I’ve been going through a bad patch. Okay, most of my life feels like a bad patch, but there are patches worse than others. Worse has been around recently. And damn me, I don’t have any friends I talk to regularly. Becomes a problem when one needs to complain about one’s family.
Did I mention my family is FUCKED up, as in, even though Pop and I are the only ones to do two tours of mental hospitals, we might be the calmest ones? Yeah, I live in dysfunction. Problem is, my mind likes to POINT IT OUT to me.
So I was drowning in my usual self-loathing along with my “I hate people” bit when it got bad.
Ever had to exist with someone on copious amounts of non-sleeping/non-eating drugs along with another person with anger management issues topped off with another person who is constantly focused on the negative? OH, and a fourth person who decided to sleep through it all (thereby depriving me of MY choice). . .
Kind of hard to see oneself clear. I started by STARTING conversations with folks who really are strangers. I guess I hated to talk to my “friends” that I have “ignored” for long and have it be about the usual age-old-and-beyond bullshit. And then I tried an old “friend” who, okay, it won’t make sense, but he made me feel like an idiot, like a small-minded child while I was trying to hold my two straws of strength to each other.
But then, an old friend, who hadn’t heard anything from me, whose having the best time of her life, realized by my social media posts that I needed encouragment, sent me a George Takei meme.
And so on a whim, I sent a rambling, “OMG my life is effed up, tell me to get my shit together,” message to another friend. And she did. And better.