Today was a therapy day, a rare Monday session as opposed to the more usual Tuesday.
My therapist assures me that we will be able to settle down to solid Tuesday mornings at 8:15 for the foreseeable future, come February. Good. I like predictability in my life. It lets me settle into a routine and focus my energies in the right place at the right time. I am not the kind of person who does “sudden” very well.
Heck, even the fact that I got my ride to and from said therapist’s appointment from my dear friend Felicity instead of my roomie Joe threw me off far more than it rightfully should. Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful to Felicity for stepping in when Joe was just too damned tired from work to do it (damn graveyard shift work) and I always find her company extremely enjoyable. We have great conversations full of wit and wonder and it’s a pleasure to be around her.
But still, there was a part of me that sullenly resented the disruption in my expectations, and felt like Joe had somehow abandoned me, which he very clearly did not. He discharged his responsibility to me by arranging for Felicity to take me, and even giving her some gas money for her trouble.
But that is the rational truth, and the inner world of our inner children is not a rational place. Emotional logic is the only governing principle, and as unfair as it was, part of me thought “oh, I’m not important enough to bother staying up go, he has to fob me off on someone else. Lovely. ”
That’s a pretty big sore spot, isn’t it? I am one tightly wound artistic type under the affable and laid back exterior. I get the feeling that if I ever get into a relationship, I am going to be kind of a high maintenance handful to deal with. I can take offense at or be hurt by what are objectively tiny things because I am so god damned sensitive and fragile.
Oh well, comes with being such a hothouse flower, I suppose. And like a hothouse orchid, I am very delicate and sensitive, but rare and beautiful as well.
Well worth it, to the right gardener.
Right now, I am feeling down. I think I am just a little behind on my sleep, as I am feeling rather sleepy and am looking forward to curling up in bed for a long nap on this cold and blustery night.
Dealing with the sort of things stirred up during therapy probably is not helping my mood either. We talked a fair bit about how hard it is to live with depression, how I often feel like I am barely keeping my head above water in the sea of my self-loathing and depression and pain, and how sometimes I get these surges of frustration and rage and feeling trapped. The sort of feeling that might make a person do something crazy just to escape, just to change something, to feel something, to make the world feel real again.
Plus, there’s the whole caffeine thing. The main reason I didn’t sleep that well during the day is that I had a liter of diet cola last night, and so I was feeling kinda perky earlier.I really want to start getting my work done while I am up instead of doing these writing jags when I am arguably at my lowest.
And the weather. All cold and dark and windy and starless. Very goth weather, great weather for interminable brooding on the parapet of your Gothic mansion while staring down at the jagged rocks on the seashore way down below and asking them silently for permission to leave this terrible void called life.
Did I say goth? I meant emo.
But for whatever reason, I am feeling sort of blue. All dark and lonely and darkly contemplative. Times like this, I just want to hide from the world.
I am currently around half an hour into the movie Cold Souls, starring critical favorite Paul Giamatti as himself in a world where you can have your soul extracted and stored, thus relieving you of its burden of emotional difficulties, bad memories, neurotic complications, and so on.
It is an interesting premise and I am quite curious to see where they go with it. It’s kind of hard to define exactly what attributes of person belong to soul as opposed to heart, mind, and so on. But the idea of leaving the part of you that has all the bullshit in it behind is intriguing.
Of course, it’s not that simple. Getting rid of one’s soul because it hurts sometimes to have one is kind of like getting your arm removed because you have tennis elbow. Sure, it solves the problem, but it creates a heck of a lot more of them, especially when you try to serve.
Still, that is probably also a thing contributing to my broody mood. Thinking about the whole notion of souls and problem and feeling a great burden of pain and trauma and anxiety and just how much bad shit I am hauling around, and how deep this hole is in which I live, and which I deeply want to escape while also being crushingly dependent on it as a means of escaping my mortal enemy, the real world.
So yeah. It’s a dark and broody night of the soul for me right now. Hopefully, when I am done writing here and get my chance to nap, I will get some good deep sleep and wake up feeling less down and more perky.
I have great energies stored within myself, and I just need to learn to trust them and follow them and let them be expressed instead of listening to the voice of dysthymia which harshly penalizes even the thought of action and instead tries to force you to do nothing, and tells you that is the only way to be “safe”.
But you can’t be safe in Hell.