I am a mess, right now – what else is new, right? I have gotten a little done today – I completed some important paperwork for SSI. I do feel a little better about that. Of course, it’s late (not very – and, I think it will be okay). My case os up for review – last time they sent two requests for the information before giving up, and they still reapproved my case. So, hopefully, being a few days late on their first request won’t matter. I am certainly unable to hold down a job, right now. I would love to work – but I am not stable enough. More than anything, I wnat to go back to school, but I nkow I am not yet ready for that, financially, and perhaps not physically or psychologically, either.
I have a lot of trouble with appointments and deadlines – a problem that has only gotten worse over the years. I have been working on this problem for a while, but my progress is limited.
An old health problem is flaring up – like I don’t have enough going on. I know, wah-wah-wah… I get on my own nerves, so you have my apologies for being so whiny and annoying.
I defer too much. It’s an almost irresistable impulse at times. My sudden impulses can be so nuts and self destructive. There was a time when I was so torn up that I didn’t care how far I fell. Then, there was a time, when it did not seem to matter, because I was never going to get up, again. After that, I was afraid to try, because I did not want to prove what I already suspected – that I was past all hope, and could not be saved. Thanks to some psychotherapy and some serious introspection, I have come to the conclusion that these feelings go back pretty far, and run very deep – they aren’t just about how well I am doing at the moment.
My home life was so screwy when I was a kid. I didn’t think I was pretty enough, or smart enough, or any such thing. I always felt different. My interests and habits weren’t like those of other kids. My tastes were more adult – as a first grader I liked war films and 60 Minutes. I never fit in. I didn’t even try – I knew it would be futile, and I would constantly be disappointed on yet another level. Nothing ever seemed good enough for my parents, even though I performed well academically and was an avid volunteer, once I was old enough. And, when I was a kid, I thought I was bad, because that gave me a sense of control – if I was bad, and at least partly responsible for the chaos in our house, then I could change, and be better, and ultimately improve the situation in our home. Those thoughts were reinforced by my parents and their expectations – they could both be so critical, and they both used guilt as a weapon. My father had no idea how to deal with small children and I felt as though I was constantly offending, just by being a kid.
Even knowing better, I still feel like there is something bad about me. When I was a teenager, I thought I had people fooled into thinking I had talents and intelligence, and that any time they would catch on to the fact that I was a fraud. By the time I was in college, I recognized that I had certain skills, but I hated myself by then. I have since used my talents and intelligence to screw myself over, as much as anything. To be a clever junkie, and so forth… but, I am trying to do better. Trying to take care of myself, and care ABOUT myself…
we’ll see how it turns out. However sad this story may be, it’s my story, and my truth, and this is the only place I have been able to write anything at all, for months, now. The absence of some form of creative writing is breaking me down, in a way that is very difficult to manage, but I have managed to hold on, so far. Hopefully, I will continue to do so. I really don’t know how it’s going to turn out. I never would’ve guessed my little quest would get this far. Time will tell.