Oh, I got it bad: cyber addiction. Perhaps more properly put, I’ve got computer addiction. Without the keys readily available to clackity-clack under my fingers I may lose my mind.
Tried to stay away from the computer yesterday, as a test. If it’s gonna be gone for two weeks I’ll need to get used to it. Didn’t make it further than an hour before I was back in front of my screen, googling this and playing that. *sigh* I AM spoiled. Got a big ass iMac with a 20″ screen. My hands have the luxury of a full keyboard and my eyes don’t need to work too hard. What can I say? I like it. I’ve got my iPod and my smart phone – both of which I can take out on the web. But they’ve got small brains, and the response time is very slow – or it feels like it in the age of instant gratification. Let’s face it: microwaves, internet, smart phones and cars and tvs (oh my!) – we’re all used to getting what we want NOW. And sometime along the way, waiting for three minutes became a big deal, a long time, a bloody LIFETIME. What’s taking so long? Why can’t this thing move faster? We demand information, entertainment, and food in an instant.
I’m no better. I remember my mother tried to teach me patience. She used to punish me when I got too hyper by making me sit still for set lengths of time. Get too excited? Sit down and be calm. Get REAL hyper over something? Grounded in the house for a few nights until I settle. Get sick because I got too hyper over something too long? Then it’s my own damn fault for being ill and I barely deserved the minimum amount of care a sick child needs. And still I moved too fast, got too excited, couldn’t settle down. It was like I was WAITING for the computer revolution, waiting for microwaves and smart phones to satisfy my inner id. Gimme now, now, now. Don’t be slow about it and sure as hell don’t freeze up.
Anyway. I got options for when my computer goes in. Smart phone, iPod, my brother’s computer. And I’ve gaming options as well: other computers in the house (ancient tho they may be) and a couple of things on my phone.
What a terrible thing to admit to having problems keeping it together. That’s what I had to do yesterday. After blogging I headed out for a walk, and I realized I had to verbalize my rickety mood to my brother. I came back, waited for an appropriate time, and said ‘I’m having problems keeping the depression at bay’. My brother’s answer sent a chill through me: I know. Right now I can’t figure out what’s worse: the fact that depression keeps biting my ass or the fact that I’m not as good at hiding it as I might have hoped.
But hey. We’re talking about my brother. He knows me better than anyone in the world.
Been fighting the good fight. Keep managing to pull myself back from that horrid soul sucking sorrow. Today might be tougher than usual. It’s pissing rain outside, which means getting out for a walk to clear my brain won’t be easy. Or at least, it won’t be dry (the cat in me is arching her back at all that wet). It’s also the day before my GP visit, which I’m diligently trying to NOT think about. And my body decided to get up early; six hours was apparently all I needed (or so I thought at 5 a.m.).
Found a file deep in my computer. I wrote it in 2014. It’s title is ‘never open’ – so of course I did. It is a hate filled thing. Every letter typed is filled with tiny rage bits – I can almost see them leap off the screen at me. What shocked me was how thoroughly I’d forgotten all about it; this incident that sparked a two page missive of napalm dripping words was completely absent in my memory until I re-read the file. This was me, before blogging, before really thinking about what was going on with me, back when I just stewed and spewed. It has no resolution, no understanding in it. Just blame, and
hate hurt. Difficult to read. For now, it’s going into my ‘home therapy’ folder. I know there’s a few more rogue files like that in my system or on the back-up brain. Times I tried to write things out. I don’t think today is the day to find and read them, but it is a task I’ll keep in mind.
Pfft! Fuck it. Man, I’m in a weird spot right now. All shivery and un-solid on the inside. Maybe confronting the rage in those rogue files is a bit much for me. That’s okay. Am I listening? It’s okay. I don’t have to do it today. I don’t even have to DO it. All I have to be aware of is their existence. They’re there, if I care to care. But I am NOT under any obligation to read my own words. I do not need to remember old wounds or re-experience anything in order to try to settle it or wrap my brain around it. I can do that shit when I’m 80. Or not. No one said I had to die with complete self-awareness. I don’t win a special prize if I get it. And understanding won’t take the pain away. It just makes it easier to stop knee-jerk reactions that create similar circumstances over and over in my life. I still gotta slog it out.
If I care to care.