So maybe I'm not as depressed as I think or imagine myself to be. I got up today on time, after sleeping poorly, because I had a Dr.s appointment and want to maintain my prescriptions for the medications that help make my life manageable. While I criticize myself, and life, for it's addictions ,I'm grateful that these medications are legal and have a minimal (yet significant) side affects on my life. I enjoy being able to moderate my drug use and even manage to quit smoking and drinking when I'm clear on the costs and seeing that i have a choice of how to live these last few or many years of my life. I drift off or "wake up" as happens, take a day or two off work, and come and go, pretty much as I please. What good fortune amidst suffering!
While I don't write much anymore, it's not because I'm not thinking, I'm just not believing my thoughts as much. I'm still angry and depressed at times, or at myself and the world. I take it far to seriously: Convinced that humanity is a blight on the planet when left to it's own devices. We seem to tend toward greed, violence and overpopulation without comprehension of how this makes all our own lives less pleasurable. I'm both frustrated with humanity and totally heartbroken and joyful when I see a child and the love, wonder and beauty that each individual is. . . I wonder if staph cells see each other as beautiful?
It's both an ironic and serious question. Ironic because I realize that it's highly unlikely that staph cells have self awareness and because the same can be said about humans and myself. . . While I like to think of myself as "aware & awake" it's clear that I drift off too sleep with consistent regularity. This is both true figuratively and latterly. I can drift off into puttering around the house quite easily and enjoyably, generally cleaning, throwing stuff away etc. only to find that hours have went by and I've not "accomplished" much or "done anything" with my day.
It's interesting today is a bit overcast and cloudy and I'm likely to not go to work (Its 2 PM) and yet I'm still fairly happy and content.
I don't feel much has changed around our "relationship" only that I have become more and more willing and able to accept it as it is (somewhat shallow and distant) yet satisfying in the appearance and reality of our mutual familiarity and comfort with each other. While I believe she is not deeply "attached" to me, she does display much discomfort and un ease with my personal pain or depression and as such is totally averse to my discussion of suicide or wanting not to "be" here yet either way, I have learned not to express or elocute such feeling directly too, or with, her.
"My" depression or suicidality is gradually declining as I see my own aging happening before my eyes. As my own presence is becoming a clearly transient experience, there is less and less need to end my life prematurely. I trust that I will and can manage to live out my days in some semblance of peace and acceptance and gratitude for the minimal suffering that I actually experience. As I listen and ponder the Buddhist teachings of Chogyam Trungpa and Pemma Chodron I accept and appreciate my life and situation more and more. As well as I see that my own personal "need" for the therapeutic process is less acute than a year or two ago. I'm reluctant to pursue another relationship, at this time. I do have the appointments and will go again this week, but I'm tempted to try to see if switching to every other week or once a month is a realistic option. It's partially the timing and partially the fact that while I'm depressed and semi-suicidal, it is profoundly situational in cause and shape. While I recognize that I'm both more and less likely to commit suicide the need for discussion and help around the issue seems less of an issue. Maybe I don't want to talk about it because I feel like talking about it exacerbates the situation and again, on the other hand talking about it seems to concertize the fantasy and desire from an intangible into a reality.
It's imperative to recognize, both for myself, and for anyone who ever reads these long rambling missives, to know how deeply I love life. How grateful I am for the blue of the sky, the sunlight on the fence, the knowledge that this whole mad wild insane world is out there running around defying death and life, as I sit and ruminate, love and suffer and genuinely appreciate some tiny slice of humanity.
I know that my life is actually very small. That while I have traveled a bit, I have always held back, even in my madness and exuberance, there has been some holding back and some withdrawal from fully engaging in life.
I don't know when I started, If I had to guess, id say when we left Wisconsin, or the year before, when whatever happened is lost to that child that was robbed of something called hope or desire to aspire.
Aspiration has always been difficult for me. Perhaps the last one I truly had was to die or to "fail" and that was when I was 12 or 13. And I guess I did in so many tragic ways. I really started to fail. I got hurt, almost blinded in my left eye, and something changed after that even though I never could say why. Yet even though I knowingly denied whatever grandeur or fame life might have held, I could not destroy the actual joy of love and the gnosis of life.
My life is like that, a long series of wounds and failures compensated by success or grace.
I have been showered with the love of so many beautiful human beings, and I must say that I know that it is love, not the need that is the gift. For too often it is our need and fears that drive, dispose of and destroy our dreams of love from ever reaching fruition.
I don't know what I'm saying, but I trust you know that you have received it.
I just know.
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