Do you ever feel like you’re going in the opposite direction? Like you’re getting older but less confident and more destructive? It was like something caught at 25 and my life didn’t just plateau, it dropped.
I never write. I’m addicted to my phone. I have horrible sleeping patterns. I drink too much. Smoke too much. Definitely don’t eat enough. Don’t read enough. Talk too much about fucking nothing and not enough about anything worthwhile. Oh and I have no idea what I want to do with my life – hence a new job every 8 months. Oh and I don’t read the news.
I’m not gaining friends, just losing more. I feel like I’m getting more anti-social. Definitely more judgmental. Oh, and irritable, moody and sensitive.
I feel like something’s blocking me. Like some fog seeped into my bones in the middle of the night and has contaminated my blood. Or like there’s a valve and it contains all the good I once had, all the creativity, joy, spontaneity, all the amazing qualities people once loved in me, and it’s jammed.
I’m going to Las Vegas with my dad tomorrow. No, I haven’t really thought about it. I’ve gotten really good at blocking things out in order to get through them. I just don’t think about it – a quality my family has skillfully mastered. “I don’t want to talk about” should be our mantra.
But this isn’t about them. Every family has their issues. Mine are relatively suburban. Right now I just need to get to Vegas, attend 6 days of meetings, not get drunk and definitely not have any meltdowns.
I’ve gotten pretty good at drinking. Not at drinking less, just handling it better. Or at least I think I have. Another thing that’s definitely blocked is my self awareness. I really have no perception of my self anymore. Except when I’m going into sink holes of depression because I caught my reflection in the black computer screen. Then I’m super self aware.
When I’m really depressed I try and think of all the things I do like: Jazz. Richard Linklater films. Woody Allen films (the old ones). Any good film that isn’t action. Paris. Italy. A really good book. Comedians. A great cop show. Tea. Strong coffee. Could I be anymore basic? (<— see! There is is again, the goddamn self awareness).
God I’m so fucking sick of this wallowing. Is there anything else I can talk about? Jesus.
PS. Why don’t therapists shake hands? Weird.