Good enough

There are ways to make getting drunk alone enjoyable but waking up alone and hung-over is still no fun. So I just laid in bed until my head cleared recounting the previous days activities. I probably started drinking just as I made my last post. I began work on another but quickly turned from writing to talking on the phone. I never got out of the clothes I slept in the night before. I had liquor and pizza delivered to my house. Over the course of fourteen hours I drank eleven beers, half a pint of whiskey and spent eight hours on the phone.

This week has been quite the roller coaster ride for me. I’m very grateful that I have this outlet in which to write about it but even more important to me have been the friends that have stood by me. As much as I want to believe that I don’t need anybody, as much as I want to believe that nobody needs me; the truth is inescapable.

The truth is that there are some people in my life with whom I cannot live without. The scarier fact is that there are people in this world that cannot imagine a life without me in it. There are people for whom my very existence gives their life hope and meaning. I’ve got to say, that is a pretty big pill to swallow. As appealing as suicide seems sometimes, it is simply not an option for me. I have a responsibility to be here. You have a responsibility to never let me forget that.

Seriously, I need your help. I love that there are people who think that I am amazing but I don’t really feel all that amazing. That is simply too much to live up to. The truth is I’m fragile and I hurt. The truth is I struggle and I fuck up. I want to be amazing but when I fall short it is devastating to me. It is devastating to others as well. I really just want to hear that I am good enough but maybe that is not an option. So if i have to be amazing, I’m going to need your help.

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Life is like riding a bicycle

I’m on the verge of falling apart. I can feel it in my body – the tightness in my stomach, invisible hands wrapped around my throat, the tingling in my back as if to warn me of some impending danger. Regardless of how many times my evolved brain tries to convince me that everything will be okay, no matter what happens I will be fine, my reptilian brain is on high alert.

My residual animal defence mechanisms know that winter is coming and after months of intense stress I may be too weak to survive it. My body is ready to fight for it’s life. I’m on edge, I’m anxious, I’m exhausted and depressed. One wrong move and I’m liable to bite someone’s head off.

The threats are real, the pain I feel is real but my ability to cope and adapt is more developed than my body gives credit. The greatest battle being waged is within myself. The greatest threat to my survival is me. In an internal struggle for power the best chance of survival is balance. Like riding a bicycle, the only way to stay balanced is to keep moving… or stop and put your foot down.

This life is for the birds

It’s five-thirty in the morning. The birds are are beginning to chirp. These are the same birds that earlier this week kept me awake as I was trying to get to sleep. Now my sleep schedule has completely turned around and I am trying to wake up. Still, I am unable to move. Words form in my head and I wonder if I will be able to deliver them safely to their home on the page before they are lost forever to the nether regions of my brain.

I have been struggling to write this post all week. It’s amazing how much can change in a matter of days. It’s amazing how many contradictory thoughts I can hold in my head at the same time. The challenges I faced at the beginning of the week seem completely contrary to the challenges I face today, yet for some reason they remain lodged in my perception.

Two versions of my reality stare each other down, each vying for control of my life yet locked in stalemate. One version is fueled by self-confidence, the hard won knowledge that I am doing the best that I can and that it is working. The other, fueled by depression, tells me that this is too hard, that I should give up, that there is no point to continuing, that everything I have tried so hard to build is built on sand and will fall to pieces under the slightest breeze.

The confidence is new to me, the depression is not although it has been some time since I have felt its presents so profoundly. Still, I recognize its signature traits. I know it is chemistry. For years I have fought back with chemicals; now I fight back with knowledge. Over time the chemicals have lost their potency but knowledge continues to gain strength. The knowledge most vital is that time is the only weapon that will defeat this adversary. It is this knowledge that keeps me hanging on in spite of everything which tells me to give up.

But knowledge is not enough. Of all the issues I face, depression is the most debilitating, challenging to overcome and the most deadly. Knowledge is enough to let me know that I can survive this. Knowledge is the reason why I have to survive this. Knowledge is the reason I keep doing the right thing even though my impulse is to completely lose it and tear everything apart.

It doesn’t seem fair. Why do I have to take responsibility for my demons when nobody else seems to? Why do I need to rise above it and be the better person? Why do I have to hold onto my pain?  Why can’t I just lash out at the world? Why can’t I fight back when I am under attack? Why do I get held to a higher standard? Why do I hold myself to a higher standard than I hold anyone else? Why do I have to be so understanding?

Oh yeah, because I know…

Life sucks… so what!

It’s all we’ve got so I might as well do what I can to make it suck a little bit less. No gain will be made by putting more pain into the world.

So here I go again… Off to do what I can to make the world a better place.

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