After hitting a low point, clawing myself out for a few months into the light of the “real world” only to detonate myself and a few innocent people around me (not literally for those that might be frowning or gasping in a concerned way), I’m back here “blogging” and reading other people’s “blogs.” Melodramatic opening, I know. Sorry, not sorry. I’m at the bottom looking up again and wondering how the hell do “normal” people do it? (Begin “Appeasing Statement.” No offense to serious bloggers. I’m not implying that the blogging sphere is necessarily “the bottom.” Just that I end up here when I personally hit “the bottom” emotionally. End of “Appeasing Statement.”)
Time for some self reflection, poetry and art to cheer me up, bolster me for the next big failure of my life. Haha. Damn is it hard not to be self-depreciating. Maybe I should take one of those courses that help you suppress your “id” and become one with the world around you. Hard not to see that as willfully guzzling the poison that up until recently you’ve only been sipping. Do I sound like I’m whining? Don’t answer that, I might be forced to come through the screen and slap you.
Some random thoughts I had to get out. I’ll post some poems over the next few weeks if anyone cares to read them, doubt they’ll be much good but they are, shall we say, therapeutic.
Sorry you read this thinking it might be entertaining, but then feeling as hollow and disappointed as a child leaving a cut rate amusement park with nothing more than sticky hands and a ragged teddy bear missing an eye to show for your efforts when you reached the last few sentences without even uttering a single amused grunt.
You write “I am worth it” all over a blank piece of paper in order to convince yourself of that fact. Twenty minutes later you have a cramp in your wrist and a very desperate and sad looking piece of paper. The worst part is, this isn’t even a suggestion from your therapist. It was your idea. Hahaha. Funny.
Anyway, here’s to hoping everyone else is having a better day.
I had a dream last night. Some people like this kind of stuff, find meaning in it. I’m not sure if I do, but dreams can be an entertaining break from the monotony of my life.
Some background first- I used to live, oh I mean, work at a credit union in the mortgage department. I was there for four years- longer than that in various positions within the CU, but about four years in mortgages. I had a pretty nifty boss, but boy she let you have it if you stepped out of line. I respected her for that. I no longer work at the credit union, for reasons unrelated to anything in the following dream.
I’m back at work at the credit union, my boss Lydia (not her real name) is at her desk. Only it’s not the credit union, it’s her home. And it’s not a desk, it’s a kitchen sink. Only, it is a desk, too. Sometimes. My little brother is also there, somewhere. I have a desk of my own, along the back wall of what must be a kitchen. There’s counters, tiled floors, bright lighting. But there’s also filing cabinets, and I’m pretty sure half the room was a forest.