It's not really "that" bad...

In my world nothing is really all that bad. (And, I say "in my world" because people that know me would most likely tell you that's were I am...in my own world.) Sure, things aren't all that great, but they could always be worse.

I do bitch & complain about my life a lot I guess. I usually say I'm not much of a complainer, but today I realized, just out of the blue, that I am. I'm not exactly happy about that realization, but...

But in my defense, I'm not a "normal" bithcher & complainer. (Yeah, y'all had to see that coming...when am I ever a "normal" anything?) I don't voice all my woes to everybody around me on a constant basis. I, for the most part, keep my complaints to myself or to my writing. I don't go around every day spouting all the feel-bad thoughts about my life in spoken words to everybody I see. I am a, by-actions, optimist.

When I talk to people, on very rare occasions I do actually "talk" to people, I want to be positive & say good, uplifting things. I don't want to be one of those people who people dread because everything that comes out of their mouthis negative. I could be...my thoughts usually live in "feel bad land"...but I would rather try to make the people around me happy & have them be in a good mood rather than down. My solution is sarcasm & jokes to make light of situations.

It doesn't always work like a charm & a lot of times people really don't relly know what to make of it or how to take me. But I am that way with the best of intentions.

Yes, I think most of the time that my life sucks balls. However, I'm sure it could be worse. I am going to avoid my usual urge to elaborate on every thought that pops into my head as to why my life sucks balls, because when I give in to that I wind up writing & writing & writing & writing...well, you get the point, right? Basically a bunch of bs about blah blah blah that nobody really cares about & that I after reading back over what I wrote (like I know better than to do, but usually do anyways) decide that I really shouldn't actually publish on the internet & then wind up deleting hours or so of text so I feel safer knowing that all my closely guarded secret thoughts stay that way. (Like anybody actually reads this stuff I post on here anyways.)

A friend of mine tells me over & over to just post the ramblings that I write down how they show up on the screen & not to re-read & censor things out because that way my future book is already written. He seems to think that people actually care & want to read about my crazy thoughts & wacked up life. I have told him that one day I might be able to do that but for now I still have issues with people knowing too much. Maybe when I'm old & away from "where I am now" (mind-set-wise) I'll do that, but for now I think I'll just stick with my vague & censored way of wriing ramblings down so they're all confusing. Seems to work better for me this way for now.

=)

Damned if I do...Damned if I don't...

I used to be able to sit down & write anything. The ideas & thoughts would just flow like crazy. I couldn’t type fast enough to get all of them out. Now I still have all the crazy ideas but when I sit down to write, my mind goes blank. This isn’t really anything new…I’ve been struggling with it for months, but every time I think I’ll be able to sit down & write, the “nothing” takes over all again.

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The farther I seem to drift away from who I was…the less I am able to be who I am. I want to be me…not this new person that I feel I’ve been forced into becoming. The more I drift away, the less I can get down into words. I don’t want to be so far away from myself that the words stop.

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I see me & what I want. But when I do it’s just the unrealistic versions that pop into my head from movies & songs. Real life versions come in tiny flashes. I’m still in here. The smiles are still in here. The fun is still in here. The “happy” is still in here. It’s just all covered up by the life that my fears allowed me to build around me.

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I want to break out of this shell of a life. I want to be able to be me without hurting anybody else. I know “why” I’m this person. I just don’t understand why knowing why doesn’t help me do anything about it. The decisions I make…the things I do…the things I say…I know that it’s not “me” but I can’t not be that way. (Yes…I know that’s not correct grammar.) It’s like watching a bad, really poorly written movie. You know what the characters “should” do & you can see in advance that what they do is going to be a disaster, but you can’t do anything about it. Basically, it’s co-dependence, which I have learned is not that rare in children of alcoholics. And…true to the real me…I seem to go overboard with everything & have a pretty extreme form.

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But…knowing all of that spirals me into the next problem: depression. I’ve never really sat down until now & looked at everything in any order, but now that I look at it all this way, it finally makes a little more sense. Not complete sense because this is all just now unfolding in my head as I’m typing, but…logically, it makes sense. Think about it this way: If you were living your life the way you thought everybody around you wanted you to be living your life & ignoring what you wanted wouldn’t you be a bit depressed as well? Maybe that’s why the drugs don’t seem to help much?

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And…that sorta explains the next dilemma: social anxiety. I’m not happy with myself. It makes sense that I don’t want to be around people. Leaving the house is hard. I make excuses, usually anything that happens to pop into my head at the time that sounds half-way believable, but the truth is that I just don’t want to go out because “pretending” is just too damn tiring & I hate it.

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I can go out & have fun. I can go out & enjoy myself. But when I do I get “in trouble” for it…WTF??? I get asked how I can go out & be fine sometimes but not others. Well, it’s just now clicking in my head that all the times I’ve gone out & had fun…all the times I’ve had to “explain myself”…those are the times when I “let go” of all the “pretend me” crap.

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Really one of those damned if I do, damned if I don’t situations.