Although my
thoughts/feeling below are not based upon no longer having a serious romantic
relationship in my life, I will admit that recently ending the first serious
romantic relationship since my divorce has substantially increased my negative
feeling vibes lately.
Not
negative vibes towards others so much as negative vibes towards myself.
To be
honest, sometimes I feel like I hate myself.
I feel as
if there is nothing all that good or positive or likeable about me (except for occasional
weird poetic tidbits, which most people can’t relate to).
I can force
myself to act semi-normal, but there is nothing layed back inside my brain.
I feel like
I’m almost never ‘in my element’ (except for sometimes when reading or writing
or working on poetry or art; but rarely when working on anything real life
oriented).
Maybe I don’t
have an element. Maybe I’ll almost always be un-elemental and alone and lonely.
For the
most part, I am fine with living by myself (despite my lonely spells, sometimes
overtaken by crying jags)
– and spending alone time reading and writing and working on art
stuff and otherwise being creatively productive – and playing with my dog/walking
my dog – and interacting online. But for the most part I am NOT fine being
alone outside my own space. I wish I WAS.
My
discomfort being by myself feelings are not primarily related to craving a special
relationship. I mentally freak out about
going grocery shopping by myself or taking the greyhound or doing almost
ANYTHING outside my own space by myself. Since I’m a non-driver, I took buses
to and from work by myself for YEARS and walked a lot by myself, but NEVER
became comfortable with it. I can FORCE myself to do things by myself and/or
walk places by myself - and sometimes I do - but I never enjoy it (and am
sometimes on the brink of having a panic attack during the walk).
Since I can't drive, what I can even TRY to do by myself is more limited.
When I do try I have to deal with my directional issues and borderline panic
attack issues of first GETTING THERE by myself and then HANGING OUT by myself and then GETTING BACK by myself (and now hoping
that my inward freaky outing does not cause me to have a seizure or something).
It's not that it's impossible to force myself to do things like that; BUT it is
such a personal struggle, that it's very un-enjoyable - and instead of making
me feel better about myself, it usually makes me feel worse - for making a big
huge mental deal about something that should be easy.
I feel like a direction-less misfit who is usually so very uncomfortable
doing things by myself outside of my own space, that even if I try (which I
sometimes do) and make it there safely and successfully (which I usually do),
by that time I’m often sweating and have a stress-induced headache (from
concentrating hard on direction and trying to tone down my ridiculous panic
attack vibes that I’m about to get lost or hit by a car or shot or something) –
to the point that when I get there, I can’t focus on happy, fun enjoyment. Instead, I’m already focused on the stress of getting myself back; instead of
being able to focus on what I got there to do.
It bugs me when people suggest I should get my driver’s license – because if
I felt the LEAST BIT comfortable driving, I would have gotten my driver's
license by now.
I have tried seeing a few therapists, but I am anti-pill-popping - and all
the therapists I've seen suggest a psych. drug almost immediately and that
really turns me off. One of the last therapists I saw did offer a couple helpful
suggestions that worked better for me - transcendental meditation and
exercising more to get my endorphins flowing - but she ALSO suggested I get my
driver’s license AND almost automatically suggested pills, both of which really
bugged me. (Sometimes other people’s suggestions give me
the impression that they think I haven’t really tried, but I think I have. I guess I’m too
abnormal for my own good or something.) Then there's the fact that at this point in my
life I can't afford a therapist, so I can't try another one anyway.
I also can’t afford to be greyhounding it frequently – and so even though I
like my house, sometime I feel like I made a mistake moving into an area where the
only people I really know are a few
family members (and much as I like my family members, we have different lifestyles
and there’s are largely kid focused), so I feel like I am in a position of
having hardly any real life friends, real life contact, or real life activity
outside of my own space, near where I live.
Oh how I wish I was the type of person who felt very comfortable doing
things by myself outside of my space, but I’m not – and I’ve made attempts
again & again for years and I’m still not.
I guess I will always be an over reactionary misfit prone to ridiculous
freak outs.
I guess my brain is a malfunctioned mess – and I guess that nobody will ever
desire to deal with it, except in small doses.
