Dear, beloved friends,
I want to be clear that I have no plans to harm myself. For some inscrutable reason people like having me around. Also, I have to take care of the cats. So I'll stick around.
The purpose of the blog is to get some crap off my mind so it does not poison me.
Suicidal Ideations
When enough is enough and you just wanna get some rest.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
The U-Turn
In the December 18th 2010 edition of the Economist there is an article that explains how life gets better after age 46. I turn 47 in a week.
My 46th year was a rough one. I could use a break.
My 46th year was a rough one. I could use a break.
I want my mother and other ramblings
(To all who have commented on my first post and sent me private messages, thank you. I hear and feel the love you are sending and it gives me reason to hang in there.)
I want my Mom.
Primally, pre-verbally want my Mom, now. I want my Mom so bad, it makes me cry. I want to be held, comforted, told everything will be all right and to have the competent, reliable adult fix whatever is wrong in my world.
The English word orphan is derived from the Latin word orphanus which is in turn derived from the Greek word orphanos which is derived from orphos . What all these words mean is deprived or bereft. Orphans are bereft ones. I feel bereft of my Mother, which is horrible.
Now, I understand that I am too old to want my Mom, that I have to take care of myself and really, probably don't deserve my Mom's consideration anymore. Frankly, my Mom just isn't capable and I want something that is impossible and always was.
This doesn't change how I feel, at all.
I wish I could let go.
I want my Mom.
Primally, pre-verbally want my Mom, now. I want my Mom so bad, it makes me cry. I want to be held, comforted, told everything will be all right and to have the competent, reliable adult fix whatever is wrong in my world.
The English word orphan is derived from the Latin word orphanus which is in turn derived from the Greek word orphanos which is derived from orphos . What all these words mean is deprived or bereft. Orphans are bereft ones. I feel bereft of my Mother, which is horrible.
Now, I understand that I am too old to want my Mom, that I have to take care of myself and really, probably don't deserve my Mom's consideration anymore. Frankly, my Mom just isn't capable and I want something that is impossible and always was.
This doesn't change how I feel, at all.
I wish I could let go.
Monday, December 27, 2010
in medias res
I don't know where all this began so I'll just start where I am: Living a bedroom in a friends house, definitely til March but maybe til May. My housing options are limited by an eviction ( a story for another blog but I promise I'll tell it) and by my status as a displaced worker (which means I am unemployed. Long term unemployed.) Homelessness is a real possibility if I don't get a job soon. I am scared shitless and I am desperate. I've lost almost everything, in the wake of losing my job: my good name, my income, my credit rating, my living space, my confidence in the future, my belief in my ability to effect my own destiny, my connection with the working world, my sense of time, my relationship with my family and so much more. It's a gift that keeps on giving.
What I still have: My truck, my clothes, my books, my guitars and my cats. And my armour.
I've never been without work this long in my life. It is very disorienting. There is no feedback to tell me what I should do differently. I've had my resume checked out by professionals. They say it is very strong and have few suggestions to "fix" it. What the fuck ever.
I don't sleep very well. I never was that good at it but it's gotten much worse. I mean, it's four thirty AM and I'm writing a blog post. Ambien which has worked so well for so long doesn't always work these days. No doubt I've built up a tolerance. Nothing else works. Really, I've tried everything.
I've also lost about 20 pounds, weight I could stand to lose but not because I can't eat because I am broke and stressed out.
My biggest worry is the cats. They are dependent on me and I have to take care of them. Frankly, if it weren't for them, I'd probably have killed myself by now. I am really sick and tired of my life. Terror just gets boring after a while. Suicide seems a reasonable choice under the circumstances. Hence the name of this blog. But the cats, they really need me. They also love me and I love them. They are my babies. So I keep on going. I worry though because I haven't got a job and I don't know where I am going to be living in a few months.
I have many, many people who care about me and for some really unfathomable reason they want me around. I'm alienated from my family of origin yet I have an abundance of friends who love me. It makes deciding to live a little easier. It also makes me weep with a combination of longing, gratitude, love and utterly inconsolable grief. Estrangement from my mother particularly hurts.
I think that is enough for a first post. There will be more, I'm sure.
If I'm posting, at least we'll know I'm still alive, right?
Good night, all.
What I still have: My truck, my clothes, my books, my guitars and my cats. And my armour.
I've never been without work this long in my life. It is very disorienting. There is no feedback to tell me what I should do differently. I've had my resume checked out by professionals. They say it is very strong and have few suggestions to "fix" it. What the fuck ever.
I don't sleep very well. I never was that good at it but it's gotten much worse. I mean, it's four thirty AM and I'm writing a blog post. Ambien which has worked so well for so long doesn't always work these days. No doubt I've built up a tolerance. Nothing else works. Really, I've tried everything.
I've also lost about 20 pounds, weight I could stand to lose but not because I can't eat because I am broke and stressed out.
My biggest worry is the cats. They are dependent on me and I have to take care of them. Frankly, if it weren't for them, I'd probably have killed myself by now. I am really sick and tired of my life. Terror just gets boring after a while. Suicide seems a reasonable choice under the circumstances. Hence the name of this blog. But the cats, they really need me. They also love me and I love them. They are my babies. So I keep on going. I worry though because I haven't got a job and I don't know where I am going to be living in a few months.
I have many, many people who care about me and for some really unfathomable reason they want me around. I'm alienated from my family of origin yet I have an abundance of friends who love me. It makes deciding to live a little easier. It also makes me weep with a combination of longing, gratitude, love and utterly inconsolable grief. Estrangement from my mother particularly hurts.
I think that is enough for a first post. There will be more, I'm sure.
If I'm posting, at least we'll know I'm still alive, right?
Good night, all.
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