My psychiatrist gave me a rope to hang myself and my
parole officer is gunning for me. Other
than that, I’m fine. Seriously? For those of you I’m currently disappointing,
and for those who are about to be disappointed, not to mention the usual
suspects of those looking to be disappointed, please take a number and stand in
line. I can’t seem to cope lately. Life seems to suck. I’m not exactly Job sitting on an ash heap, afflicted
with boils and having lost family, property and wealth. Still, I could use some good news every once
a decade or so. Is that asking too
much? I dunno. Maybe it’s the booze, and the pills, and the
existential crisis, and the manic depression, and the pangs of unrequited love, and
the one testicle, and the apocalyptic landscapes in my head, and….well, let’s
stop there. Even my cognitive therapist,
whom I see every Thursday, is adding her voice to the chorus. She told me to go f… myself. Really? That’s what I get for my time and money? Well, the insurance paid for it, but still. Look, I know what you’re thinking. Der has his act together. Yeah? He’s
the epitome of stability and groundedness.
What? Yet here I am swimming in a
sea of shit without a lifesaver or driftwood to keep me afloat. Have you ever swum through shit? It’s not pleasant, even if it’s metaphoric
shit. Don’t matter none. I’ll figure things out, eventually. I’ll find my way, even if my lawyer is
telling me I’m a lost cause and my guru says he’s lost faith in the
transformative value of meditation because of me. Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,
asswipes. What am I supposed to do? Jump off a cliff? Naw. I’ll
retreat into myself, deep inside, with the aid of music, literature, and
imagination. No more reaching out. No more vulnerability. No more overexposure. I'll crawl inside myself and find, not solace, but maybe a greater sense of security. Still, you know it sucks
when your primary care physician laughs hysterically during a physical
examination while you just stand there, half naked and helpless. And by you,
I mean me. Anyway, I'm spinning out of control. Maybe I'll land soon.Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Downward Spiral
My psychiatrist gave me a rope to hang myself and my
parole officer is gunning for me. Other
than that, I’m fine. Seriously? For those of you I’m currently disappointing,
and for those who are about to be disappointed, not to mention the usual
suspects of those looking to be disappointed, please take a number and stand in
line. I can’t seem to cope lately. Life seems to suck. I’m not exactly Job sitting on an ash heap, afflicted
with boils and having lost family, property and wealth. Still, I could use some good news every once
a decade or so. Is that asking too
much? I dunno. Maybe it’s the booze, and the pills, and the
existential crisis, and the manic depression, and the pangs of unrequited love, and
the one testicle, and the apocalyptic landscapes in my head, and….well, let’s
stop there. Even my cognitive therapist,
whom I see every Thursday, is adding her voice to the chorus. She told me to go f… myself. Really? That’s what I get for my time and money? Well, the insurance paid for it, but still. Look, I know what you’re thinking. Der has his act together. Yeah? He’s
the epitome of stability and groundedness.
What? Yet here I am swimming in a
sea of shit without a lifesaver or driftwood to keep me afloat. Have you ever swum through shit? It’s not pleasant, even if it’s metaphoric
shit. Don’t matter none. I’ll figure things out, eventually. I’ll find my way, even if my lawyer is
telling me I’m a lost cause and my guru says he’s lost faith in the
transformative value of meditation because of me. Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,
asswipes. What am I supposed to do? Jump off a cliff? Naw. I’ll
retreat into myself, deep inside, with the aid of music, literature, and
imagination. No more reaching out. No more vulnerability. No more overexposure. I'll crawl inside myself and find, not solace, but maybe a greater sense of security. Still, you know it sucks
when your primary care physician laughs hysterically during a physical
examination while you just stand there, half naked and helpless. And by you,
I mean me. Anyway, I'm spinning out of control. Maybe I'll land soon.