Juliet, you create wonderful, valuable poems and art and produce wonderful books by others as well as yourself. You have been a generous friend to many. And in your better hours I'm sure you know this. But I too share your self-excoriating tendencies, sense of isolation even amid bazillions of people and depressive jags. I'm quasi-agoraphobic and while you don't use those words, a lot of what you're saying sounds (a bit) like that. And maybe that phobia for fear of driving also? I forget what that one's called, amaxophobia maybe? I had it when young. Most kids couldn't wait to drive. I had constant nightmares about it, vehicle being out of control, etc. But doing it (and I guess being lucky and not having a major accident) helped. I share your caution about throwing pills at every psychological problem but I do find Ativan (Lorazepam) a godsend. It didn't present any side effects but I realize I'm speaking only for me. Everyone's different. You probably know about valerian (herbal available at Wally World) which has pretty much the same calming effect (or does for me anyway). And you can't overdose on valerian (think it's pretty much impossible) and the side effects are even less (it does stink--but cats love it!) Living in an area that leads to isolation is very difficult! Even though moving is like #3 or something on the most stressful life events maybe it would help with the transportation problems. I only mention that since you sort of hinted at it as a possibility. I think I'd rather hit my foot with a hammer than move but I'm a great big wussy in general. It's weird when we self-loathers finally realize we're probably the only person on the planet hating ourselves, after anyone who might have had a reason to do so (if there even was anyone) has probably healthily moved on to something other than hating us. So probably we should stop. Not sure if you like Flickr but you're visual as well as "poem-makin" so you might want to share there. Or maybe you're burned out on online anything. Sometimes I feel burned out on online anything. I find an addiction to Lifetime and Lifetime Movie Network keeps me giggling even through depression. Great bad movies do that for me. I hope you have things that do that for you and that you focus on those things. I'm not trying to sound prescriptive or avuncular or old-auntyish on anything, just saying I saw your post and felt, "been there done that, will be there doing that again soon."
ReplyDeleteDREARILY CONTINUED
I find photography and digital art are pretty addictive and it's hard to even remember you exist as a separate ego with problems (if you're not feeling physical pain at the moment) once you fall into the endless manipulations of an image. I hope you get SYFY and all the other macabre channels because they run some effed up shit that's just as funny as LIFETIME, just in the other direction. I think a lot of my depression comes from the fact that I no longer feel a strong drive of ambition. So less drive to (even accidentally) connect. I could fake it but I would know I'd be faking it. I like writing and thinking and making things out of words and images but I find the connection thing harder. Maybe because it takes so much energy and depressed people don't have the extra energy for those things (except when I'm on bipolar upswing which is it's own nightmare and horse of a different messed up color). Not writing any of this for sympathy bid, since this is just life as I experience it now and no sympathy changes it as just as no medication really changed it (just helped!) Maybe it's all just the "life is suffering" thing and we should both be Buddhists trying to extinguish all desire, but then your dog and my cat would probably move out in disgust. I just have this feeling Buddhists make really lousy pet owners. I can't see them getting down on their knees and playing with their four legged friends. Probably they chant at them. And carnivores in the house probably bother them. A lot. Anyway, I hope the cloud lifts and you realize you are all the wild rollicking characters who roll through your poetry, full of lightning and trouble and wicked beauty and the rest of things that make life interesting, that throw the challenge back at life's general dreariness as a conversational partner. I mean like life capital L or something. That game player. I think my response is longer than your post so look at me and think "Gee, at least i'm not THAT guy!"
ReplyDeleteThanks William.
ReplyDeleteI’ve only been in the house I currently live in for a little over a year - in part because my divorce also screwed up my credit; and my parents bought this house, wanting me to live near them – that doesn’t mean I have to live there forever; if I move out they can rent it to someone else – but there’s a lot of other crap associated with me trying to move elsewhere already and I can’t handle that anytime soon.
It bothers me a little that I’ve only published one Blood Pudding Press chapbook so far this year. Yes, one is better than none, but it does bother me that my publishing AND reading AND writing is slower than it used to be. I mean I literally have TWO newish unpublished poems to submit right now and that is it.
“I think a lot of my depression comes from the fact that I no longer feel a strong drive of ambition.” I think I can relate to this to an extent – because I used to be SO incredibly passionate about poetry – and these days, even though I still love reading and writing it, I feel a little bit more, ‘Eh whatever’ about submitting it. I mean I still DO that, but some years ago, I would be overly upset by rejections and downright THRILLED by acceptances – whereas now, I’m more like slightly bummed by rejections and still quite pleased by acceptances – but neither feels as substantial as they used to Nor does anything else.
I find of like photography and visual art (like weird collage stuff) AND painting too. Maybe I’ll post a recent painting as a new blog post above THIS blog post. (I semi-recently gave a painting to the guy with whom my relationship recently ended and he might not even like it very much. It’s probably just randomly sitting on his kitchen table or something; or maybe he gave it away or threw it away).
I don’t have cable and my DVD player semi-recently stopped working, but that’s okay I guess – ‘cuz I’m not a big fan of watching TV or movies by myself.
