River of Words

Posted by Leah on 8/27/2020 4:07:57 PM

I hardly know where to begin. The thoughts have been stewing, brewing, and churning for too long without real (fully open and honest) outlet. One minute I think of some grand new scheme for this or that, some novel new way I’ll be freer, happier, calmer; the next I’m in a shambles, crying till I gag because I’m the worst human who ever lived and the fact that I’m still here at all is what’s really wrong with the world. I can’t tell if I’m actually making progress on anything at all. If I’m actually growing and changing as much as I believe I am, or if the entire perception is just another delusion. People keep telling me I’m fine, it’s all in my head, just calm down. I’m trying, damnit. I’m trying.

I was thinking yesterday that maybe believing I’ll ever amount to anything as a writer is nothing but a delusion, too. Sure, people have told me over and over I have ‘great promise’, or whatever, but that doesn’t mean I don’t actually suck. What if they were just being nice? A lot of people do that (even when I beg for frankness). How am I supposed to know for sure?
What the hell is reality, anyway? And how do any of us agree on any of it, when so much of it is based on perception?

I like to think I’m smart, but then I get hung up on 3 jocks at Job Lot laughing at me yesterday. I wanted to try dressing more “whatever,” so I was in a blue dress, purple grizzly bear head leggings, a maroon cardigan and a sweatshirt, along with the mandatory mask. I was trying to block them out, so I didn’t hear what they were saying. I have no idea why they got so close to me, or why they were laughing, or why the cashier was turning red and anxious. I imagine it had to do with my clothes, and full shopping cart. Maybe it was the gloves, but if that’s it I really don’t care. I’m not taking chances right now. But I really fucking hate going out in public now, ever, for anything. It’s always weird. No one knows how to act, and every emotion is amplified. It gives me a headache and makes me nervous.

I don’t feel like I have a grasp on much of anything at the moment. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve shed the persona I’ve used for the past 14 years; at least as it pertains to the people I interact with in and around my home and town. I don’t have any weekly or more frequent things going on; no volunteer work, no classes, nothing. I’ve been trying for the past 2-3 weeks to stick to a relatively loose daily schedule, but I’m too lax, I let myself slip constantly. I even tried writing out a more rigid schedule to try for today, and I haven’t followed it a bit. I’m so lazy and distractible.

It’s like my time is split in thirds lately, and I never know which third is next: in one third I’m depressed, morose and withdrawn. I don’t feel like doing much, don’t talk to anyone and get very little accomplished. In another I’m deliriously happy. I don’t have a care in the world (to an extent), and I’m nearly always smiling. Unfortunately, this one never lasts long. Then there’s the last third. In this one I can’t stop the tears from flowing no matter how hard I try. I carry tissues with me all day long, never knowing when the next bout will strike. This one’s the most exhausting. Lately this one’s been lasting the longest.

I wish I knew what the hell is causing all this. Not because I want medication to make it stop or whatever, but because understanding it helps me learn how to cope, deal with, and live with it. I’ve done my stint on antidepressants and such. Too many weird side effects. I feel weird enough on my own. But, is it the multiple TBIs? The BPD? Hormones? The collective PTSD we’re all living through at the moment? No one will do the tests to tell me, so I continue to search for answers on my own. I’ve got a few books coming. Assuming I can read and retain the info without too many headaches, maybe I’ll learn a few things. Those are big “ifs” though.

In the past, when I’ve gone through periods like this, music has helped me through. I end up finding a song, or band, or album that speaks to the depths of my soul in that moment like nothing else does. I think another part of what’s throwing me is that I don’t have my musical crutch. I don’t have a new band, song, or album I’ve latched on to. There’s nothing out right now that speaks to me in the way I need. I won’t give up the search; it’s odd that it’s taking so long though.

I keep feeling the burning urge to create. The primal need to paint, draw, write, sew, color, build, anything! But I’m even fucking that up. I’ve got so many half finished projects around at the moment, it feels like I’m drowning in them. I’m trying my best to get caught up, to finally get really and truly organized, but it’s never fully happened. They’ll find my body among the fabric scraps, wine corks, markers and glue, the day after the projects join forces and kill me. To anyone I’ve promised to mail something, it’s almost done, really!

I’m not sure how to cap off this random river of thoughts, so look for another volume of Dispatches from the Deep Woods soon, and now I’ll leave you with this quote from Alexander von Humbolt:

“There are some races more cultured and advanced and ennobled by education than others; but there are no races nobler than others. All are equally destined for freedom.”