some analogy about swimming (drowning)

Last weekend I blacked out for the second time. It's taken a lifetime, but I really believe now, that I am not in control. Suppression only works when you lock all the doors.

I sit here sometimes, and wave my fists in the air. Write these empowering bullshit letters to myself about how interesting and strong I am and all the things that I might deserve. But I don't feel strong.

I've been in the Midwest for 6 years now. I thought I had outrun the dark imbalance, but I still haven't found my footing. But here's the thing. I'm 32. Will I ever? I have been in this mode of Don't Worry It'll Happen for over a decade, and actually making efforts for the last 5 of those years but.

I'm still just this. Good jobs, friends, a great man. And I can't pull myself above the water long enough to gulp the air and see the skies. I'm still feet below. Haunted by the warmth my fingertips feel above the foam, the sun exists, I need her. Just knowing the atmosphere is really there might have to be enough. I have a vivid imagination.

I am taking steps, I promise. I quit drinking, I am writing again, thinking about drawing. But I'm not working, I have become wary and paranoid of people, I am lashing out at my partner, I am weighted down by this strange winter. I have nothing to give, I can't follow through. I know this.

I feel better for my self awareness, though. Long thoughts in a quiet house have brought me closer to understanding how my madness works. I think about cutting everyday, but I'm doing good, I'm steering clear. The summer was harder, I forgive myself for that. In a constant state of restart, I have to be. Do you know what it is like, to try to describe this fog to another? Watching them struggle with the automatic responses - Don't I give you everything? Don't I make you happy? What have I done? And you can reach over and say please, it's internal, this is chemistry, goddamn it I'm suffocating and I'm the one tying the concrete block to my legs help me, and it won't matter. When it's this hard to talk about, you keep it to yourself. It festers.

And you learn that really, no matter how much people love you, you're on your own with this. Some try to stand valiantly with you. But it only takes one step too far for them to throw their hands up and say Fuck this, THIS is fucking crazy.

I'm just working through this, hair drifting around me in the deep cold water, I keep my eyes closed and retreat into my head. The room, do you remember it? The windows are foggy and dripping with condensation. There's nothing out there anyway. I love the way it smells, like wood and maybe pomegranate body spray. The boxes are scattered, the closet door is open. The animal is out and she purrs into my hand as I stand in the middle of this cluttered, stifling space. I talk to her, because she is me.

Maybe, for the first time, she'll talk back to me. Instead of screaming, instead of attacking. Silver eyes and my own heart. Maybe together, we can find balance, start kicking, and find the air.

THIS

Sometime about 3 years ago something in me was able to find all the right switches. She wandered around my mind, slightly skipping, maybe humming, and flicked all the ones she could find with blinking lights, steam seeping, and angry red cracked handles. She found all of them. She did too good a job I think. I shut down. Crying there while I typed about my dead child, wondering what the fuck I was going to do, fighting so hard not to just give up: that must have been when the part of me started to gather the blueprints.

She must have known. I must have known.

It was perfect. I did something right. I took precautionary measures.

For when the man I chose that night in September would scar me for life, and never apologize.

For when I decided to move to Nebraska with him anyway and had my heart break repeatedly with grief and homesickness for weeks and weeks while he sat stone cold next to me in disgust till finally, it stopped.

For when my friends gave up. For good reasons. But you know, I’m selfish.

For my parents fighting on the phone, for my mother sobbing into the receiver at 3am. Where is your father? He never comes home. God have I wasted my life? Please mom, I…. can’t.

For losing my grandma. And her beautiful smile. I was so far away.

I was fucking prepared. None of that shit hurt as bad as it would have 3 or so years ago. Are you fucking kidding me? What is this huh? Are you even trying anymore, universe?

Remember when you took everything? Ha! I remember. I have a thousand little reminders. I remember.

And this time motherfucker, I was fucking ready.

It’s why I when I heard her voice on the phone for the first time, I knew she would be a great boss. I could hear her kindness, I could hear her firmness, and I could hear her laugh and I liked it. I knew I wanted to work for her. And I did. I do.

