Voices in My Head

WELL?

well what?

DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF? AS TO WHY YOU HAVEN'T BEEN POSTING? IT'S BEEN A MONTH, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. YOU POST THIS ENTRY WHERE YOU SAY YOU'RE ATTEMPTING TO STAY SANE, AND THEN YOU DISAPPEAR?

i know, i know.

THAT'S JUST LIKE YOU. YOU'RE REALLY GOOD AT STARTING PROJECTS AND NOT FINISHING THEM. COLLEGE. YOUR SCRAPBOOK. YOUR NOVEL. CLEANING HOUSE. YOUR LACK OF RESPONSIBILITY AMAZES ME SOMETIMES.

gee, thanks for your support.

SO, ARE YOU GOING TO TELL YOUR READERS WHAT YOU'VE BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST MONTH? IF YOU HAVE ANY READERS LEFT, THAT IS.

i have readers. geekman emailed me today, wondering when i was going to post again.

WHOOPEE. ONE READER. YOU'RE BURNING UP THE INTERNET.

my parents read. my sister reads. zappagirl and rosencrantz and paisley read me too.

FAMILY. FRIENDS. YOU KNOW, IF YOU'D ACTUALLY PUT YOUR MIND TO IT, YOU COULD HAVE LOTS MORE READERS. BUT THAT WOULD MEAN YOU'D HAVE TO PUT FORTH AN EFFORT, AND GOD FORBID YOU SHOULD DO SOMETHING THAT DRASTIC. SO OUT WITH IT. WHAT'S BEEN SO DAMN IMPORTANT THAT YOU'VE NOT BEEN POSTING?

well, like i said in my last post...

ONE MONTH AGO...

...yes, one month ago. i've been going through some rough times. it's not been happy fun time in myo-land.

OH BOY, HERE WE GO AGAIN. MY LIFE SUCKS, POOR LITTLE ME, BOO HOO HOO. YOU WHINE A LOT ABOUT NOTHING.

may i continue?

OH, SO SORRY. DIDN'T MEAN TO INTERRUPT YOUR PITY PARTY.

so i've been trying to get my life back together. to figure out what's wrong in my life.

AND? WHAT, PRAY TELL, IS MAKING YOUR LIFE SO HORRIBLE?

well, you, for starters.

PARDON ME?

you. the critical voice in my head. the voice that tells me that nothing i do is good enough, that everything i do is wrong, that i'm substandard.

YOU'RE DELUDED.

no, i'm not. you've been telling me all of this for years, as far back as i can remember. you told me i was lazy, uncoordinated, stupid, ugly. you told that i've wasted all my potential, blown every chance that was given to me. you've made me feel like something is wrong with me because i'm not married with three kids and a house in the suburbs, because i've never wanted these things. you've made me feel like a failure because with my intelligence i should be doing something more substancial than an entry level corporate position. you've made me feel ashamed of myself because i have financial problems. you've made me feel worthless because i'm over thirty and still single and can count the good relationships i've had with the opposite sex on one hand. and somehow you managed to convince me that i should keep all of this to myself, because no one would really care all that much about my insecurities.

AND WHY SHOULD THEY? EVERYONE'S INSECURE, EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN PROBLEMS TO DEAL WITH. AND YOU THINK YOU'RE SO SPECIAL THAT EVERYONE SHOULD STOP WHAT THEY'RE DOING AND FIX YOUR PROBLEMS? HOW OLD ARE YOU? FIVE? SHOULDN'T YOU BE ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AT THIS POINT?

i am.

HA. AND HOW ARE YOU GOING ABOUT THIS?

well, for one, i'm not listening to you anymore. i'm not believing what you tell me. you've been screaming at me through a bullhorn for most of my life telling me what a worthless piece of crap i am, using every failure in my life as proof to back up your arguement, and i'm personally getting tired of getting kicked in the head, so to speak. i've been concentrating on standing up for myself, treating myself better. and guess what? i'm starting to eat and sleep like a semi-normal person for the first time in years. i'm not homefree yet, but at least i have some idea of where i'm going.

BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. AND THIS HAS WHAT TO DO WITH WHY YOU HAVEN'T POSTED?

well, a lot of it was that i didn't want to continue to post about how crappy my life has been every day whiule all this was going on. it would be like reading the complete collection of lyrics from the Smiths. and part of it is because i've been hanging out with zappagirl doing other non-computer related stuff.

WATCHING TV, IN OTHER WORDS.

well, yes. and reading. trying to let my brain destress after mentally beating myself up for thirty or so years. and other things too. zappagirl decided i needed a project, so she bought me a latch hook kit, and i worked on that for a while.

