Stumbling out of the gate

Woke up at 11:38 am. Then drifted off again, and woke up at 2:26 pm.

That was a bit of a jolt! I hate it when I sleep past noon. It always makes me feel like I am wasting my day. Like I missed the bus in a really big way and now I will be struggling to catch up for the rest of the day.

This isn’t the result of some moral lesson I was taught at some point, or some abstract sense of punitive self-discipline.

If only. If I had that, I might get a lot more done.

No. it’s more a matter of a fear of missing out or of being left behind by life. I don’t like feeling like I have fallen behind. It was the single overriding factor that got my ass out of bed and on the way to class every day when I was at Kwantlen and VFS.

Even when all other motivations failed, all I had to do was imagine all my classmates going on ahead leaving me behind as they learned and I didn’t, and the resulting panic would get my out of bed and into action.

Comes from a childhood where I was always in danger of literally being left behind because nobody paid much attention to me and so I ended up feeling like it was my job to make sure I did not get abandoned somewhere.

Plus, I will admit, I had a tendency to wander a little. And sometimes a lot, when it came to those times I have described before when my parents would take me with them someplace and I would get bored and nobody was paying any attention to me, so I would wander off, a happy little cloud drifting around taking in the sights.

Leaving my poor parents to freak out when they realized they had no idea where I was. They would find me and I would be like, “I wasn’t lost! I knew exactly where I was!”/

Because kids lack perspective.

To be honest, though, I have no idea how much of my childhood sense of total isolation was caused by events in the world and how much was caused by the thick and icy wall of emotional armor that my childhood depression caused.

Tbhe exact ration doesn’t matter, I suppose. There were definitely times when I was actively rejected,.ejected, beaten down, pushes out, given the cold shoulder, disinvited, unincluded, and beaten soundly by life.

And people. Mostly people.

In manjy ways, my choldhood days seem almost unreal to me now. I find it hard to relate to that level of passivity now. I am much feistier now. and a lot more capable of making my needs known and demanding they be met.

It’s taken me 40 yars to get to this point, though. And I am still not exactly an expert at it. I still have a very strong tendency to retreat into myself rather than deal with things.

And that is, more or less, the definition of being a loser.

Losers quit. They give up. They escape, rather than deal. Winners fight. Losers flee.

I’d rather be a winner. I think the potential exists in me. I have a strong combative side and a huge well of stubborn defiance that, at least on paper, could be turned into the sort of “fuck you, I am getting what I want” attitude towards life that could prove to be highly productive in getting shit done.

With the more than slight chance of turning me into a beligerent asshole who takes a kill crush and destroy attitude towards life where I am  ready willing and able to do whatever it takes to pursue my own needs.

But how much do I really value being a nice person? Maybe if I was a little less nice, I would be a lot happier, because I would feel like I had some way of protecting myself from the crushing forces of my own sensitivity. Right now, I often feel like other people’s concerns and identities cna override mine at any point, leading me to isolate myself.

Well, one of many things that cause me to isolate myself, anyhow.

I have this vision of myself as a happy, confident, charming, dazzling person – more or less a real life version of Fruvous in human form – and I want to be that person so bad.

I could be pretty frigging amazing like that, to be honest. A real force of nature.

But there’s so much emotional garbage in the way. So much stagnant toxic water to clear from my system. So much radioactive sludge to purge.

I feel so weak lately. Like there is nothihng solid within me to push against in order to get things done. Like all my motivation just disappears into a seamless void and I end up hiding from the world instead when I try to get myself going.

I feel so very, very, very cold inside. And all I want is for that to end so I can feel alive again. I don’t know how I iced up inside like this. I know that I was not always thois way and that at some point in the not that distant past, I felt a lot more alive and warm and whole and strong and connected with life.

But lately, I have felt so bad. I have felt like all I truly wanted to do was crfawl into bed and sleep forever.

Even reading sometimes makes me feel exposed.

It makes me wish I could just vanish for a while. Not be anywhere at all. Hide in nonexistence until I could figure things out and get my head on straight.

Yeah, I know that makes no sense. Whatever.

I feel like I have drifted into interstellar space and it;s only  matter of time before the clutching cold of the void overtakes me and my life support fails.

And I don’t want to go. I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to burst into uprorious life  like a new star and shine bright and hard for all the world to see.

But first… someone needs to defrost me.

Because I’m dying out here all alone.

And nobody can reach me.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

 

 

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