Being a nice person

I'm on this solitary path right now. Not having a working phone first made me lonely. After a while, it seemed essential. You see, I'm in the midst of my third or fourth mid-life crisis. Yes, I know that I'm only 26, and it's a little too early. However, I sure did grow up awfully fast so I feel this is only a natural progression.

Discovering that you are nuts is a big stone to swallow. I dated a bipolar man 7 or 8 years ago, and I remember feeling at the time that this guy was loony and I'm surely not like that. I always thought I just suffered from hereditary, periodic episodes of depression. As I became a parent, and suffered from an awful marriage, I began to realize that my own highs really did exist.

You see, I am superwoman. Sometimes. My lovely Charleston-living friend used to call me She-Ra. And that really described me when I'm on a high. Operating at super-speeds makes me feel competent. Efficient. Smarter and higher functioning than most. And yes, people notice and comment upon it.

But they also comment upon my lows. My old pirate boss used to tell me he could tell when I didn't feel well. I didn't talk much, and would sit pretty quietly all day. Mostly trying to focus, even though my mind was contemplating darkness.

It wasn't until I was locked in the loony bin that I realized I've been self-medicating my entire life. Last night, after Z and I discussed hiding the morphine bottle from me, I explained that only when I'm on a deep low do I want to throw myself into drugs. Booze. Cocaine. Opium. Heroin. Morphine. Methadone. Whatever. I'm desperately craving a numbness here, you see. Numb from the anguish and the sadness that accompanies my lows. A kind of safe, warm bubble that will protect me from those creeping dark suicidal thoughts that make me want to throw myself off a bridge.

The shrink(s) have put me on a "mood stabilizer" - a pretty high dose. They're slowly taking me off traditional antidepressants, after we discussed how they make my highs and lows more severe.

For the first time, I feel like I'm beginning to function normally. I wake up and get dressed. I'm working out six days a week, and eating like a normal person. I still don't sleep without help, but I'm not oversleeping during a rough patch - the old 16 or 18 hour "naps". And I'm contemplating how to put my life together in a way that makes me happy and meets my desires for love, ambition, and friendship.

I do have a new phone, by the way. I haven't been able to put many phone numbers in it. Basically I need to have an operating phone all the time to check voicemails from recruiters. I just don't have time to retrace my steps, take my phone apart, stick my SIM chip in Z's phone, and write down all of my address book.

So if I haven't called, this should partly explain why.

A. I need to be alone in order to pull myself out of the mess I'm in.
B. I didn't have a working phone.
C. I probably don't have your number.

Now on the subject of hurting people's feelings:

One day the shrinko man and I discussed what thoughts race through my head when I'm depressed. I explained that in my mind, I'm re-enacting the worst experiences of my life. He asked for more detail, and I told him that my "scenes" were usually when I had hurt someone's feelings.

I do it a lot. I don't know if that is normal, but it's definitely one of my character flaws. There are usually several ways in which this occurs.

1. I open my mouth and discover that evil things come out. As a child my doctors thought I had Asberger's Syndrome ( a form of autism ) because I didn't understand what was appropriate to say and what wasn't. Inability to function socially on a normal level. I don't know if that is true, but I certainly do know that when I say something awful, I don't mean it to be perceived that way. My ex-boyfriend/best friend CF was really good at talking me through what I was feeling when I said creepy things. He usually pointed out that the thoughts behind those words were illogical and creepy on their own. So I would quit talking. I'm doing a little bit of that now.

2. As a selfish human being I hide a lot. I don't know how to ask for emotional support. I read something recently about how it is our responsibility as a friend to contact our friends when they are in a low spot. When we don't hear from them. Well I'm in a low spot but I'm only semi-interested in talking to others. Mostly because I don't want to talk about the low spot I'm in. Stupid, huh?

I'm actually a lot better about it. I've done a pretty shitty job of maintaining some friendships, because I disappear. Poof. Gone. Don't see her or hear from her for a couple of years.
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Basically I hurt someone recently for all of the reasons above, and I'm terribly sorry. If I blog about you please don't be hurt by it. Most of the crap I write here isn't reality, it's just an explanation of the television-like facets of my life. I only describe people close to me who are like cartoon characters themselves. You are a truly unique individual if I felt the need to ruminate on your character.

Z doesn't read my blog anymore, he says it hurts his feelings. I constantly tell him that I don't mean to do so. He says he understands, that this is my vent. I agree somewhat, but I do think it's important to explain that this blog has only touched upon the most extreme events, people, or places. Much of this doesn't document the little boring stuff that makes up a life. The stupid details that nobody really wants to hear, because it's already pissing them off as their head rambles through it.

How you are irritated the toaster always burns the bread. How you hate cleaning the toilet. How you take the same route to work everyday so you don't have to pay attention to driving. How that first sip of liquor tastes like a spiritual experience and a coming home to Jesus. How the paper-towel refiller in the restroom makes the mistake of filling it too full, not understanding that it will waste paper towels.

I'm bored by these trivialities, and I try not to pay too much attention to them. I'm determined that I am not going to die thinking about the pork loin in my oven. Or the grout I didn't scrub.

Please don't be offended. I love all of my family, and I sure hope you'll put up with me. If I'm not very good at calling, understand that I'm either in a rut and don't want to talk or I don't have your phone number. If I don't send emails, understand that I'm either in a rut or I don't have your address.

I'm sorry for my faults. I hope you'll love me anyway.



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