Sometimes I can feel myself drifting.
It’s no big secret that I have done nothing but drift for most of my life. I drift through time like an obese jellyfish, doing only that minimal amount of contraction of my blubbery body needed to stay roughly in place, eating whatever happens to float my way, living in my own little tide pool, doing nothing to guide or create my own destiny.
Unlike most drifters, I don’t even get a lot of travel and experience out of my rudderless life. I am too muh of a coward for that. This tide pool of mine doesn’t lead anywhere and that is how I like it.
Well that was weird.
So I ordered some KFC. I order in for supper every Saturday, if I can afford it. It’s kind of a treat for myself. Something to make me feel like I can have nice things.
And this week, I ordered KFC. I hadn’t one so in a long long time because the previous time I had it,.it made me sick.
Not wretchedly so. It was mostly just a gross greasy feeling in my stomach. But still, it made me reluctant to get it again.
But this week, the craving overcame me and I took the risk.
I’ve eaten my KFC and so far, I feel fine.
The weird part came when I sat down to blog. Normally, it goes like this : I order my foodstuffs, then blog till it arrives.
Usually, it takes around 30 to 45 minutes for food to arrive, and that is plenty of time for me to make a big dent in the day’s bloggination.
In fact, sometimes it’s even enough time for me to finish.
But this time the order showed up super early. So early that I only wrote 141 words before it was time to drop that horizontal line into the entry and go get my food.
And when I went out to get my food, I found out that Joe and Julian did not go to Joe’s parents’ place to play board games like they usually do on Saturday evenings.
So instead of eating my KFC while finishing the day’s blogging, I ate it with my friends watching the Colbert Show and the Daily Show off of the PVR.
So here I am now, two hours after I started blogging, sitting down at this ol’ computer of mine to pick up where I left off and keep on bloggin’.
So it’s back to the tide pool for me, I guess.
Where was I? Oh right.
I am not a courageous drifter. I don’t explore. I have felt wanderlust many times in my life but my depression has always squashed that emotion like it’s a ten ton weight dropped from twenty thousand feet.
Were that not so, I could see myself being somewhat of a wanderer. Honestly, it would probably do me a lot of good to go out into the world and explore and learn about myself and how best to get along with people.
And not just to get along. To connect. I have a very strong desire to connect with people. I have been all alone in my head for so very very long. I long for the feeling of connection with others that would make me feel safe.
But that’s a mighty tall order. I learned that at VFS. I have serious social issues that only show up when I am actively trying to relax around others and connect with them. Enormous walls of anxiety and mistrust spring up out of nowhere, and waves of hostility and resentment and even loathing wash through me as my mind tries to figure out how to properly interface with these emotions.l
It can’t tune them in. It doesn’t know the frequency.
And the thing is, I know that there’s no reason for it. I know that inside me is a person who is not only not socially awkward but actually quite charismatic and pursuasive and a whiz at moving in social space.
But all the fear and the anger and the bad bad memories get in the way. And I have tried just ignoring those emotions and pretending I am normal but that’s like trying to ignore a hurricane when you are right in the middle of it.
So I might seem calm and bright and friendly on the outside, but on the inside, it’s an emotional fireworks factory fire.
No wonder I have such a hard time connecting with people.
I want to. But I can’t. I don’t know how, and my disease makes it hard to get the kind of experiences I would need in order to learn.
I would need to be around very patient and understanding people whom I felt I could trust enough to believe that they will not judge or reject me when things get awkward.
Ideally, they would also be highly sensitive and articulate people would could explain what went wrong in a language I can understand.
Call it rehab for dorks.
Without that, I honestly don’t know what my path forward would be,. The depression is strong in me lately. Remember that sad feeling that makes me turn away and say “no” and not be able to continue?
It’s very close to the surface lately.
Everything I think of that would get me back on the right track, that feeling vetos and torpedos. I hate the authority it has over my life, but it’s so strong.
So I guess what I need to do is find a weak spot in this wall of denial and see if what little countering force I can muster is enough to put me through.
If it is, then maybe I can tackle tghe issue of my physical health. I know it’s poor I know I could be healthier and happier if I got my act together.
But I am too sick to look after myself properly, and nobody else is going to do it.
So I guess I will just… fall apart.
I will tal
k to you nice people again tomorrow.