Thursday, October 07, 2004

I have just proven that money does not buy happiness, but you can be miserable in much nicer places.
I just spent what still was about the best time that anyone could have, a long weekend pretty much doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. I was also able to pretty much send my own mind into a tailspin of self-pity and depression. Realizing what was happening seemed only to exacerbate my anger and self-loathing. Even in the company of my best and closest friends, I managed to isolate myself to the point of loneliness. To those who were present who may read this, I am truly sorry. This is not easy, but I'm trying to honestly understand what is going on inside my own head, and writing sometimes helps that. I've been wondering what it's like, if Van Gogh could feel himself being pulled into (and out of) his own maelstrom of mental illness. Please don't worry, I'm not seeing swirling colors or anything like that. Then, at least, maybe my heirs could make some money.
I have all of the rationale in front of me. I know that merely walking away from one's everyday doesn't make it go away, but trying to act as if everything is just ducky for more that about 3 days makes me feel like someone who'se eaten a bean & cheese burrito, 2 hours into a tupperware party. After a while, it just hurts. Is my behavior just selfishness? (I'd really appreciate it if you didn't answer that for me). When can I no longer just "pull myself up by my own bootstraps", is it up to someone else to determine that I've had enough? Do I just need to find a "Pity Party" somewhere (Maybe I'll rename this blog). It certainly looks foolish and selfish, with two days of perspective, but in the midst of it, there seems to be no way out, no medication or crying jag, or beating two rocks together to mitigate it.
Why am I so afraid when someone does ask me , "you alright?" that telling them it's not will either turn me into a dishrag, or that there's no point in describing what seem to be the unchangeable ironies of my existence. No one wants to be needy.
**This post has been festering in the draft stage for nearly a week. Unresolved as it is, I'm going to just throw it up on the wall and move on. I don't particularly like it, but then I don't particularly like much, at the moment. Thanks for hanging in.***