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Lit – My Own Worst Enemy

Certain people in my life stay. And it’s only a few probably because my tolerance for drama is low. That isn’t to say that I don’t create drama. I’m sure if you asked my sons they’d tell you that I am difficult to manage. I don’t like it this way. I am learning that it is the way I am. I have been trying to change how I am my whole life because I hate the way I am. When i see it in other people I just want to punch them. Or at least get far far away from them. This feeling of repugnance is one of the basic reasons I do what I do. Isolate. Avoid. Become sullen “for no reason”. Change plans at the drop of a dime. Stop calling people. Become angry “for no reason”. Get that struck look from out of nowhere. I can list more but it’s 4am and I need to get this out then try and get some sleep.

Do other people experience a high rate of people abandoning them for what seems like no reason? I mean where a person will act normal then at the drop of a dime they cut all ties and look at you as if you’re dead or you are diseased? I mean I’m not crying about this now. This has been happening all my life. I consider myself to be better for it because I don’t get close to people or trust them anymore. Even family members. They’ve betrayed me and abandoned me when I’ve needed them most. Acted like I was a pariah, that last person the gym teacher forced the last team to accept because they wouldn’t pick them. This has always been my life. I’ve told myself that I don’t need them (society, family, classmates, whoever,) when I know that in some respects that I do. When I was really out of touch with reality I believed that a alien race was coming to Earth to rescue me and all I had to do was maintain an alter with special objects and candles lit every night. Now I know I am not of typical humanity as I see through the cracks that humans try to clog up with denial and BS. All the crap they tell themselves. All the things they must buy. All the rules that order their weak lives. It looks to me that they are madder than I.

When I don’t regularly take my meds or when my meds are not working (because sometimes when I am taking something else it interferes with my psych meds,) people see me. I see that they see me. You know how you learned to walk through a crowd with your eyes down or vaguely unfocused so no one could catch your look? And in the corner of your eye you tend to spot those people, the undesirables so you can steer your way clear of them? I’m the person you’re looking for. I look lost. I’m aware that the crowd is a living thing of itself. I’m drowning in humanity looking for a soul, a port in the storm to lead me away from these consuming insects that eat away the little sanity that floats in the air. My nerves are exposed and I am overwhelmed by the anxiety of the waves of caution that everyone is sending out. No one wants to be touched in this boundary free throng yet the limits are boundless and the souls shrinking. It’s an ugly passion of dancing disgust that everyone participates in everyday then when they go home denies they are a part of it. Oh no they are the unique snowflake that danced down the street floating over cars and bars and maintaining their specialness. Aren’t you special? Of course you are. But your not because you’ve never had to ride the little yellow bus, you’ve never spent a night in the hospital that no one visits with flowers and  cards. You’re just a lying sack of sh!t. And that’s why sometimes you flick a coin or dollar at the cardboard cup of someone sitting in the sidewalk. And if you don’t you feel angry for feeling obligated to feel guilty.

I am skirting the border of my sanity lately. I’m taking my meds. Well except Thursday. I forgot but that’s not bad as sometimes when I forget. Plus I was cleaning the house for an inspection. I’ve been sick for about 2 weeks now. I sh!t my pants earlier this week. There’s nothing more pathetic than sh!tting one’s own pants. It makes me want to cry “Mama!” and go to bed in fresh pajamas after being cleaned up. But no. I stood in the shower and cleaned myself, pants and underwear off after filling the toilet bowl. A lovely 2 am spent wishing I was anywhere but where I was doing almost anything but what I was doing at that moment. And when I think of it that next day is when my urine started to smell like zinc was in it. I know I’m sick when that smell comes. I think the lithium isn’t getting processed like it’s suppose to. Sometimes in the summer I smell that smell as my body sweats out the salt that keeps me sane. Sh!t and p!ss and medication. Sounds like a good punk rock tune.

So work’s been closed the past 2 days. Neither I nor the manager wants to go in. We’re both sick (she’s probably got what I have.) And that other woman who’s been causing drama has decided that she’s not coming back to work. In fact her doctor has denied her her medication (Clonopin,) and she’s half way over to chicken city anyway. She’s told the manager that she’s moving to California even though she doesn’t know anyone there, doesn’t have a job or an apartment. Nope, she’s going to live on the streets. And I’m sure she sees gold and fruits laid out before her. It’s been a hard winter on everyone this year. The cats are going loopy.

Me. I’ve been planning feasts of Chinese/Japanese foods, road trips and exercise machines. Gorking out on the boob tube and reading “John Dies In The End”. I haven’t left the house since Wednesday. I have to get dry cat food because you know Skippy, Titan and Simon are starting to give me the hairy eyeball whenever I make myself a plate to eat. And I’ve been “good”. I say that with the apostrophes because I am actually not being successfully good. I am having serious anxiety issues and can’t leave the house. It takes me more that an hour now to prepare myself to even think of going somewhere so going out to get food from a restaurant is something I can’t make myself do. Oh the arguments I have in my head trying to get myself something to eat. I just cook something even if it takes me 5 hours like it did last night. I made enchiladas and ate them at 9 pm. I started with the fantasies of chinese food, I could order from Dragon Place they’re close, no their dumplings are not as good as the ones at Peking Garden. I could drive to Wally World and get a big @ss bag of Tai Pei frozen dumplings and gorge on them, OH YEAH! No the van is covered with snow and my ankle high bootlets are stinky from sweat and I have to finish up cleaning the house for the inspection. Does any chinese place deliver? NO because I live on the @ss end of a seasonal town in New England.

If I had an imaginary friend do you think I could just go to a restaurant and eat whatever I want? I can’t go by myself because the eyes grow whenever I walk into a store or a restaurant. The saving grace of a store is I can busy myself with the focus of buying items that I need. It is something I have to do whereas eating at a restaurant is not necessary. Whatever is living in my brain is tenacious and unforgiving and will punish me if I do not follow it’s directives. I am always f^cked no matter what I do. And yes, I have done DBT and CBT. I know the rational of the things I go through. I know the serious waste of time that it causes me. I know the self talk logistics and how good they sound to @-holes that don’t have this thing lodged in their brains. It knows me well better than anyone else on Earth. It knows my logic, my arguments and it hears me reason so it has the jump on me. If I’m lucky I might freak out and run it ragged but I end up asleep having run my own self ragged. Sometimes it’s nice to me and it lets me think that we’re in accordance and I can get things done. But it never lasts. The pain and fear come back. The cruel arguments and phobias trip me up and drop me down and I claw myself up as far as I can go.

How long have I been typing?

Yeah, so it’s been a bad winter. S and I are planning a road trip in April. How do I get out of visiting H then? Can I make more money? We might go to Lake George then S and I and her daughter. I’m not sure if this will be a good thing. I’ve gotten to hating other peoples’ children. Sometimes I think I’m my own worse enemy.

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