To continue swimming would mean a lot of different things in my life. A lot of different things that I would need to do and a lot of things that I am already attempting to do. But letting myself sink… The thought is so much more compelling then to keep up this shit and feeling like I’m getting no where. Like I’m swimming against the waves and not getting closer to shore.
It’s like swimming with weights tied to my ankles. I’ve been doing it for so long that I am starting to cramp. My muscles are tense and tightening and almost to the point where i cannot move them. It hurts to go through the motions. The every day motion, forcing myself to get up in the morning, get dressed, possibly eat when you have no appetite, Going to work, driving and trying to not just cut a semi off and let them hit you, getting to work and trying not to be the biggest cunt ever because your mood swings are so bad today that you even hate yourself. Dealing with bitching customers and suppressing the need to say “FUCK YOU” and deal with your father the next day with a what the fuck attitude. Driving home, get home, getting your nightly anxiety (every goddamn night, I shit you not), taking a Xanax or smoking some pot and thinking maybe I should just take rest of the bottle I mean why the fuck not.. Then remembering that trying to OD last time did not work and resulted in waking up in a pile of your own vomit and causing you to admit yourself into the hospital (which was NO help whatsoever) so that you can possibly get help from the doctors that had no idea what the fuck they were doing and the staff of the crazy ward who don’t know there mouth from their assholes.
Going to sleep and doing the same thing all over again. Sometimes it’s different. Sometimes I’m really good for a week, maybe even a few. I get back on my diet and I work out every day, I feel great. I feel like I’m almost to shore. Things are good again. My family can actually stand to be around me and so can my co-workers. Crazy idea here but why can’t this be all the time? But no. It can’t. I do not know why, nor do i have an explanation for this absurd cycle of my life.
But I can tell myself that no matter how dark it gets while I drown, eventually my body will float back up to the light and some air will some how find it’s way to my lungs and I will breath again and give my good days a hell of a ride. Because that’s all i have right now. That is my hope. That is why I have not let the weights on my ankles pull me all the way down to the dark depths of the sea. Because I do get close to shore. I may never get there completely but I get to wade in the sand bar long enough to breath life into my dying and raged lungs. I get to be a human again and not some monster dragged up from the bottoms of the sea.
The ocean is so pretty, so alluring sometimes. Being so deep down there you have such off thoughts. I guess the lack of “oxygen” gets to you and makes you see things that aren’t there. Like the plus sides of dying, which i think there are many. But being back to the shore shows me the things I live for every day. I have three younger sisters and a younger brother. I am the oldest. I’ve changed all of their diapers. I’ve rocked them to sleep, showed them how to play soccer and volleyball. I’ve helped them get through school and I have so much more that I need to be there to see. I would never want my mom to have to bury me. My dad is another story. I wouldn’t want him to have to but at the same time I would want him to hurt so much more then I can imagine. To hurt like he has hurt me. To feel as low as he had me through the years. I know he loves me, I know he has done a lot for my family. But there is a sick part of me that wants him to know how he has made me feel. I’ll talk about that another day. I love my parents very much. I don’t want them to ever have to find my body and read my suicide notes, that yes I have written already. I don’t want them to have to make the decision on breaking my shoulders if I don’t fit in the coffin they bought because yes that is a question that is posed, we had to do that with my grampa and I studied mortuary science for a long time and came across that information. I wouldnt want them to have to cremate me either. But if they one day do, I want them to read these blog entries. To know that my death wasn’t in vain and that maybe I helped someone that is going through what I am. To know that it wasn’t all their fault.
The end of that got a little sappy, sorrrrrrry. I normally am not one to care that much but when it comes to my family I have a hard time not caring. There’s a lot of things that I have been through that my family does not know about. Maybe they will find out one day. Maybe not. Why make someone hurt more then they have to… Why let someone know all your dirty little secrets if it will tear them to pieces? Because sometimes you just have to. Sometimes knowing the reasons why someone is the way they are, it helps them cope. That seems to be a word I run into all too often. Fuck learning how to “cope”. What is coping? I don’t know.. Hopefully, maybe I’ll find out and tell you lol
But good night creepy strangers that read about my life. I hope my problems please your entertainment needs.