Monday, May 28, 2012

my story is much too sad to be told...

but practically everything leaves me totally cold --
The only exception I know is the case
When I'm out on a quiet spree
Fighting vainly the old ennui
And I suddenly turn and see
Your fabulous face.

-- "I Get A Kick Out of You," lyrics by Cole Porter

Sung by Frank Sinatra

One of the many troubles with this is I have nobody's fabulous face to turn and see. But oh, lawdy, that is another 100 posts or so. I'm not getting into it now.

It's a beautiful day. Sunny, warm, bit of a breeze. I spent a leisurely amount of time at the gym, got a nap, played infinite rounds of Words with Friends, did a little shopping. So far there is absolutely nothing wrong with this day.

Except that I woke up.

Except that I made myself get up and do stuff, rather than wallow.

Except that this sunny, warm, beautiful day would only be perfect for me if I could spend it in bed, curled in a ball, rocking back and forth and wishing the misery would just END, please.

One of my dearest friends is a psychologist who specializes in positive psychology. (Yep, happiness has its own subfield. Says a lot about the emotional state of mankind these days, n'est-ce pas?) For the past 40-odd days, I've been doing a daily "gratitude list" -- looking back over the day and trying to figure out what was good about it, and how to reframe it if it sucked.

Doing those lists *has* shown me there are things to be grateful for. I know a huge one is that I have a lot of people who love me and would be upset if I checked out.

It doesn't matter. I figure you all will get over it. Me, I'm tired of hurting. I am beyond tired of mood swings that occur within the same day (whatever happened to getting weeks, at least?). I am tired of having to put on a happy face when I'm not happy. I am not wired to be happy. Chalk it up to chemicals or conditioning or whatever you please, but I got life's short end of the stick when it comes to love and success and peace and happiness. I got abuse and hate and pain. *Other* people got happy.

So no matter how many of those lists I do, I can't see it the happiness sticking. Right now, all I can see is that everything hurts, and bad stuff sticks around longer than good stuff, which to me appears to be ephemeral.

I have lost, or never even gotten, many of the more enjoyable things in life because of my mental health. I mean really, all things being equal, would you want to get involved with someone -- in any form -- as big of a mess as I am? Who would voluntarily consider the pros and cons and find the pros win, come hell or high water? So far the answer's "no one." I suspect that is where it will remain. Nobody ever wants the defective ones....and I pretty much define the word "defective" in most major areas.

I am putting this out there because I feel like I need to explain what it feels like when I get this way. I don't know how to describe just how much it hurts, but I need to try. It's like I have boulders tied to the outside of my body, and something between a permanent fire and a twisting, very sharp knife on the inside. That's why I cut, actually -- the physical pain takes away the emotional pain. Briefly. I'd still rather not be here.

I don't buy into the whole heaven and hell thing, but if there is a god cruel and capricious enough to send people to eternal torment simply for deciding when to call it a life by themselves -- hell isn't going to hurt any worse than life did for me, so bring it on. My conception of what happens after death is eternal nothingness. I think it sounds blissful. Peace and blackness ... no one can touch me, no one can hurt me, including my brain.

I don't think anyone will be able to turn me permanently to the happy side. My bad wiring is going to keep dragging me down like this at intervals. So it goes....

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