I don’t feel comfortable. I can’t get comfortable. There is only relative comfort; that which is least uncomfortable. Nakedness. Bed. Screens. Comics. I cannot handle the feeling of clothing on my body. Bed allows me to collapse. Screens take me away from being in my body (something that feels unbearable right now). Comics put me in a fantasy world which is as far away as I can get from this reality.
I don’t like being home. I feel trapped. But when I attempted to drive somewhere today I could not handle the anxiety and I liked that even less. I cannot access my love for anything or anyone. It disappeared again. I should be used to it but you never get used to it. It seems that I can no longer consistently enjoy the company of human beings but I can’t consistently enjoy my own company either. I live my life in windows. Small windows where I feel okay and then bigger windows where I feel tired or depressed or numb or lonely. My brain is so foggy. Hazy. It feels like a bad dream. All of it does.
I wish I could be in control of people’s time. Not in a power-hungry evil way. I only mean that…I wish I could control the matching up of windows. Make my small happy windows align with the windows of time in which my loved ones are available. Make my large unhappy widows align with the windows of time in which my loved ones are busy and/or working.
I don’t know what it means to “do your best”. If it means willing something into being different then I’m doing my best. If it means making sure you do the “healthiest” thing then I’m probably falling short. I cannot walk right now. I cannot lift weights right now. I can barely hold my head up. Yesterday it was from lack of sleep. Today it is from…I don’t know. Too much sleep? Depression? The reality of my brokenness?
And then there is the rage that comes from feeling helpless and broken. And the numbness that comes from dealing with that rage (or not dealing with that rage). Last night I ate a bag of potato chips large enough for six people. It was not a healthy choice but it was the healthiest choice that I could access in a moment where I wanted to burn every bridge I have in the world, punch holes in walls and seek out the creepy drug-addict who was lurking in our apartment complex in order to beat the living crap out of him.
I feel so sleepy. I feel so foggy. I feel so numb. Numb turns to rage and rage turns to numbness. I feel so alone while knowing that it’s because of me. I feel trapped while knowing I’m trapping myself.
Ride it out. That would be the wise advice. And yet….ride it out. Until I have to ride it out again. And again. And again. And again. And suddenly I have a week where four to five of the seven days were spent riding things out and whatever good is in me is given to my work. Five of seven weeks. Six of eight months. Most of 49 years.
Today the window will be my only relief. If the heat allows I can look out of my window. My goal for today is to watch life go by. If I cannot live or connect to the life in me then maybe I can watch it. Make the window a different type of screen. Watch people and wonder what on earth they are doing down there. Wondering what is worth driving towards or what motivates them to speak to one another. Like an alien confusedly trying to make sense of the strange creatures on that other planet.