As part of my ongoing…quest?…Commitment?…Weirdly-obsessive need? to be more self-aware, I try to recognize my danger signs. Increasing tendencies toward isolating myself is a big one. I de-associated from a number of people in the past month or so, like Mr. A. His relentless positivity was too painful for me to continue enduring. He and everyone associated with my former landlords (who briefly endured my gloom-dripping presence in their home after their own refusal to pay the mortgage forced me out of my former domicile) have been excised from my life. Predictably, none of them have attempted to contact me; presumably they shook their heads, clucked their tongues, and sighed briefly about “That poor C, OH WELL” before briskly getting on with their lives, as people tend to do.
At the other end of the danger-sign spectrum is a certain…fatalistic complacence. I’ve settled into a fairly deep rut in which I no longer have any faith that I’ll be getting out, and as a result I’m just coasting along while a tiny corner of my fogged and broken brain is screaming “YOU CAN’T KEEP THIS UP FOREVER.” Sooner or later the car’s getting repossessed. My storage unit will be auctioned off. The church will regretfully and painfully inform me that the favor I negotiated with them will have to come to an end because nobody, even I, expected it to go on as long as it has.
Keeping Up Appearances
In spite of the above, I’m still attending all the church services every week, taking notes, and engaging in moderate socializing there. I’ve been spending more time with Miss Y and we’ve been learning more about each other and our respective battlescars; she’s been a source of considerable encouragement and I try to reciprocate. The pastor’s wife permitted me a small level of access to help with some of the church’s social media presence, so I’ve enjoyed the briefly uplifting experience of creating a handful of graphics here and there in the hopes of getting some more eyeballs on the place, with the hopeful result of getting more butts in seats.
None of this, of course, is generating me any income.
In addition, I’ve struggled to make it to the gym more than once a week or so, which means I’m not showering more than once a week or so, because why bother? The only phone calls I’m getting are from collection agencies; it’s been nearly two months since I’ve received so much as a “thank you for your application” email from any of the jobs I’ve put in for. My knees are somehow giving me more trouble than ever. AND I GOT MY PERIOD THIS MORNING GAAAAAAAAAAH.
My whole situation has left me feeling rather disembodied, especially today. I went on a little road trip with Miss Y earlier; she had an errand to handle a few towns away and I asked if I could tag along because I straight-up needed the distraction from the PAAAAAAAIN that I was in. She was glad of the company and treated me to McDonald’s for lunch, and we chatted amiably the whole time we were out, but I spent the entire day in a fog of aching body spasms and a sense of watching myself on a screen.
I’m having the disturbing sensation that none of this is happening to me. It’s moderately alarming, or would be if I was experiencing normal feelings. This weird impression of unreality. Like I’m just offstage waiting for a cue that’ll never come, or sitting in the audience viewing the denouement of my own life and saying, “Wow. That was stupid.”
But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. (KJV)
My early morning darkness remains filled with pleadings. “Vain repetitions” as Jesus cautioned us against in Matthew 6:7, “Heavenly Father, help me, help me, help me. Heavenly Father please help me please help me please help me.” Lately I’ve added a new plea: “Fix me. Fix me. Fix me.” In the sunless void with my eyes clenched, I don’t think to be heard for my many words. I know he hears and knows what I need, even as it says in the next verse:
Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him. (KJV)
He hears me and he knows. But. But, but, but.
I’m rambling. Discombobulated. If I had a point, I’m not sure what it was. I’ve taken my little pink pills. Only two. Please don’t call the cops on me. All my dangers are psychological for the moment, not physical. Good night.