One of These Days, I'll Post When I'm Happy

 I've been in a contemplative state. Neither good nor bad, it just is.

I've been wondering if everyone views themselves as the heros, or villains in their own story...

I'm the support character. On a good day. 

A martyr on a bad one.

I genuinely want others in my life to be happy. No matter the self sacrifice it costs to me. I am also needy, and attention whorey without meaning to. 
With the way that things have been going, since getting married, I've been spending more time alone. 
I chat with myself as I walk the dog. 
My internal dialogue is no longer just inside my head, but spoken aloud.
When it is all internal... I'm smoking.

I'd always imagine, someone else asking the questions, and myself answering. Between inhales of smoke, 
In this scenario, I'm chain smoking. Not cigarettes, but cigars. Which is probably brought on by the last time I had too much to drink and gave into that oral fixation.

I'm not a support character, though. I'm me, but I have no idea who that person is. Maybe nobody does. I wear too many masks. I'm that person who would do anything to make someone else happy, even if that means to alter my own personality.... Which is a personality in of itself, is it not?

The husband has been trying to get his book finished, and published. So I won't work so hard to finish mine or publish them. I have postponed honing my baking skills because I have others who want to succeed. I'd study photography more, but honestly? I don't want to be in contest with others. I'll stick with my phone pictures.

The question comes down to, in this situation, am I doing these things BECAUSE I think it would be better than others? Or because I think others are so much better than me?

The wasted potential runs in my family.

I'm getting back into Boudoir, which is more empowering than not. Someone told me that they wish they had my confidence. 
I don't have much self confidence. I do these things because, while I don't understand how or why, I know that others find it appealing. 
At the very least, my husband.

I've been manic for so long, through Covid, through the holidays, the crash has been eternal. I can't seem to find my focus. 
Especially while home alone, more often than not. 
My brain needs a hard reset. But it's been two years since I've done it. I'm proud of myself. 
There has to be another way.

This is the part where another person would ask a question, and I'd take another drag. Tossing the smoke to the black sky.

While I play this scenario in my head over and over again, even fell asleep to it, I can't remember the questions; nor my answers.


I'm not suicidal, which is a huge step for me in this phase, but I'm stuck. Just stuck.
I'm so tired of being stuck, but what would get me unstuck?

Apparently, me wanting companionship while I'm alone, so I'm not alone, is a form of manipulation and using another human.
I just want to be on someone's mind when I'm not around.
I don't think I know what that feels like. 
Out of sight, out of mind.

Maybe this is my mid-life crisis. 

I desperately need to get to the ocean. To hear something more powerful than humans, to stare into the void as if I'm at the edge of a cliff looking over, and yet not feeling fear.

I've had my feet knocked out from under me, as waves try their best to keep me submerged. I've lost footing in a river, I've been sucked down below the currents by quick sand and mud.
And yet. no fear.

Maybe I need to take this time alone, and figure out just who I am. Maybe I'm tired of being the chameleon. Maybe those masks that I wear are what is weighing me down.

But it doesn't change the fact that I feel happiest, when I can help someone else feel happy.
Is it so wrong to have my identity so tied to how much I can do for others?

I suppose it is, when I feel jaded, or discouraged, when they don't return the favor. 

Welcome to the post manic crash. I've been so high for so long. It's long overdue for me to delve into the depths of me and make a nice home.

My usual self destruction has turned inward. (Would it be self destruction if it didn't?) But not in the forms of pain....
Apparently my mentality wants to attack what I am most vain about. I've had dreams of me chopping off the rest of my hair, because "It's awful, and so are you." as I stared myself down in the mirror. 
I've been fighting this urge to take it out on what I used to cherish most, for months.
I cut off 8 inches in December, I hate the cut. I hate how short it is now. I grew my hair out for years to get it to my hips. I chopped it off. 
And now I want to chop it off more.

I want to run away from who I am, and who I was. I need a new me. But why do I want to destroy everything I've valued?

I had a panic attack at work in November. 
The husband was nowhere to be found.
Just like when I was rushed to the hospital,
Just like when my father died.

I don't need someone often. But damn, if it doesn't hurt when the one human I need won't be there.
It would be FINE if I could rely on others. When my father died a good friend offered to pick me up from work and drive me to my parent's house while Doug was ignoring all my phone calls.
The guilt trip that I went to someone else, no... That someone else was coming to my rescue. Isn't worth it.

My panic attack was a rehash of all that; and just like last time; he was with someone else.

Out of sight, Out of mind.

Maybe this year I'll discover who I am.
I say that every year.


Maybe I'll pick a thing and try to hone it, attempt to not waste my own potential.
But again, I say that every year.


I had a dream where someone was telling me I was worth fighting for. Maybe I'll hold onto that dream more than the one where I wanted to cut off all my hair. 

I'm kind of bouncing back and fourth on my topics, but that is the muddied mess that my mindset is in. 

I keep going back to just settling for a physical relationship, maybe a friends with benefits isn't so bad. I have maintained a purely physical relationship for years. It seems to cut out the mess. Cut out the drama. Then it gives incentive for others to spend time with me....

Which is a thing I've been trying to fight. My company should be enough right?
I don't have to bribe with food, or sex?
With the way that I'm seeing the world....
No. It isn't enough. Bribes fully accepted.

I suppose I'll do what I've always done.
Bury all this shit so deep that I'll let it boil over and ruin lives.

Recently, I've been going back to a conversation I had with an old coworker. 

She asked if I was okay, I confessed that I had dark thoughts keep me up.  She went on to say "omg me too! I thought last night that what if i died. Like what would happen to my children?" 

I looked her, dead pan, and said "mine are. 'You could kill yourself but nobody would notice anyway so why bother?'" 

Bribes make people care 

Time to take the dog out for a walk.

adieu