I'm not sure how I'm feeling today. Its like I'm trying to stay in once place in a crowd and getting pushed in a direction that I don't want. Ever been out to sea and had the ocean start to pull you farther from shore? Relentlessly drawing you to the vastness of an ocean and a world much larger then yourself? I'm not sure why I'm feeling like this. Maybe I just need more coffee... or less. I'm not really sure.

At Least I'll Sleep

I'm edgy, urgy. Have been for several days. I want to burn to feel something more, or maybe its something less. I've just had a few drinks and my brain is getting fuzzy. It surprises me that I can still type with clarity, though I won't mention how many times I've had to backspace. I'm not completely sure what is wrong with my head, my emotions. So many ways I'm going. In a way, I like the fuzz. Means I don;t have to feel obligated to think straight. With a few drinks, I always sleep straight through the night and I don't dream. Thank God.

Road Trip

It has been a plan of mine for some time to travel to the coast and travel north along Route 1. I've wanted to do this for sometime. I plan to take a cooler, sleeping bag, and duffel with change of clothes. I can sleep in the back of my van. All that is needed is what I have listed, a map and possibly a compass. I'm rather good with direction but having a back up wouldn't be a bad idea.

Mum doesn't like the idea really. She wants to make sure I'm safe. I'll be twenty-seven this July and perfectly capable of handling myself. I would like to get a decent knife though. Or a taser... Either way. Still and all, I am rather good at taking care of myself. I've managed so far, have I not?

Well, one way or another I have managed.

Moving On

I am my mother's fourth child and my father's first. My older siblings were never around when I was a child. As a result of such, I have grown up with the mentality of a first born child. I view myself as the oldest. I have done all the things that an older child is expected to do. Namely, to make a success of my life and be a reasonably responsible human being. My mother's second husband (first died of heart failure) was an abusive bastard. He beat my mother and raped my half-sister. All of my siblings have been abused in one way or another throughout their lives. I, however, have not. I had a relatively safe childhood, though I never was what one could call "happy".

Having mentioned this to my mother, she says that I haven't gotten past the survivor's guilt that I feel. As a matter of fact, I have, but she won't fully let me move on. I have to remember that I am the survivor, that my siblings will always hate me for that. I guess that might be part of the reasons I'm an injurer. God, I am so confused and fucked in the head.

No Point In This

This is one of those filler posts. Mostly, I'm bored out of my skull and bone tired. I have a cold which is resulting in a headache. I'd rather stay at home today, but I'm certain I can work through the day as I did yesterday. I'm tired! I've got a camping trip this Sunday and Monday. Mum and I are going to a lake to relax and do jack squat. :) Must remember to bring a good book. I'm thinking of Big Sur by Jack Kerouac. I've not read that one yet.

If I wasn't sick, I'd take a sleeping pill tonight and have a good long rest. The reason I don't is that I have a cold and don't want a become poor man's version of Heath Ledger. I know that's not funny, and it wasn't meant to be.

Work Days

First off, to Scottie, I wish to express a few words. I do not mind your advice or counsel. Its not wise for one to rely solely upon their own understanding, counsel. Only seeing one side of the issue means you are not able to fully see, thus providing a skewed path.

Now to the blog thingy...

Yesterday, I had the great joy (note sarcasm) of having to be placed in front of a tribunal and told that I get overly frustrated at work. They wanted to know what was bothering me, why I felt as I did and to actually write a statement to the effect of such. I felt over powered and out numbered. Three supervisors against one associate? There was an assistant manager, my direct supervisor (both male) and one female supervisor. Three against one is not fair odds and when all three are supervisors, I felt out gunned, so to speak. I had to sit down, placing myself in a lower position. All in all, I felt overwhelmed. I stopped talking and made an attempt to calm down which amounted to an incredible failure and a minor panic attack.

I don't think I would have panicked had I been allowed to stand. If you are going to hand me disgrace, at least give me the dignity of accepting such on my own two feet. They wanted me to write a statement and I flatly refused, saying that I was not going to write under duress and while upset. They would have to wait for an official report.

