26 March 2019

 I want to write profound things, tonight...

Yet, honestly, I am terribly confused in my brain, and I question if I'm still (or ever was) sane.

I do not understand my present life circumstances; and I do not know what parts of my character and motives have interacted to land me here. I fear trying to compare my life with others, because, when I try, I always paint myself as a horrible failure... and that tears me up, inside.

I know I've said it, many times before, that I consider suicide, seriously, as a way of "gracefully exiting" before I waste any more resources. There's another part of me that hates the fact that my mind is willing to offer that as a solution to my woes. I still try to take medications to curb those thoughts. Early on in my bipolar diagnosis, I took different medications that effectively made me a zombie; but they also made it nearly impossible to perform my work duties, as a tutor, too. Ironically, the zombie medications (Depakote) were the prescription I tried to overdose on, when I did attempt suicide. To be fair, though, I had not been taking Depakote, consistently, before the suicide attempt.

This world feels terribly oppressive, even in 21st century America. There does not seem to be any easy paths to success for myself and many more people. Even the formula touted by the Baby Boomers of "Get a college degree, work in a long-term high-paying career gained with that degree, and retire on the benefits package earned at that job" - it just does not seem to sync up with the reality going on out there that my generation and the millenials are facing. (Honestly, I would argue that we are reaching the point where the average person does not have to be a wage slave, because most basic needs can be met through high degrees of automation and machinization. Just consider the advantage to HEB of the self-checkout line.)

Or, another measure of success would seem to be a strong romantic relationship that possibly leads to rearing children. What do you do, though, if either you come off as unattractive (or threatening) or you are unaware of subtle signals of attraction? Even, though, we are conditioned towards having romance; the painful truth is that the entire population is not capable of gaining healthy romances. (Some people deal with childhood drama/trauma, some people are deemed unattractive or crazy, some people do not make romances a priority but still get judged for being single...) [One way that I've been told that I was threatening was because that girlfriend thought that I was too smart for her conversations... One threatening characteristic in women can be height - a lot of men are scared of dating women taller than them]

When I'm out with friends and associates, I can beat back a lot of the fears of being a failure. However, when I'm alone, and when I'm broke, and probably more... I just get torn up at how little my life looks like the "normal lives" presented by the media. I can imagine people crying, "Don't make the comparison!" ...I guess my retort is that it's rather hard to ignore the "normal life" when I'm surrounded by it in the big city and all of its media outlets. What's worse, though, is that the media is not the only promoter, because lots of people are trying to "emulate the normal lives" and they are fairly good at doing so...

With social media, we have the extra layer of bubbles. Not only do we see lives tailored to our interests, through our friends and our AI filtered ads; but, if we are not careful, we start losing sight of the alternative lifestyles that don't agree with our bubble. Put another way, we don't see the outliers? Or, we do not see, as much, that our tailored life goal may only be one of many possible goals that are out there? {I'm reminded of seeing a lot of Burner-driven comments on an earlier post, tonight, for someone who has been involved in Burning Man; and I do not recall any alternative solutions that jumped out on that thread...)

...and, once again, i just want to fucking kill myself, and be done with this life, for once and for all.... fucking frustration is such a bitch...

i want to fall back on the catch-phrase, "Now, I've lost my train of thought" but, to recall the start, "I didn't really have an organized train, to begin with."

i want to stop obsessing and returning to how mundane and spartan and poor that my life has become. i want to have solid conversations with people, without the interference of electronics. i really want to trade massages and cuddle and such, but the prospects for that feel very bleak. i want the time, money, and mobility to be able to comfort my hurting friends - yet those three never seem to come together. i want to be able to be there for my nuclear family, as they go through milestone celebrations - yet, again: finding time, money, and mobility.

i want to be able to speak my mind, freely, and not end up being judged or punished for doing so - please do not tie your actions to my words. if we can not have free discourse, then we are just as isolated as when we were strangers...

"train jumped its tracks, again" I think that last paragraph is a sore sticky point, caused by past conversations. But, then, Facebook and texting are not genuine conversation tools, so...

it's 2 a.m. i need to attempt sleep. i still want to die, though. maybe, i just want to surrender? maybe i want to restore my faith, that, some how , some way, "Everything will turn out all right...."

maybe I just want to let Tom Waits croon off of the laptop, while I gently cry myself to unconsciousness? I hope the tears on my pillow won't awaken me, in an hour or two...