There’s something about the science fiction movie “Sunshine” that makes me watch it every time it comes on TV.
I own a copy of the DVD.
It’s just such a great science fiction movie that I can’t resist the allure of watching it when it appears.
You have to see it from the beginning, so you can understand the story and be sucked into the madness.
Today was a bad day and I’m having a hard time pretending that it wasn’t.
Everyone seemed much happier and more relaxed once I left the living room and went upstairs.
I guess the problem was me. It usually is.
*
I haven’t been posting a whole lot because I don’t want to bring everybody down. In my depressed moments, there’s a gaping well of blackness inside me, a bottomless drop ready to pull in anyone that’s not ready for it. Then things cycle, and while the complaint still lingers on my lips I’m laughing about something and I forget all the reasons why I was so angry and upset.
Realizing that you’re spiraling doesn’t help. Especially when everyone around you is picking you apart at every moment.
It’s exhausting.
*
Everybody’s so unhappy. It’s like the house is full of poison.
No matter what direction I turn, there’s only frowning faces. And being me, I can’t help switching to Appeasement Mode, which means receiving tons of abuse and not having the emotional wherewithal to deal with it.
There’s a lot of anxiety involved when you’re driven to make unhappy people happy. Especially when they don’t want to be happy.
Because even knowing that it’s all fake–that none of the anxiety, the dread, or the overwhelming sense of despair are real–they feel real.
And if you live something deep enough, long enough, doesn’t it become real?
Maybe I’m projecting my unhappiness to some degree, but not completely. It’s a fact: I am not the only unhappy person in my family.
I’m just the only one willing to admit it.
There are times in my life when I feel as though I’m falling into the moment.
My skin is melting off. And no one else can see. But I feel the weight pulling me down.
It’s strange. — The breaking apart. // It leaves me breathless.
One moment I’ll be washing dishes. The next … here I am.
My fingertip throbs with a deep, badly healing gash. // I must have forgotten to take care of me again.
Sometimes I wander through the grocery store, squirreling away the monthly supplies. It feels like everyone is looking at me. (They are. They are. They so fucking are.)
I think learning programming languages is calming me down. // It’s like I’m visiting a whole different world. — I made a JavaScript thing (Story Prompt Generator).
Time is passing by — it takes me with it. // I worry sometimes that I’m going to forget myself and disappear.
But worrying does nothing but add to worries. // Everything is going to be all right.
Somehow.
This is my fifth (sixth?) time attempting to write this.
It’s nothing too bad. I promise.
It’s just that money is a problem, and as I currently am, I cannot make or hold onto a whole lot of it. It’s pissing my family off.
I feel like I’ve been on the brink of a breakdown for YEARS. Ups, downs, all arounds — it’s getting harder and harder to keep smiling.
I’ve got an appointment in the weeks to come. Maybe it will be all talk therapy and I can keep on keeping on, or maybe it will be medication — which can get a bit weird.
Remember the crazy ranting of my teenage years? Yeah.
That was when all my poetry dried up. Though I’d already stopped talking to you V. because my brain makes everything scarier than it has to be. Credit to you for trying to keep in touch, but there wasn’t much you could do from the UK for me in the USA.
(When the light falls dim
in darkling shade
with winterberry hearts
I drink and think.
Would you remember
what I do?
Would you hold on
like me?
Oreo-kisses and girl sighs
overhung by the world
cast in silver linings
I breathe in the moon.)
Its been years and gone. My life since has been polite acquiescence to the whims of my mental health. Cutting things out, dimming things down, folding myself up into a little box while the world outside passes me by.
Its reached the point where I’ve either gotta fix my brain enough to get an out-in-the-world job, or I’ve gotta fix my brain enough to be able to build and maintain my author brand.
As it is, without structure and guidance, I’m losing track of time and my schedule falls all to pieces. I need to be able to focus, and I can’t.
I’m anxious about the appointment. But its been a long time coming.
~Pax