I like your comments – and I’m certainly not thinking, ‘At least I’m not that guy’ – but I am thinking, ‘He is one fast yet incredibly interesting typer!’
Lol@typer. I inherited it from my maternal grandmother who won the fastest typist award in some vast ghastly company in the beginning of the 20th century. I visualize it as the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire except without the fire. And I think that's the only thing she won in this life, having largely led a miserable existence I still feel I should propitiate or try to atone for (even though it was almost all before my birth) in some mystic way. But she's in my fingers. Whenever anybody mentions fast typer, I think of her. I want to shriek out loud FOR HER (who was ever silent) when I remember how unhappy her life generally was. I don't understand the martyrdom except I guess I do--everyone's character and tolerance is different. I relate to your relating and you qualify it exactly as I do. I remember Creeley speaking about the joy of being released from the bonds of ambition in a poem ("don't want it back") but then he was a world famous poet and lothario and player and all that shite so maybe his tiredness was a different type of tiredness than ours.I think his biography had a bigger body count too. But probably it's all the same, the "Say my name" game. If you do collages you'd probably love the Flickr groups they have on there. The collage people seem to be among the most loyal "patrons" and champions of each other's work. Loads of surrealism--work which shows surrealism isn't even half tapped out but as fresh as the "dew" on the evil sundew plant. The bonds seem really strong among those collagists. I stopped at Red Box (leaving the house victory) and tried to get Hunger Games but of course it's out of stock everywhere. I had to settle for a vampires vs. Lycans movie and a probably rather tepid comedy. I don't think we watch anything alone...all those people in our heads chime in too. I don't mean hallucinations. I just mean other people in our heads, which everyone has. I hope I didn't darken your doorway. Cheers and much love to you, J.C.. I just realized your initials are "rubbing noses with Jesus's initials." I'm envious. Don't forget there's other forms than poems and you write about your experiences very well. You've been through some serious shit that would probably make for a compelling prose narrative should you choose to share/publish in that realm. I don't say that as "like therapy"--you know, in that condescending way people do. I say that as "like reality." Because the weave and grain of survival is often very interesting--even when difficult going. Your Fan, B.
ReplyDeleteYou certainly didn't darken my doorway.
ReplyDeleteI do not like blogspot formatting anymore though; it seems to keep changing and becoming more &more bothersome on my computer - and it drives me bonkers. (In fact, even when posting comments on your comments here, the comment section doesn’t work right for me – so I have to write my comments on Microsoft word and then copy & paste them here.
I'm working on updating Thirteen Myna Birds - which includes re-reading the poems I already read/accepted, to decide what order I want to position them in - and oftentimes when working on that online blog style lit. mag. of mine lately, i feel like quitting it. Or at least switching it to a new sight other than blogspot.
I'm no online excerpt and even to make it look decent requires so much concentration, sometimes I feel like it's not really worth it for a blog style lit. mag.
I just posted this blurb on my fb page – “The short version is that it's harder than it used to be for me to get things done AND nothing seems as meaningful as it used to (compared with the lengthy amount of intense concentration it now requires), so part of me often feels like, 'WHY EVEN BOTHER TRYING'?”
I hated the Blogger format changes too. It makes it much harder to even notice you HAVE comments on a post as well. But I had a problem where I kept switching (being switched?) back and forth between the two tabs where you compose a post. And then I'd go to post something and the HTML would be all messed up. Like it would turn the whole post into one HTLM link when there was just supposed to be a link at the end. And to fix it rather than starting over fresh you have to go into that small size type and weed HTML from text. Ugh! But then Blogger is apparently dying...or the literary blog. I saw huge slides downward in the Alexa ranks for "noted" blogs and I noticed many celebrated blogs have seemingly "ended." Not sure if you tried Wordpress or not. They seem to have a livelier literary crowd than Blogger these days. If you Google the "most read blogs" you'll see that out of like the top 100, only 2 or 3 are on Blogger as a platform. That kind of shows you the trends do, where people are migrating. Many erstwhile bloggers only tweet now and I can't get into Twitter. I know it's supposed to be like Oscar Wilde redivivus but except for a few funny (actual) comedians I find 140 characters generally makes even the most intelligent people look a lot dumber, glibber and more superficial than they are. I do think Filthy Richmond is funny as hell but I only check in and catch up with her tweets every few months. But that's comedy and not poetry or lit or anything. But she's damn good.
ReplyDelete"I'm no online excerpt"
ReplyDeleteP.S. I meant I'm no online expert; not excerpt. Haha.