It's really no secret that I probably suffer from chronic clinical depression. I can't say I have insurance or enough money to actually go and see a psychiatrist or psychologist or counselor, but I'm fairly certain I know what I'm feeling.
Some days are much better than others, and I feel right on top of the world, like I can do anything. Then I come crashing down and find myself breaking down in tears for no reason whatsoever, hiding away so no one sees me as the mess that I am.
The last few months have been especially harsh on me. I've fallen in love a few times (I wear my heart on my sleeve, I'm afraid), gotten shot down just as many times. I've been trying to quit smoking, and I rarely drink liquor anymore. While quitting is good for my body, and to some extent my mind, it also adds so much extra stress on me, that it tests my resolve time after time.
Addiction runs rampant through my family, whether it's alcohol, weed, sex, food, cigarettes, gambling. If there's an addiction, there's someone in my family that's got it. Even so, I've fought above genetics to knock out most of the addiction (I only drink once a month or so, and I smoke about 3-6 cigarettes a day now). It just drives me insane to do it.
I'm addicted to sex, and that's the one addiction I can't seem to bury at all. Each passing day marks more and more that my mind comes to the topic. The lack of confidence that creates the lack of sex is a problem I've yet to resolve. I try, and try, and try, but I still have panic attacks when I'm trying to bed anyone. I know, I know, stop trying to bed folks, and just try to get to know them. I've been told this, but anytime I get to know them, they just want to be friends, and that's not what I want. I want someone that can handle my level of sexual desire, even if for just a night.
I've got no car, no job, a medical discharge slowing me down from getting a job. To top it off, what little money I did make was on my GI Bill, after tuition was paid. Because of my Pell Grant needing to process, I don't start school now until November. Which means I have no money until then.
To top it off, the motel I currently live at and work for room, the boss doesn't know I live here. He thinks I'm here all the time, but when he shuts down his other motel in another state and comes to stay here in the winter, I have no idea what I'll do. If he sees me living here, it'll probably cost my friend his job, unless his boss agrees to let me stay and help. The boss knows I'm a hard worker, and has personally called on me for help here before, so I think he might go for it. If not, I have no idea what I'll do. I'll likely end up on the streets with no where to call home.
Despite all these troubles plaguing me, somehow I feel alright half of the time. The other half, I'm busy having panic attacks and weeping myself to sleep.
I'll be honest with all of you, since I consider you to be really great friends. I've even had thoughts of suicide cross my mind more and more often. It just seems like sometimes, I just need to re-roll on my life.
I never do go through with it though, since I have someone I desire, though I think she's getting farther and farther apart from me. A few months ago, I told her I'd wait for her to be ready for a relationship, but only if I stood even a chance. It seems that she talks to me less often as the days go on though, and when we do talk, it's not for nearly as long or as deep as it used to be.
I feel like maybe I've been too sexual with her, for her sex isn't a big thing. This pains me that someone who usually understands me and accepts me for who I am, denies this part of me and thinks it is too much. Sex is the only thing we ever argue or disagree on, which is hell for me, because sex is a huge part of a relationship for me. I express my love through gentle touches and the caressing of lips and fingers, trusting each other with your most sensitive parts at your most vulnerable times. If there's no sex, then it's really not much different than a friendship. While I love her, and I will always be there for her, no matter what, if she can't embrace my sexuality, I feel like this is doomed before it even gets off the ground.
Some days, I just want to up and leave. Just start walking, and walking. To give up my material possessions, my schooling, everyone I know, and just go on a journey for myself. I wouldn't know where to go, but my feet would. I'm not sure how I'd eat along the way, but I'd find a way I suppose. Who knows, maybe it would do me more good than anything I've ever done before in my life. That, or I could just die of hunger wandering across any land my feet can take me (Unless I harvested the bounties of what is left of nature, though I can't say I can name or identify half the poisonous plants in this city, let alone country).
I apologize for the long post, but if you read through all this, then you know why I had to post it. This for me, is a form of therapy. These blogs, no matter how morbid, or how redundant they sometimes get, help me to feel better. So I'm going to continue to write them as long as I need to, audience or no.
You need to be logged in to comment