anyway, i know i just wrote a few hours ago, but after thinking i'd have problems sleeping because i slept so much last night/today, i fell asleep pretty quickly...and it was awful. i *very* rarely have nightmares, most likely because my fucking brain never stops processing when i'm awake and i'm constantly thinking, so that when i finally *do* fall asleep, my brain's first thought is, "thank christ. screw that subconscious thing; i need some REM."
tonight i did have a nightmare, in some ways similar to one i had a few weeks ago. that one was caused by being sick and taking too much cold medicine, i'm pretty sure, but this one had similar elements: i felt trapped, literally. my body was paralyzed, and even though i was in a place and situation that terrified me, i couldn't move.
i even realized it in the dream tonight...i was asleep but thought: hey, this happened not too long ago and i tried to force myself to move for over an hour. i'm busting out of this NOW! i was in a new apartment, in bed, i had just moved...with my eyes closed, i tried to imagine the layout of the apartment, tried in vain to remember the layout of my current apartment, and i couldn't.
that's when i forced myself (in my dream) out of bed and stumbled around an entirely different location than where i live, finding the bathroom, which was old and tiled, from the 1950s. the windows were open, with the screens having been cut off. i realized this when i reached out to touch the glass and there was nothing, just small flaps of screening on the sides. i was terrified, thinking that someone was going to climb in one of the windows and attack me.
i saw that there was an old crank with a handle that you can use to roll the windows shut, and i started frantically closing one, but when i rolled it too far, the window just opened in, instead of out. i was so convinced that some guy was going to jump out of the bushes, i was terrified. i finally got it adjusted and turned to close the other one, but decided that it was safer to just leave.
i jumped out of the second window into what i guess was the yard, but was in actuality soft and un-manicured, and felt like old hay. i lay there on my face, once again paralyzed. i couldn't do anything but try and flail around, paralyzed, waiting for someone to assault me. i forced myself to move, briefly waking up because my face was buried in my pillow and i was digging and kicking at the bed.
when i did wake up, i ran out of my room and started to cry. one of the worst things about living alone is not having anyone to console you when it's 4am and you have a bad dream. i've remembered lots of dreams the last few weeks, which is unusual. i used to remember them all the time, and they're always so bizarre that it's difficult to put them into words. there are no words, only images and emotions to describe what happens when i close my eyes.
i know how i feel, what i experience, and always (either right away or with analysis) what the dream means, but it's not really something i can put into words to describe to someone else. i'm not sure what that means.
phoenix gets scared when i'm upset, and i don't want him to suffer, so i made some tea and looked out the living room window...trying to get some perspective and remember that there's an entire world that lays behind my walls.
i mean, this is something i know, but it's hard to remember when it's the middle of the night, you're alone, and there's no one you'd want to bother with something so trivial. it's still really frightening and disorienting, and i just don't want to be by myself right now, but there's nothing i can do except drink my tea, hold my pillow, try to stop crying, and breathe...
normally, i'm okay by myself. i've lived alone for the majority of my adult life, but oddly enough, i've lived with at least one other person (other than phoenix and grayson) for the last year and a half. now i don't.
well, phoenix and grayson are here...until grayson's attempt to assassinate phoenix edges closer to success, then it's buh-bye kitty. not really, but if i don't threaten him, he doesn't have an excuse to try and shred the carpet, and then he loses his sense of purpose and life goals.
it's really quiet in here. i used to have to have music or the tv on all the time, but i got into the habit of having them off and not being uncomfortable because i didn't need the noise. i felt good in my skin, doing my thing, without having a distraction that was clouding my thoughts. i could focus without *trying* not to hear what was in my head.
then, i got into the habit of being alone with someone else, in the quiet. i had never really done that before; there was always some form of distraction most times that we interacted. i'm just now realizing that. however, in this new world, i could at least *feel* the presence of another person, and didn't crave the sound of a laugh track in the background that would force conversation.
now that person is gone...by my choice...and i know with every ounce of my being (what a cliche) that it's the right, and best, thing to do. being with someone who's not only incredibly emotionally unhealthy, but also tears me down and resents my very existence because i've managed to do something with my life, and NOT exist solely as a drug addict, is NOT someone i want to be with.
imagine how that person would behave when i do something noteworthy, like work on my education, pay off my car, or love something someone else, like a dog, for instance. how can anyone be jealous of phoenix? have you seen him? if he were any sweeter, he'd be lollipop, and i'm sorry, but someone who's been with me *every* minute of *every* day for almost nine years deserves not only an incredible amount of loyalty, belly rubs, and cookies, but a prize for "the longest-extended-stay-with-an-insane-person-without-succumbing-to-such-insanity" award.
nor do i deserve to be treated so badly by anyone, and why the hell would i want to be with someone like that in the first place? anyway, that's an entire blog by itself.
