Run for Cover: Safe Place Needed

I keep finding myself coming out here. I’m on a lot – a LOT – of other social networks. I check on my accounts, like people’s posts, and occasionally find something to say. Occasionally. Mostly I get my point across with comments on other people’s posts. At least, that’s what I’m doing these days.

I used to post a lot on certain networks. Rants, raves….oh, pretty much anything. But you know what? I got tired of having my cyberspace hand slapped. I got tired of hearing all that shit that people who are depressed hear (buck up, hang in there, it’s not so bad, what do you have to be depressed about). I got tired of the subtle and not so subtle suggestions that I cease and desist with negativity. I just got fucking TIRED of it all. And right now I find it damned hard to come up with anything that isn’t acerbic and nasty. Because that’s the way I see the world: nasty. Not Janet Jackson nasty; no, that would be too cool. I mean the stab you in the back everyone has a secret agenda and is out to get everything for themselves nasty.

When I was 12, my mom took me to see Gone with the Wind in the theater. I fell in love with Rhett Butler (and I cried on the way home when mom told me he was dead). The film means a lot to me for many, many reasons. Not only was it one of the few examples when mom and I actually connected, it gave me the words I was searching for in one particular scene. It’s the big Atlanta burning scene, Rhett and Scarlett have just escaped the city and stopped on the road to Tara. Rhett tells Scarlett that he’s leaving to go and join the army and there’s the big famous movie poster kiss. During the scene, Rhett takes a look around at the destruction and makes a comment that this is hell. And that, dear cyber friends, were the words I’d been looking for all of those 12 years of my life.

Life is hell. I don’t give a rat’s ass what any f***ing counsellor is going to try and tell me; my philosophy is pretty well set in stone. Life is hell. THIS is hell. Oh, yes, there are nice moments. Good moments. Moments that will set your heartstrings singing, moments that will bring tears to your eyes for the sheer beauty you witness. You see, no perfect system of torture is ever complete unless you give your subject breaks from the pain. It’s the beauty and nice things that make the pain so much worse. So in my opinion, life is one big torture system.

Cause it’s a battle. A battle to stay sane while so much insanity is going on. I continue to grasp at the old adage ‘one sane man in an insane world is viewed as insane’; sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me going. I don’t understand WHY things don’t change. Seems the entire world is against an issue like slavery, yet it continues. Seems no one wants a war, yet they keep happening. Seems like everyone wants clean land, air and water, yet corporations owned and operated by these same people continue to pollute everything. Lip service. It’s all we give to life: lip service. And it makes me sick.

Sometimes I feel like the only safe place is right here, in front of my computer. Either typing away furiously at the wonderful anonymous blog where I can finally vent my spleen to my heart’s content without any backlash in my real life, or playing games to pass the time. I almost want to plug in and go away completely.

*sigh* Maybe I’ve been handling my personal life poorly lately. I’ve been attempting to reign in my enthusiasm; to NOT allow myself to work non-stop until I hit that burn out phase. I work for about half the day and then try to let go and relax. Not doing so good with that. Usually I’m ‘rocking’ by the end of the night – and by rocking, I mean rocking back and forth while sitting in my chair trying to watch tv. I hunch forward. I pull myself back. Basically, I’m antsy all evening long. As usual, I’ve got no problem getting to sleep. And I’ve been getting around 8 hours a night. I’m not rested. At. All. I wake up just as tired as I’ve gone to bed. I try to stay in bed, asleep. But then I start to cough, or feel the tendonitis in my shoulder, or just get antsy again so I get up. And it starts all over.

I’ve been here so often I can’t even count the number of times anymore. I’m trying hard to prevent the crash and burn this leads to. I don’t want to crash and burn. I want to keep flying. But holding onto this energy, trying to save it up and release just a little every day, isn’t working.

I’ve got a commitment tonight, but tomorrow that’s it. I’m running with it. If that means I’m up by 7 and in the studio working by 8 a.m., then so be it. If that means I’m napping by 3 in the afternoon on Saturday because I’m finally really tired, good! I sure as hell hope so. And I sure as hell hope that when I do sleep, I really get rested. I sure as hell hope I can even this bitch out. Because I don’t want to go nuke on everyone’s ass. Not again. And I know this is the wind up phase. I know if I don’t reign this in I’ll be screaming bloody murder at the tv within 4 days. I know I’ll start to emit that ‘touch me and I’ll kill you’ vibe that’s extremely detrimental to my life.

Don’t want to explode: that drives people away. Don’t want to implode: that sends me into depression. I need a safe place to figure out how to vent without hurting anyone, myself included. Especially myself. I need to learn how to do this differently.


7 thoughts on “Run for Cover: Safe Place Needed

  1. Nodding my head through this entire post….and didn’t realize I was rocking back in forth in my desk chair at the office, until you talked about the rocking.

    I’m Suzy Fucking Sunshine at the office, and people would laugh at me if I told them I’m depressed (it’s happened before). I’m scary good at faking it…mostly. But online? When I need to vent, I need to fucking vent. And I absolutely welcome commiseration, pats on the back, kudos, whatever. But I *hate* the condescending “buck up, hang in there, it’s not so bad, what do you have to be depressed about” bullshit. This is your blog. Your anonymous space. Let her rip (as I know you do). 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I rocked when I was a kid….think that’s what got me into music. Rocking to music was at least doing SOMETHING and I didn’t get reprimanded for it. There’s a hypnotic factor to it..kind of lulls me, even now, no matter what I do.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I don’t do it much…but sometimes I slowly become aware that I’m doing it and have been for a while. Hypnotic is a good word for it.

        The thing I do more than anything (or used to….but I have worries over it that were instilled in me). Anyway. Humming. I hum. Sometimes specific songs or melodies, but other times just random hums. It helps me focus, soothes me, I think.

        Liked by 1 person

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