My future therapist is definitely going to make a fortune off me.
Provided my pride will ever make me see one.
To a large extent, I think I have a pretty good grip on what plagues me, but knowing about it and knowing how to deal with it are mutually exclusive. Although some can and do argue that knowing is half the battle and time will do the rest. Perhaps. And maybe that’s what I’m hoping for, because I cannot think of anything proactive that would help me overcome these things. Nothing that would affect me more adversely than the problem anyway.
Many of you have mentioned that I’ve been….different lately. Maybe in the last year or two. I’m certainly not going to disagree with that assessment. Perhaps it was due to the change in work environment and jobs. I’m not going to rule that out, although what I will say is that lately I’m beginning to think it’s something else too.
Let’s just say I’ve been thinking about death a lot. Not Death-the-guy-who-rides-a-horse-named-Binky, but death as a concept, passing, transition. I’ve always been proud of the fact that I handle death quite well, and I see it as a natural progression of life. Not being karmic or anything, but just….as something that has to happen eventually. So I put on a brave front, tell people I’m ok, and carry on with life. Maybe it’s gotten to be so natural that I just do that without a second thought. But the piper has to be paid and I think stuff are finally catching up to me.
In the last few years, many people whom I’ve always taken for granted to always be there have just….not. Sometimes sudden, sometimes a little drawn out, always sucky. And I can’t help but think that, if those people succumb, then anyone and everyone else will too. And I wouldn’t be ready for it. To the extent that, lately, I’ve even been thinking about pre-empting death so I wouldn’t have to deal with any more losses. Sometimes I think, completely involuntarily, what life would be like without this or that person, and I realise I wouldn’t really be able to deal with it. I don’t want to think such things, but they just force themselves in my mind when I don’t have the will or energy to keep them out.
Recently enough, I used to stare at Dusty every night before turning in, just to make sure she was still breathing. These nights I find myself doing the same thing to other people before I sleep and I hate it but I can’t help it. The superstitious part of me thinks it’s a prelude to the inevitable. The OCD part of me can’t stop. Every part of me wants to break something to relieve frustration.
A good friend made the observation that when Mitzi passed away, I was grouchy, grumpy and generally difficult to be with for months after, even though I didn’t realise it then. I thank her and everyone else for their patience, love and understanding during that period. I must have been really bad. She also warned that the same thing would happen after Dusty passed.
But what if Dusty was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak?
Uncles, aunties, brother, cat….so many have left so quickly in such a short period.
The nagging thought that this has been the cause of my malaise has been there for a long time. I’m hoping that by putting words to paper, albeit metaphorically such as here, it would kick in a process of self-healing. I still don’t want to talk about things, and I still think these issues (for me anyway) are best dealt with internally. I’m probably mistaken in my thinking, but that’s the only, or rather, least painful and most effective way I know how.
If any of you wants to flee the scene and cease dealing with a grumpy me, this is your chance. I cannot guarantee I’ll be back to “normal” anytime soon. I cannot even begin to tell you what “normal” is. I do want to be more like I was a mere 5, 6 years ago. I see the difference in myself and I don’t particularly appreciate it. If you do decide to stick around, then I thank you for from the bottom of my heart for your patience, love and understanding. Really.
Where do I go from here?
I don’t know.
The guy side of me wants to stay the course and suck it up and move on.
The gay side is telling me to call Oprah.
To a large extent, I think I have a pretty good grip on what plagues me, but knowing about it and knowing how to deal with it are mutually exclusive. Although some can and do argue that knowing is half the battle and time will do the rest. Perhaps. And maybe that’s what I’m hoping for, because I cannot think of anything proactive that would help me overcome these things. Nothing that would affect me more adversely than the problem anyway.
Many of you have mentioned that I’ve been….different lately. Maybe in the last year or two. I’m certainly not going to disagree with that assessment. Perhaps it was due to the change in work environment and jobs. I’m not going to rule that out, although what I will say is that lately I’m beginning to think it’s something else too.
Let’s just say I’ve been thinking about death a lot. Not Death-the-guy-who-rides-a-horse-named-Binky, but death as a concept, passing, transition. I’ve always been proud of the fact that I handle death quite well, and I see it as a natural progression of life. Not being karmic or anything, but just….as something that has to happen eventually. So I put on a brave front, tell people I’m ok, and carry on with life. Maybe it’s gotten to be so natural that I just do that without a second thought. But the piper has to be paid and I think stuff are finally catching up to me.
In the last few years, many people whom I’ve always taken for granted to always be there have just….not. Sometimes sudden, sometimes a little drawn out, always sucky. And I can’t help but think that, if those people succumb, then anyone and everyone else will too. And I wouldn’t be ready for it. To the extent that, lately, I’ve even been thinking about pre-empting death so I wouldn’t have to deal with any more losses. Sometimes I think, completely involuntarily, what life would be like without this or that person, and I realise I wouldn’t really be able to deal with it. I don’t want to think such things, but they just force themselves in my mind when I don’t have the will or energy to keep them out.
Recently enough, I used to stare at Dusty every night before turning in, just to make sure she was still breathing. These nights I find myself doing the same thing to other people before I sleep and I hate it but I can’t help it. The superstitious part of me thinks it’s a prelude to the inevitable. The OCD part of me can’t stop. Every part of me wants to break something to relieve frustration.
A good friend made the observation that when Mitzi passed away, I was grouchy, grumpy and generally difficult to be with for months after, even though I didn’t realise it then. I thank her and everyone else for their patience, love and understanding during that period. I must have been really bad. She also warned that the same thing would happen after Dusty passed.
But what if Dusty was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak?
Uncles, aunties, brother, cat….so many have left so quickly in such a short period.
The nagging thought that this has been the cause of my malaise has been there for a long time. I’m hoping that by putting words to paper, albeit metaphorically such as here, it would kick in a process of self-healing. I still don’t want to talk about things, and I still think these issues (for me anyway) are best dealt with internally. I’m probably mistaken in my thinking, but that’s the only, or rather, least painful and most effective way I know how.
If any of you wants to flee the scene and cease dealing with a grumpy me, this is your chance. I cannot guarantee I’ll be back to “normal” anytime soon. I cannot even begin to tell you what “normal” is. I do want to be more like I was a mere 5, 6 years ago. I see the difference in myself and I don’t particularly appreciate it. If you do decide to stick around, then I thank you for from the bottom of my heart for your patience, love and understanding. Really.
Where do I go from here?
I don’t know.
The guy side of me wants to stay the course and suck it up and move on.
The gay side is telling me to call Oprah.
