actual drugs…

And things of such nature.

I’m only writing now because I won’t feel like writing later. And if I’m really committed to making myself proud, then procrastination must become an abandoned child.  Its been an intense month. A rough ending to a mostly good year. I feel depression trailing two steps behind me, so it’s time to pick up the pace. Force myself to leave the comfort of home and reintegrate myself in the human world because otherwise, I just may cease to exist.

Even when it seems like a bad idea; What else can I really do? I can’t stay home holed up and away from the world I have been so boldly asserting myself into over the past 4 years. Some time ago I made myself a goal of improving my integrity. Being a woman of my word and not just wrapped up in my own world. Most times it has been good. Most days this year, I felt as if I was winning. Then December brought fake summer and everything went side ways. All my resolve crumbled as my life turns into a steaming pile of manure.

The pressure I can take. Being broke I can figure out. Conflict I can face. But I don’t deal well with trauma. I’m even worse with death.  Just when I was beginning to heal, I lose two family members this month within a week of each other. A fact I haven’t shared with many people unless they really need to know. (I mean what is there really to say about death? Can anyone ever really be comforted?) While I know there are friends that are willing to share a shoulder, I usually keep the realest stuff to myself. I hate to cry, so when I must I keep to myself. Think about going out but never quite make it. I bask in the solitude of my mind and stay there hooked like an addict. Solitude be my favorite drug.  The organized chaos of it all works for me when I need to bathe in quiet and comfort until I no longer feel pain. And then I get around people and again the world goes sideways. During these times I become a snow globe in a paint mixer. Unable to settle. Being an empath, people create confusion in my experience of moments when I’m in these states. What I’m actually feeling melds with perception of how I’m being perceived.   I can’t tell the difference. I can’t seem to push myself out of my thoughts and exist in real time. I second guess everything I think to speak. I’m fidgety and flustered. I feel odd, eventually removing myself from people; which makes me weird. Or self preserving. I’m not quite sure which.

People that I call friends are always reminding me through advice and their actions that whatever I’m going through can be overcome. Lately, I’ve been watching the world with a heavy heart only attempting to interact with it. Fighting the stalker called depression at times feels  like I’m only succeeding at destroying myself publicly. Feels like the effort it took for me to get dressed, be somewhere other than the stoop & talk to someone other than the bodega man is  energy wasted. That maybe letting myself fall down the rabbit hole and fade into oblivion would be a better choice. But then I look around the room I’m in and realize nobody cares about me so little that they are judging me. I remember that it’s worth being a witness to life happening as long as I am still living it. That staying wrapped up in my blankets won’t change a damn thing. The world will continue to turn. So today I said fuck being depressed. Fuck running away from potential conflict. Fuck being the middle man to other folks drama. Fuck perception. Be who I am. Be where I am supposed to be. And do what I said I would do. Tomorrow is another day that will still come, whether I participate or not. Ain’t nobody got time to be depressed.

 

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