AH, LATCH HOOK. HOW 70'S. THE ARTS & CRAFTS PROJECT FOR UNARTISTIC PEOPLE.

shut up.

WHAT DID YOU SAY?

you heard me; shut up. i've been writing a lot as well, but it's not exactly been postable stuff. it's been more like therapeutic letters that i never intend to send.

AWWW. DID SOMEONE HURT WITTLE BABY MYO'S FEELINGS?

shut up. yes, there are people in my life that have done and said things to me that really hurt me, and i've let their actions go by without a mention because i considered them my friends. actually, i take back that "never intend to send" part. there's one letter i keep rewriting over and over, and there's a pretty good chance i may actually send that one, because i don't think that person is even aware of how much he's upset me. i've been trying to be more honest about my feelings lately. the positive side is easy. although i don't think hallmark makes enough cards to convey how thankful i am that zappagirl and rosencrantz and roger mexico have been there for me during all this. i want to throw them all a party or something.

but confronting the negative...that's been a little bit tougher. part of me doesn't want to tell him how i feel because i could end up losing his friendship over it. not that he's really been much of a friend to me lately. at first i thought he was keeping his distance because he was uncomfortable with me being slightly insane, but now i'm not so sure. he's said some really hurtful things to me, and doesn't seem to have much consideration for my feelings, and i don't seem to be all that high on his list of priorities.

BECAUSE THE WORLD REVOLVES AROUND YOU, RIGHT?

no. i don't expect to be the center of his universe, but a little common courtesy would be nice. and lately i've not seen a whole helluva a lot of it from him. is it too much to ask for a little moral support from a friend? apparently he's too busy to return my phone calls. or answer my emails. but that's a whole 'nother story. i'll take this up with him later. i can't keep carrying around all this resentment. i'm going to pop a blood vessel in my head.

look, i'm tired. i want to go eat something, maybe drink a beer or two, and watch South Park. can i write some more later? about something happier, maybe? something that doesn't sound like a therapy exercise?

YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO DO. BUT I'M NOT HOLDING MY BREATH ON THAT WHOLE "WRITE MORE LATER" THING.

oh yeah? watch me.

Blue Period

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear you out there. "Where the hell have you been? Why aren't you updating? What's going on?"

Sorry. I've been involved in a little side project: trying to stay sane.

It's no secret that I've not been a happy camper lately. I've always been a bit on the depressed side, but lately it's been worse than usual. I've mentioned it here before. People that know me outside of this site have commented on it. "What's wrong? It can't be that bad. Smile!"

If only it were that easy.

There are so many things in my life that make me happy. I have the best friends that anyone could ask for. I have a loving family. I just got back from a fabulous vacation. And yet...something feels terribly wrong, horribly off kilter.

Maybe it's just that I don't deal with stress very well. And I've had a heaping portion of it on my plate these days. My job frustrates me on a daily basis. Many of my friends have pulled up roots for greener pastures. I still occasionally have problems dealing with the loss of my cat. Monetary woes. Ailing family members. Dealing with friendships that went bad. The realization that I'm not a kid anymore, that it's time for me to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, that I need to start planning for my future (you know, further than the upcoming weekend). The whole being single thing. The unending battle with the bathroom scale. The list goes on and on.

And underneath it all, the lingering notion that somehow most of it is all my fault. Somewhere I made a wrong turn, zigged when I should have zagged. If I'd just done one tiny thing differently, I'd be working at my dream job, driving a nice new car, with the freedom to visit my long-distance friends whenever I wanted. I'd have money in the bank, I'd be thin and beautiful with hair that actually does what I want it to do. I'd have infinite inspiration and motivation to write, boundless energy to complete everything on my Life To Do list, an incredible man who loves me and understands me. Elvis would still be stalking air molecules in my apartment. I'd have finished my master's degree, I'd have thousands of devoted readers, and would be sitting at home working on my Nobel Prize acceptance speech.

So where did I go wrong? Did I give up on a job too soon? Did I pick the wrong major in college? Is this all because I didn't write that paper in my high school British Lit class? Did I make the wrong friends in the third grade? What did I do?

And of course sitting around mulling all of this over in my head just makes things worse, because I do start blaming myself for everything. I try to put my finger on what the problem is, and it appears that, to steal an album title from Moby, everything is wrong. I've bought myself a first-class ticket on an around-the-world guilt trip, and there don't seem to be any ticket agents who will let me get a refund.

