Happy New Year?

Ok, back to the original purge at hand…

This is just a big ol pity party brain purge. I’m completely blocked to any other creative ventures right now as my brain is full with “pity poo”. So, I’m dumping it in an attempt to open my neural pathways and spark some creativity, and motivation, and perhaps some hope…*you have been warned*

My news feed,  twitter stream, instagram home page, fuck… the web in general, is filled with joy, and engagement announcements, and baby bumps and bundles, and new jobs, and old fulfilling jobs, and hope, and anticipation, and resolutions, and motivation…
While my internet voice, for the most part, has remained quiet; a stagnant slap in the face each day, reminding me of how I’m feeling: Old, and tired, and stuck, and scared, and scarred, and unworthy, and inadequate, and intolerant, and impatience, and lost, and … empty.

And I want to be authentic and honest about what I’m feeling and where I’m at, especially because nothing pisses me off more lately than people faking happy, or forcing celebration, or being completely inauthentic about who they are and what they stand for, all in attention seeking, “cry for help” ways. And I want to scream and lash out most of the time, at others, and myself, and the world in general,  but I don’t want to be the person that pisses in everyone’s Shreddies. And there are people out there with legitimate gripes, and sadness, that they haven’t brought upon themselves, voicing their situations, which makes my “stuff” pale by comparison. So instead I sit silent or share the most superficial, mediocre, or fleeting moments of life. My way of placating the other humans in my life so they get the impression I’m still “living”, but also a way of trying to find the positive moments in the pool of negative I am mired in every. fucking. day.

I’m frustrated that after such an amazing start to my year, my legs got kicked out from under me halfway through 2013, and that just when I started to regain my footing and my purpose again, the rug got pulled out from under me as the year drew to a close, leaving me with little joy over the holidays, and little to no hope coming into the new year. Sort of a microcosm of my entire life reflected in one calendar year.

I hate that for all my good intentions in my life, I have somehow paved myself a road to hell.

I’m gutted that all of my plans for 2014 have already derailed, and that I feel so frozen in fear and chaos that I feel I can’t fathom making any new ones.

I hate, HATE not having the means to say “I would like to do this” and then make it happen. No matter how big or small.

I’m so fucking disappointed and angry at myself right now. Years of stupid decisions, and bad choices, and trusting the wrong people, and not taking chances, and taking too many chances, and on and on…, have me starting out the new year broke, and alone, and with nothing good on the immediate horizon.

The angry and sad is swallowing me up, and I have no one to blame but myself, which just makes it worse. And the thought of leaving my apartment causes panic as I am on the verge of tears more often than not, never knowing if I’m going to get from point A to point B without losing my shit in front of a group of strangers, or worse, friends. Friends. Ha! if there is one thing I’ve learned as I get older, and especially over the last couple of years. One doesn’t make friends anymore. They make”frienemies”. Or perhaps that’s just me. Over the years I seem to have accumulated a bunch of those. Acquaintances who are/were  “friends” only to usurp my knowledge, help, resources, and other acquaintances, or to increase their cred, Klout score, “hits”, etc… Superficial at best, and “friends” by the loosest of definitions.

I can count on one hand the people I would actually trust to count on were I to feel I deserved any help from anyone. A few weeks ago I might have used two hands, but in hindsight… not so much. And even at that, these folks have their own mountain of debris to clear from their own personal shitstorms… I couldn’t possibly expect them to have the energy or resources to help me with mine.

So I get up everyday, and I roll with the punches following unrestful nights, and I convince myself to get dressed, and work, and do menial tasks, and distract myself, and eventually I leave the apartment. And somewhere deep down I believe it will all work itself out, but for the immediate future, I am caught between the desire to curl up in the fetal position or “fake it till I make it” and just move ahead with plans for a future on the assumption that I will have one even remotely close to anything I’ve envisioned or hoped for for myself for this year and beyond.

*and exhale*

I know this is sort of cryptic. Don’t worry, I’m not dying or anything (at least that I know of)  I’ve just colossally fucked up, and am too humiliated to divulge further.

“Sometimes you have to get knocked down lower than you have ever been, to stand up taller than you ever were.”

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