It’s why I didn’t share, why I was strong enough to carry all of this. Why I could build relationships. Why I chose the second chance, the anonymity. It’s been so fucking wonderful. They smile into my face, they laugh with me, and they don’t pity me. They see my eyes, they hear my words, they judge me fairly. I gave myself this chance.

It’s why I was able to ask another into my car, and without fear.

It’s why I am so fucking successful here, FUCK I am doing awesome. Excelling.

It’s why I am finally who I really was all along.

I took the measures.

Its why every time you made me feel like a fool I stood firm, looked you right in the face and said you better fucking watch it. Or you will lose me. You will lose this. You will lose everything. I am everything. For once in my miserable life I am everything.

I was never so empowered.

I warned you. By god. I did everything right. I talked till I was hoarse, I tried not to cry. I made my points into special little understandable easy to digest pellets and shot them like buckshot from this articulate and aggressive mouth of mine.

I could only love you the way I knew how and expect the same back.

Too much to ask for?

FUCK NO.

Again, are you fucking kidding me? Almost in my thirties and having been through all the shit I have are you FUCKING kidding me sir.

I am smart, I have a beautiful smile, soft hips, thick hair, sharp wit, I sing too loud in the car but I know all the words to the songs you like, and I can teach you things. I love deeply, and I reach. I study, goddamnit I work like a fucking dog. A whirlwind of attention and energy. This is what the fuck you are losing.

No one has time to fight with somebody, beg somebody to love them.

Especially not me.

But I did. How sad. Ha! Oh jesus, I begged you to just let me in, just tell me why you don’t care as much as I do. Did. You sat across of me and said I don’t know where this is all coming from and I almost fucking laughed out loud. Holy shit. I haven’t had a feeling like that in such a long time. I just almost threw my head back and laughed.

Before I would have been a mess. Oh my god I’m so sorry it is all my fault I’m sorry don’t worry I will fix this.

NO.

NO.

NO.

Not this time. You had the misfortune of coming after the enlightenment. After one cheated, after one decided I was poison, after one sat across from me while I shook apart and held the screwdriver out like a knife. Are you ready? Did you call the cops? Let them come. Don’t make a fucking sound.

I took precautions. You see, I set rules. I did something right.

For the times you cringed when I would cry. For the time I tried to talk about the baby and you said let’s not do this. For the times I tried to talk about my little brother and you changed the subject. For you, erasing my past. Pretending it never happened. I used to be like you honey.

I’m not even really talking to anyone anymore.

I used to think giving all I had was something heroic.  

I know now I was just a fucking idiot.

I was so fucking stupid.

But I know me better than anyone. I know what I need; I know what will fix this. I am so strong now it scares me. I am so fucking strong. I ask now, I look into a strangers eyes and say come get to know me. I ask the tough questions. I will always want to touch. I do touch. Spontaneous, I do more than just touch now. I take. I will from now on always want a part of the people I know. I am a different thing now. You took nothing from me.

And sadly, I am done with this chapter. You had your chance, baby.

I will take my cat. I will take what little possessions I have. I will take my heart. I am finished.

singing under my breath, lost in cheap beer i pray

i find so many truths here, analyze myself and come to understandings. but i'm so weak. i never stick to it. fitting, its the new year. the time for discarded good intentions and resolutions.
all year with me.
but whatever right? it happens in sequence.
death.
heartbreak.
within a few months, i'll cycle again.
again.
again.
stop telling me its going to be ok, stop trying to make me look up and forward. im sorry but im done with all that bullshit.
lies.
im pretty sure he left me last night. i dont see how we could recover from that.
he laid there in bed and told me im no help to him, he wont come live with me, and when i walked out into the cold night on this bad side of town he just let me go. i walked home. into the warm arms of my best friend and dog. and i slept for hours, leaving my phone off and dead. i slept, envious. im so tired of the struggle that is human interaction. this crap called love, this lie that is friendship. im too demanding, expectant. i believe we should give as we get, but that would mean i should start telling everyone im busy and stop talking to people who arent cool enough to be seen with me. i should start flaking out and calling it off. i should just stop. everyone but one person is pissing me off, disappointing, repetitive in their apologies and false statements.

i sound ridiculous! how does anyone complain when it sounds so fucking stupid!

ugh ugh ugh.

stomp foot, walk away.