And… here… we… are… again. Must admit, I was a bit worried. I was genuinely having a difficult time finding anything interesting to write about. Feeling good, doing good,… jammin’ in fact. When you write a blog that mostly speaks to the fact that your mind constantly plays tricks on you, and you can never ever tell if it’s the disease or just the way you’re wired, feeling good makes for a boring tale. You: “Hey! How are you doing?” Me: “Great!” – end of story. BOOOOOOOORING.
It must get so old reading the ups and downs. I would imagine it makes it difficult to trust me when I say I am well, because I always end up back here. I am sorry for that. The one thing I can promise you is that I am always attempting to move forward. Always forward. Beyond that… nothing.
How awesome would it be if there was a switch we could flip to make all the negativity that has become so ingrained just go away. “Fly away little birdy. Fly, fly away.” I could be wrong but, if this was possible, I get the feeling I would spend more time outside.
I will say this; in my journey to find inner peace (because let’s face it, that’s what it is), I have begun to zero in on some of the root problems behind some of the emotional spin-outs I send myself on. People, and trying to please them. Trying to be something they can love. There are times when my skin fits perfectly and I feel almost invincible. Like no one can touch me. Then, there are times like last night where I feel like every action and every word that comes out of my mouth is just plain wrong. Then, my perspective becomes my reality despite what may or may not actually be going on. Little events happen that seem to only confirm my perspective. One thing leads to another and I find myself running away only to remove myself from the world until I feel comfortable showing my face again.
I recently told my friend, “I’m afraid I am going to end up like Howard Hughes. Only instead of germs, it’s people I am afraid of.” It’s the way of the future. (grin)
Then, there’s “the disease”. The whole brain thing. Slowly deteriorating until there is nothing left of me. How much of what I experience emotionally is due to that? Add to that all the various medications (established and experimental) I was taking. What effect did that have? Therein lies my greatest problem – I never know. Honestly, I can never tell.
This is my ultimate frustration. I feel and experience emotions so strong and profound that I am CONVINCED they are real. But, are they? Or are they simply an effect of my illness? Or an aftershock of the medication I am no longer taking? I never know, and I always question. Why? Because I feel like it makes me something irritating and unlovable, and I want to squash it.
So, if I frustrate you with my neurosis, please take a moment to breathe. I don’t mean to be, as Kelso put it, “A walking Woody Allen movie”. I’m just trying to figure out something that, quite possibly, can never be figured out.
Gonna go play now.