Living With War

For the past seven days I have been having chest pains. First I thought it was lung cancer, but then it seemed to concentrate in my chest around my heart. When I finally went to the doctor this afternoon and told him he said "love?"

ha.

Thankfully, it was also not heart-related, just a stressed out cartilege. "Hallelujah!" I said, raising my hands to the heavens, topless on the table. The doc just laughed with me, and the day suddenly got warmer and the world became a little kinder. Nice to know I have a bit more time. Thanks to everybody who indulged my little psychotic trip towards death while keeping a straight face. We can laugh again.

I love it when rock stars stick it to the man, the way Neil does in Living With War.

Nobody Loves You When You're Down & Out

I hate to use the blog as a forum for self-pitying whining, but I fear I have reached the place in my life where that is all I have to offer.

It's true that I have a (deserved) reputation for melodrama, but part of that stems from the fact that people don't believe me when I tell them things that are not super-easy to deal with - like, I'm insane, I'm depressed, I'm lonely. I'm melodramatic to make a point. It doesn't usually work...

I have learned, over the years, that people don't want to hear that shit - and I can't really say that I blame them, because for the most part there is nothing they can do about it. So I try very hard to keep my black moods to myself. Lately I have found that this means keeping to myself quite a bit, which is discouraging and sort of perpetuates a cycle of misery that is hard to bust out of.

Positivity breeds positivity, but where does the original burst of positivity come from? I am overflowing with cynicism, distrust and apathy. Not good qualities for somebody who is prone to loneliness and self pity.

When the chips are down, you always have your family to fall back on, and when the chips have been down (I mean really really down) for me, my family has always come through in ways that bowl me over. But my mother (in particular) seems to have perfected the art of sucking the wind from my sails. I have learned a lot about dealing with people in the years of psychotherapy I have submitted to in order to try to deal with myself (still not always easy). I try not to be too hard on my mom, I know she has done A LOT for me, given up a lot for me and would generally do anything for me. But the moments when she turns into a spiteful, hateful child still make my psycho switch flip on, and in seconds we can go from Norman Rockwell to Norman Bates.

Not a pretty picture.

April has been a fucking ridiculous month. So far I have hated it, and I will be glad to see it go on Sunday. Get the fuck out of here, April. I'm so done with you.

There has just got to be something good to hold on to. I'm so sick of feeling bad all the time.

Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning

I have not settled into the new place yet. It's coming along. The darkness got a hold of me for a couple of weeks, but I am determined.