I'm um, really down so anything I write, even this, will have that pathetic feeling to it that I happen to loathe so much. Why do I loathe it? What is it about the patheticness that evokes such a strong response in me? Maybe to me "pathetic" is beyond sadness or melancholy. It is self-pity. It is something that one chooses, not just something one experiences? Fuck. I do not wish to be pathetic. I may be sad. I may be hopelessly depressed. I may be experiencing a lot of things, but I do not pity myself. Do I? I know that I wish I felt better sometimes. I also know that I have fairly well forgotten what "feeling better" is like and have certainly forgotten how to live in that state. Perhaps it is fear that haunts me then. Fear that this pathetic state will end! I must consider all possibilities, especially the ones that fuck with my head the most.
It could be that I have grown so accustomed to living this way that I fear living any other way - even if it means feeling better. Less depressed. More engaged in life - whatever the fuck that means. Wow, I got angry. I'll bet I've hit on something then. I'm pissed at "life" - at people's definition of living. I'm pissed at the pressure I feel, both from myself and from the rest of the fucking universe to embrace this "life" that is set out before me. This illusion. Maya. Trickster? No. Far more sophisticated than a mere trickster. The illusion that anything, including my own physical form, a consciousness that I consider "my-self" exists. But how to escape? By withdrawing deeper into that very self? That is what the depression does. At least it keeps me from engaging in that "consensus reality" dancing out there.... But what does it REALLY save me? I don't become part of that order. I can remain in what seems to be chaos to most and perceive what they have trained themselves not to. I can feel. I can speak without verbalizing. I can see with my mind. I can touch flesh thousands of miles away. And I am SAD!?! These should seem like wondrous gifts. They come with a price. Who am I to quibble over the cost?
Who am I? What the fuck am I? I would like to scream now. Maybe cut off an ear or nostril or finger or something and mail it to some random address. Think they would consider that terrorism? Even if it was all cleaned up and not at all bloody? I could even dry it. My mind hurts. My soul aches. Yes, I feel as if Im not just falling apart, but spinning apart with bits of me flying off in various directions, scattered to the most ferocious winds. I would like to scream now. I can feel the weight on my heart. No wonder people thought thats where all the feeling happened. I can feel it there. And tugging from under my ribs. And it feels like I should have my mouth wide open to let something out while my head cracks open to admit something terrible. But I wont. Not again. Not now at least. I want to know what I am. Who I am. And I really want to scream.
It could be that I have grown so accustomed to living this way that I fear living any other way - even if it means feeling better. Less depressed. More engaged in life - whatever the fuck that means. Wow, I got angry. I'll bet I've hit on something then. I'm pissed at "life" - at people's definition of living. I'm pissed at the pressure I feel, both from myself and from the rest of the fucking universe to embrace this "life" that is set out before me. This illusion. Maya. Trickster? No. Far more sophisticated than a mere trickster. The illusion that anything, including my own physical form, a consciousness that I consider "my-self" exists. But how to escape? By withdrawing deeper into that very self? That is what the depression does. At least it keeps me from engaging in that "consensus reality" dancing out there.... But what does it REALLY save me? I don't become part of that order. I can remain in what seems to be chaos to most and perceive what they have trained themselves not to. I can feel. I can speak without verbalizing. I can see with my mind. I can touch flesh thousands of miles away. And I am SAD!?! These should seem like wondrous gifts. They come with a price. Who am I to quibble over the cost?
Who am I? What the fuck am I? I would like to scream now. Maybe cut off an ear or nostril or finger or something and mail it to some random address. Think they would consider that terrorism? Even if it was all cleaned up and not at all bloody? I could even dry it. My mind hurts. My soul aches. Yes, I feel as if Im not just falling apart, but spinning apart with bits of me flying off in various directions, scattered to the most ferocious winds. I would like to scream now. I can feel the weight on my heart. No wonder people thought thats where all the feeling happened. I can feel it there. And tugging from under my ribs. And it feels like I should have my mouth wide open to let something out while my head cracks open to admit something terrible. But I wont. Not again. Not now at least. I want to know what I am. Who I am. And I really want to scream.
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
No shit Demoness, for all of our talking and e-mailing I am seriously beginning to think that I should just make peace with the fact that I will NOT find the same kind of peace that pacifys them. Maybe I'm not a bad fucker, maybe I'm just not like them, well that part of known for fucking eons.
If friends, family and fucking lovers want to deny that part of me that they can't deal with? Then fuck them, I will hide and protect those that I care for from the part of me that they can't fucking deal with. But in the end I die alone and I will be true to myself.........L8er Mer..........AJ
Well, like I said, I originally planned on doing church work for a living, in the inner city, where it really matters.
After losing my mother, my marriage, my career, most of my money, and my direction all in the course of about 14 months, my outlook on life changed quite a bit.
I still have my faith, but it's changed some in nature. Although, to be honest, I was a bit of a theological maverick even in college when I was planning on a life in ministry.
It's too complex to post on a journal comment; in college I was actually planning on writing my own theology book, just basically explaining my view on the real message of the Bible and the real spirit of Christianity and how to live the way I thought Christ really intended his followers to live. Incidentally, I think it has practically nothing to do with the way most mainstream Christians in this country live.
It's been a long time since I've thought about it in systematic terms.
Incidentally, I'm a little bummed that no one commented on my journal to tell me to get busy writing the books I've been talking about writing.
I started the one on Portugal tonight. Unfortunately, I have to go in to work at 10am tomorrow instead of 3pm, so I can't get really rolling on it all night as I'd prefer, since I still have to work until 11pm. Hello, overtime!
I've been asked why I didn't take the opportunity of my IT career's ending to go back into church work, but being divorced, even when it was your spouse having the extended affair and everything else, makes it really difficult. It's a huge stigma in the church, getting divorced. I didn't want to deal with it.
Plus, for a while, all I really wanted to do was disappear into the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
[Edited on Sep 28, 2005 10:48PM]