So I sit and blame myself, which kills any motivation to do anything to fix my problems. And then I berate myself for my inactivity, my apathy, and add that to the pile of Reasons Why I Suck. And the cycle continues in a giant Mobius Strip of Self-Loathing.

And I feel hesitant to talk about this with the people that care about me because they shouldn't have to deal with my problems. They all have their hands full dealing with their own problems, and the last thing they need is whiny little me, unable to cope with normal day-to-day life. Some of them have dealt with much bigger crises in their lives and have been able to move on; my problems look downright insignificant compared to what they've overcome.

As I explained it to Roger Mexico, sometimes I feel like I'm in a car with faulty brakes going down a treacherous hill. Sometimes I have control; sometimes I'm just watching helpless and waiting for the inevitable crash.

Part of my head knows that I'm being ridiculous, that things aren't as bad as I'm making them out to be. Unfortunately it's hard to hear the Voice of Reason clearly when you're plummeting down the side of a mountain in a car you can't stop.

And online tests like this one are just a bad bad idea when I'm in this state. (According to my results, there's a very high probability that I may be schizotypal. Or I have borderline personality disorder. Or avoidant personality disorder. Or there's a good chance it's just that I'm paranoid, dependant, and obsessive-compulsive. Lovely.)

So I'm trying to dig myself out of the hole I'm stuck in. I've talked to friends about what I'm going through. I've done massive research online. I've started writing about things that upset me and frustrate me and frighten me. I've analyzed my reactions to situations and relationships in my past. I've started taking herbal supplements to boost my serotonin levels. I'm trying to do whatever I can by myself before I give up and seek shelter in professional help and prescription antidepressants.

Not that those options I'd attempting to avoid are bad. It's just that the idea of wading through referrals to satisfy my health insurance provider, trying to find a therapist I trust, and dealing with freaky side effects from drugs are scary prospects. Not to mention costly and time consuming.

I've made some progress. The 5-HTP does seem to help make things a little more manageable; I"m not as much of a big sobbing mess as I was before. I'm starting to sort a few things out. I'm starting to believe that the light at the end of the tunnel is not an oncoming train. I feel like I've made a few awkward baby steps towards being normal (whatever that is), and no longer feel like I just want to curl up in a ball and die.

Well, most of the time. I'm far from hunky dory at this point, and there are still some moments when I lose all sense of the world around me, when it's just me inside my head telling myself that it's all a lost cause.

Most of the people around me have been very supportive. Others have just looked the other way, in hopes that if they ignore the situation, it will just go away. Some people have no idea where my head is at, and think it's just something I can snap my fingers and change. I wish.

The woods are a very scary place at night. I know the footpath out is around here somewhere.

I really must stop writing about this now. Focusing on the problem for too long just making it worse. Moderation is the key at this point. Let's move on, shall we?

I saw something on the internet earlier this evening that really pissed me off. It seems that Roger Mexico's former bandmate has moved on to another musical venture, which is all well and good except for the fact that her new band is performing a song that Roger Mexico wrote, and he's not getting the credit. The music is now attributed to the New Guy.

I could be overreacting here. There's a ridiculously small chance that maybe he did write new music to go with her lyrics, but for some reason I seriously doubt it. I couldn't confirm or dismiss my suspicions because I was unable to download the mp3, so I'm just assuming at this point. The best I could do was send an email to Roger Mexico alerting him to the situation. Hopefully he'll have better luck than I did with downloading the track in question.

This bothers me a lot. I'm not so naïve that I believe that no one in the world has ever stolen material from another source and passed it off as their own. But it's a completely different story when it's someone you know, when you know how much work they put into it. Theft is always a much bigger deal when it happens in your own backyard.

What amazes me is the stupidity on the part of the alleged perpetrator. Just because Roger Mexico has washed his hands of his former band and moved out of the city doesn't mean that he's completely ignorant of what's going on. He does still have friends here, you know. Friends involved in the local music scene that might possibly recognize a song he wrote. And making the song available on the new band's website is kinda stupid. Um, hi? Do the words World Wide Web mean anything to them?

But until I'm 100% sure that I'm right, I'm holding back from registering for the new band's forum to make any formal accusations. (I refuse to link to their site, since I don't want to send any extra traffic their way.) But if my assumptions prove correct, I'm half tempted to register merely so I can jump in, point my virtual finger at them and post "Thief! Thief!" in giant flashing red letters, and get the heck out of Dodge. I'm not big on the flamage thing, but I calls 'em as I sees 'em.

Great. Now I'm depressed and angry.

But at least I updated, right? That's progress.