The only one that even remotely seemed to give rat's fuzzy little ass was my supervisor. He kept trying to see if I was all right, finally telling me to take an long break if I felt the need. I took five minutes, tried to calm down and finally burned in the restroom. I had to set my head straight. The panic attack is what did me in. I understand that it "wasn't worth injuring for". Always seems to be the line I'm given. Half the time I feel as though my emotions need validation or explanation to others. "I feel like this because of that". The explanations can be tedious, and annoying. I seem to not be allowed certain emotions. Well, not allowed without certain criteria being met.

Oh my, I forgot a few things for Scottie. To answer one of your pointed questions: No, I can never recall being happy or completely healthy minded, if indeed there is such a thing. Much of work is influenced by my emotions. So, I guess the only way of knowing what will happen is to follow through, wait and see.

Fear Of Loss

I'm a writer, its my one talent. I use the writing as an outlet. My nightmares become stories, my emotions morph into poetry. What happens when I am "healed", I wonder? What happens to my writing when and if I am no longer depressed and having such thoughts? I fear loosing the power of my writing.

I guess the question becomes "Am I willing to loose some of my writing for the sake of a healthy(er) mind?" I'm not sure. And that unease bothers me. For instance, according to many of my online friends who know of my current situation, this poem below is among my very best.

Heaven's Tears

a music is filling the earth once more
a moment in time that I long for
the feeling of a planet sharing
emotions with me
the sky has turned from blue
to deep grays of stormed emotions
finally, the sky cannot hold
her tears a moment longer
and sighs heavily.

cool rain drops caress my face
and cool my anger, reminding me
that even the cosmos need a release.
my heart is dark and breaking and
it seems the world knows this,
crying with me so I don't feel alone.

the city is breathing with me
feeling the cool sensation of rain
as it washes away the filth of so many sins.
my arms raise skyward as the drops wash
over scars and marks,
purifying me.

I'm crying with the skies, with the heavens.
Only in the moments of heavenly pain
can I feel truly understood.
Even God is weeping, for one... for many.

Numb

I'm feeling numb. Cut last night and again this morning to feel something. If I'm not feeling numb, I'm feeling depressed, which is close to the same thing. Feeling lost, alone. I feel as if the love I have for people needs validation. I tell my parents I love them and they ask, "What are you up to?"

I just want to curl in bed and forget the world today. I'm so fed up with everything.

I went over the same place too many times when I cut, which I don't do normally. Now its deeper then the usual superficial cuts, so I have to watch it carefully today. God, I'm so stupid. Can't I be irresponcible and play hooky from work today?

NO MEDS!

Therapy on Tuesday did not go well for me. She seemed almost insistent that instead of starting with therapy, we should start with meds. "Its about your quality of life. Did you want to feel better, or just okay?" That was the cincher, I'm not going back. I'll find someone else. I did not want therapy to get zombified on antidepressants! If the situation warrants it, then yes I may have to consider meds, but I don't want to start with medication then use therapy. Seems bass-akwards to me.

So, I'll try a different therapist. Damn, as if calling the first time wasn't hard enough.

Quidam

My father bought tickets for the two of us to see this Cirque Du Soleil show. I have always wanted to see a Cirque show live, even planning to take a trip to Las Vegas to enjoy one. Well today, Quidam came here. The tickets have been sitting on the television since February. I can close my eyes and still see it, see the acts, hear the music. Feel the story.

There is one act, the silks, that always makes my heart ache. The woman wraps herself in the silk completely, she looks wrapped in a womb-- a rebirth to a new life. But it doesn't seem to be the one she wants. She's sad and seemingly trying desperately to be that pure heart once more. I feel like that. Lonely, depressed, lost, and forgotten. She seems to be clinging to life, the silks, until she is forced to be a person without hope, being carried off stage. That act always makes me want to cry.

I've decided to watch Alegria, another Cirque show that I have on dvd. I want that story.

Therapy on Tuesday.