As far as I can tell there are three things going on
A) Seasonal Affective Disorder
-not that I have been formally diagnosed but the damn light helps, and in general I am usually at my worst during winter
B) Grieving, specifically someone who went away
C) Realization in counseling
I don't want to do anything but sleep.
I can't cry
I can barely think
I am not motivated to do any of the things I might normally be interested in like movies, books, writing, drawing, friends etc
I know that I can be pulled out of it for moments, sometimes entire days...
but I also know that it swarms back in -in seconds.
I am very irritable, very full of self doubt/loathing, very unsure of future, very passive aggressive, somewhat self destructive and very unmotivated to do anything.
I am at this point able to still make plans for the future... but already I am doubting whether that person or I will want to hang out if things continue.
I am going to bed.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
There are some nights when loving so many people seems like a curse, though I know it to be a collection too vast of blessings, yet how should I keep my heart from bursting? How should I contain it?
I get overwhelmed with missing, such soft understated things, so that I can’t really describe with poetics or shouting what it is that I long for. Can’t share what I would call beautiful with others because words don’t have the proper depths for moments, or I don’t know them (others seem to do it beautifully). Can’t explain heart expansion, can’t explain mind explosions, and can’t explain yearnings felt with more than one organ at a time.
The relief normally sought out, is so petty in comparison that I feel contempt for shallow release. Some nights I want love and nothing else will do, so I seek the million miracle memories and the high tide waves crash through me. Leave me bruised with love and longing. Leave me close to tears and sometimes flooded, have left me stomach sick, have left me sleep deprived, have left me writing or painting, have left me singing and dancing, have left me stomping through moonlit streets until exhaustion, but not completion. I am a romantic caught up in the body and rules of a shy hurt boy, always stuttering and never in the moment able to proclaim love,
but I feel it.
And of the things that will doom me, I fear it, holds the most strain on my heart and it, only it,
keeps me here.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Doing that invisible thing
Been thinking a lot about people I care about lately. Unfortunately thinking about- means almost nothing in the tangible world of showing you care.
But its hard you know... like how do you get across to someone miles away that you would like to hear more about their day. How do you keep up relationships.
Much of this has been fueled by Becky leaving, but she isn't the only one I have been thinking about. Thinking about the lost friendships, thinking about the ones that matter when they are in town, and who I think about but never contact when they are gone.
Melissa and Nikki, Chris, Gabi, Zach and Pete, tempted to throw someone like Jenny E in there just to see if I could convince her it mattered to me once. What about Nova? What about Nona (Kristen)? What about Tim or Elizabeth? The ones out adventuring in Europe or teaching in Asia?
What about the lost ones, Nikki and Lex?
Thinking about someone daily doesn't really do the trick to make it matter.
What about the hundred friendly faces I have waiting here at home?
This weekend I was thinking simultaneously as is often the case how blessed and how lonely I felt. My weeks are filled with smiles and conversations, coffee and dinner dates, of people not quite pushed away... because I do care and once depended. But without the constant verbal insistence, what if only the every 6 month conversation, does it still show?
My dreams of you are not my hands reaching to hold you, but my heart still pumps to keep the blood you offered warm. In the warmth within me somewhere there is still a sectioned labeled "home" with your name on the mail box, and forever and ever a welcome mat (and at least dreams of hugs for your homecoming).
The thing about acknowledging blessings is that you don't want to give them up, nor seem ungrateful... and I have a thousand miracles to make it up to.
But its hard you know... like how do you get across to someone miles away that you would like to hear more about their day. How do you keep up relationships.
Much of this has been fueled by Becky leaving, but she isn't the only one I have been thinking about. Thinking about the lost friendships, thinking about the ones that matter when they are in town, and who I think about but never contact when they are gone.
Melissa and Nikki, Chris, Gabi, Zach and Pete, tempted to throw someone like Jenny E in there just to see if I could convince her it mattered to me once. What about Nova? What about Nona (Kristen)? What about Tim or Elizabeth? The ones out adventuring in Europe or teaching in Asia?
What about the lost ones, Nikki and Lex?
Thinking about someone daily doesn't really do the trick to make it matter.
What about the hundred friendly faces I have waiting here at home?
This weekend I was thinking simultaneously as is often the case how blessed and how lonely I felt. My weeks are filled with smiles and conversations, coffee and dinner dates, of people not quite pushed away... because I do care and once depended. But without the constant verbal insistence, what if only the every 6 month conversation, does it still show?
My dreams of you are not my hands reaching to hold you, but my heart still pumps to keep the blood you offered warm. In the warmth within me somewhere there is still a sectioned labeled "home" with your name on the mail box, and forever and ever a welcome mat (and at least dreams of hugs for your homecoming).
The thing about acknowledging blessings is that you don't want to give them up, nor seem ungrateful... and I have a thousand miracles to make it up to.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
From the first preview I sort of knew what I was getting myself into.
Something about something...
I watched a 2 hour movie for myself, by myself in the theater.
I hadn't thought it would move me.
But there is something about the behind the scenes, that maybe directors count on,
knowing full well that they can touch the sensitive strings,
they flash a story on the screen, but allow the familiar image and sound to drum up for you what inside had stilled
and slowly melt away the layers, so that by the end
it isn't about the two made up characters who don't deserve each other, but about the desire to be loved and forgiven, that brings us to tears.
During the previews a stupid looking movie made me smile and I wanted to share that smile with someone, to feel that connection of guilty pleasures, but no one was there, and from that point I could only see in every character present on the screen every moment of love and doubt, of fragile beautiful humanity that I had ever witnessed from the first person -and in the moment wishing, as I often do when seeing it on screen, that someone would slap me for being so stupid.
I watched a 2 hour movie for myself, by myself in the theater.
I hadn't thought it would move me.
But there is something about the behind the scenes, that maybe directors count on,
knowing full well that they can touch the sensitive strings,
they flash a story on the screen, but allow the familiar image and sound to drum up for you what inside had stilled
and slowly melt away the layers, so that by the end
it isn't about the two made up characters who don't deserve each other, but about the desire to be loved and forgiven, that brings us to tears.
During the previews a stupid looking movie made me smile and I wanted to share that smile with someone, to feel that connection of guilty pleasures, but no one was there, and from that point I could only see in every character present on the screen every moment of love and doubt, of fragile beautiful humanity that I had ever witnessed from the first person -and in the moment wishing, as I often do when seeing it on screen, that someone would slap me for being so stupid.