.
Reading a book on prayer. Lady said a funny thing. Prayer doesn't work we say there's no God. But if we turn on a light we don't say there's no electricity. We say somethings wrong with the light. So, I'm going to think about that. And prayer.
And you know, my understanding of God is pretty different from most people's. Especially Mitt's. And Rick's. And Newt's. And all of the fucking Catholic bishops in America.
So there.
Stay warm. Love that you find a stash of wood.
I like Adele.
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