Aug. 31st, 2002

rockettqween: (Default)
I don't know what's been going on with this week but geez. It's been so hard to function lately. I've been feeling like a little kid that's being picked on by slightly bigger kids. And I'm just about at that curl up in the sand and scream "stop hitting me!!!" stage. Everything's frustrating me. I keep telling myself life isn't that bad. Look - great boyfriend, good friends, butterfinger candy bars, I'm not starving, I have a place to sleep and shit!

But really.

I feel like a raw exposed nerve, a gaping wound.

Oh well. I got someone at the Mercury to do the hand jive tonight and the "I'm a Tree!" goth dance. It's a good night when you get people to do the hand jive in a goth club. I also ran up to a random stranger, grabbed him by the shoulders, jumped up and down and said, "C'mon! Let's go play on the swings! It'll be fun! C'mon and I dragged him into the back room and said to [ profile] bobhadbitchtits, "Hey! This guy wants to play on the swings with us!!!" Apparently I scared the guy away. I didn't bother to introduce myself either.

I've been wondering what I would think of me if I hung out with me. I've been wondering how my friends see me. Why? I'm self-obsessed. Duh.

Oh, I want to move back to the hill so bad. But I can't. I have no money, no job, and bad credit. I feel kind of isolated in Renton. Plus I hate having roommates. I always have.

The mentor wrote a poem for me. Here's an excerpt:

Femme fatale
and existential pal
who understands the grip of schtick,
forever at the edge of the performance edifice.
She knows that in the end
there is but one way to go
and that is over that hey-look-at-me cliff!

I was touched.

Hmmm... better to try for something fantastic and fail than to live a normal life never trying for anything other that socially acceptable.

Something's gotta break soon.

"There's a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." - Leonard Cohen

No effort in faith is ever wasted.

Buckled down and hit up an AA sponsorship coordinater for a new sponsor. My first assignment is to write down my drunkalogue and go through the years writing down every little debaucle that my drinking and drugging helped create and how that shaped me and affected my life, personality, work, sexuality, relationships, family, etc.

I give up. If AA works for so many weird ass people, what's the harm in giving it a real try. The most I'd lose is a chunk of time I could be devoting to killing brain cells. I can always kill them later if I wish. Meanwhile, I live vicariously through others killing their brain cells.

I'm kind of miserable inside my head right now. I think attempting to rearrange its contents via 12 steps combined with that shadow self integration thing I'm doing could be proactive.

I really wish alcohol worked. I wish I could get ahold of some valium too. Why do I have to be addiction-prone? It sucks. And to top it off, I'm allergic to wheat/gluten and cheese and shit. Couldn't I at least eat cake? I mean, if I have to be alcoholic, couldn't I at least eat the cookies at the damn meetings? Shit.

I wanted to drink tonight. Very very badly. I never should have read Ernest Hemingway when I was 16.

But god, could I quit fucking crying already? Sheesh. Every day I cry. It's getting old. I'm sure my workout partner is sick of it even though he says he doesn't mind and devotes himself to taking care of me when I'm inconsolable and afraid to leave the room.

I don't understand how someone can be so patient. I've been in some pretty nasty relationships before so this seems really strange to me. I've not had someone care quite like this before.

I think about the last 7 years and wonder how the hell I made it sometimes.

Being with my workout partner is strange sometimes. Sometimes I feel like I've always been living this life with him and I'm just waking up out of some strange nightmare. However, the nighmare was pretty intense and shook me up quite a bit and it's taking me a while to wake up.

Everyone I've been with before has tried to change me and ridiculed any pastimes I wanted to pursue as unimportant, impractical, or threating to them. It's very different to be with someone who says, "Oh, it makes you happy? Here. Let me support you in it. No matter what it is."

Being with someone leagues above past relationships has also dug up a lot of anger at the past I didn't even know I had. Once again I feel like the little kid that's just been beat up by someone much bigger, looking up in tears and saying, "why'd you do that? I don't understand."

I'm on the verge of tears again.

I miss my son.


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