"sometimes i guess there just aren't enough rocks..."
i can't stand the quiet right now. it sounds strange, but it reinforces the fact that i'm alone...not alone, lonely. there were a lot of times when i was with him and even lonelier than i am now, but i guess i could somehow, in my warped mind, figure out a way to spin it into something else, or have hope that it was just a moment, a phase, that there was *something* i could do that would make him realize that he has potential and goals, and that even if no one else in the entire world thinks he's worthwhile, i'm willing to love him as much as i can, if he'd just do three things: be nice, tell me the truth, and respect me.
i think those are pretty basic, required elements in any relationship. was i asking for too much?
when i'm out, sometimes i just *want* to be home because it's comfortable, and i can eat cookie dough without people staring, and wear sweatpants 24/7, if i want to...but after awhile being home alone is starting to feel like solitary confinement to me. i'm trapped in a box with limited options, and because i am the way i am, i don't reach out, i don't speak, i withdraw, and i wither.
what's even worse is that i can't really listen to music right now, either. so much has been going on emotionally that the songs i like make me cry, and i mostly listen to songs with sad lyrics anyway, so i'm pretty much screwed. i also associate songs with time periods, and i don't *want* to remember most of the right now. i don't want to ruin my music...so i have the tv on pretty much allll the time, even when i'm sleeping. i've re-watched almost all five seasons of 'mad men' in less than a week.
it's netflix all night long...even if i wake up, and the tv show/movie i was watching is over, i pick another one. i can't tell you how many charles manson documentaries i've watched...someone with some sense of sanity and desire to sleep would just close her eyes and drift off, or watch something that *isn't* about mass murderers. not me. i can't fall back asleep in the quiet...that's when the wheels start to spin.
in the last six or eight months, i started taking showers after always taking baths...my entire life...and now i'm back to baths because i have to be able to hear the tv. i can't even handle twenty minutes of relaxing under a steaming stream of water without getting anxious.
hell, i drag my laptop into the bathroom and hook it up to the stereo so it's loud enough. i don't think i want to hear what's going on in my head because i don't want to deal with it, most of which i already have, but somehow, i seem to need to masochistically process it yet again.
having someone who's intermittently in your life, in an unhealthy way almost always, who's on the brink of self-destruction and buried in self-hatred is horrible. i've mourned this person's life, and anticipated his death, countless times. it's exhausting, but i feel responsible in some way for keeping him from completely disintegrating.
i've felt like his lifeline too many times and for too long to just shut it off, especially when i know that that's the worst thing i could do...because he won't learn. there will never be a cliff too high to fall from. there will never be a depth too low to sink to. every one of his painful, humiliating, self-defeating behaviors will be blamed on my absence.
to him, i'm a traitor.
to me, i'm trying to thrive, instead of just surviving.
i know it's not my job, but i also know that there's no one left to care for him...not really. too many bridges have been burned, and it's too late to salvage much of anything. letting go of hope is one of the most difficult things to do, but i think that's what i'm trying to ignore...because i know it must be done, and i don't want to. i don't know how let someone just suffocate under the weight of his own existence.
as cold as some people may think that i am, it couldn't be further from the truth. it never seems to occur to people, even those who know me, that there are reasons i put up walls...there are reasons i don't let you in...there are reasons i run away...and it's not because i'm heartless or cruel. it's self protection, plain and simple. i'm more sensitive than almost anyone could realize, and letting down someone i love, being crushed, not doing my absolute best, sends my self-worth into a spiral, so sometimes it's safer just to hide.
people are going to believe what they want, so you might as well do what's good for you, anyway.
the voice in my head that tells me that this situation is completely unfixable, there's no hope, nothing left to lose, every reason to let go. it's like living a small death - the death of hope and possibility - every time i think about the fact that he has no one, no money, no place to go, no real friends, no future because every time something good comes together, he tears it to shreds that much harder...i can't breathe.
you'd think that after this long, the voice would have become soundless white noise, but it's so loud i want to scream...so i turn on another sound...a sound of someone else's life that i can deal with, for now...it may not be mine, but it will let me avoid looking into the eyes of a death i cannot fathom or imagine...for just a little while longer...
so, i really hate being called a bitch, but i always use song titles for my posts, and that was the first thing that came to mind... anyway, i haven't written in about a year and a half. i'm not sure why i stopped, probably because i get bored easily, and when i do, i get lazy and apathetic. also, the last year and a half has pretty much been hell on earth. i'm also not very good at doing things on a consistent basis, except bathing, brushing my teeth, making my bed, paying bills, etc...ya know, things i have to do because i'm *slightly* OCD, and i'm starting to think i may have adult onset ADD, too, not even kidding.
i can't do one thing at a time...see, i was just talking about being consistent about things, and then i went off on a tangent about my self-diagnosed psychiatric disorders. back to where i was: when it comes to things that are "optional", however, i guess life just gets in the way...ironic because this blog has been about my life. well, either that or bitching about kim kardashian.
anyway, there's no way i can sum up what's happened in the last year and a half in one entry, unless it was fifty pages long, and even that would be somewhat of a summary. one thing i keep coming back to is: why don't i ever learn? i'm not a stupid person. i'm pretty cynical, but i want to believe in hope and the good in people so badly that i let those rose-colored glasses completely distort my vision.
part of the reason i'm writing again is because it's therapeutic and i'm hoping that i'll learn why i obviously need to be hit on the head with a fucking baseball bat in order to stop doing the same stupid things time after time.
elton john - 1974
"I entertain by picking brains, Sell my soul by dropping names. I don't like those, my god, what's that? Oh, it's full of nasty habits when the bitch gets back."
