Running Out of Ways
Oh my, I forgot to breathe.
My thoughts have drawn so deep.
Allow a little more room please.
You safety will no longer do.
See, I am just running out of ways
To pretend I am brave.
To keep my fears contained.
I hang my life on every word they say.
Never Ever Known – Original song
True, so true.
Afraid I am of you.
And I don’t know what to say.
I’ve never known a friend to stay.
Nobody is some lonely one
Hidden amongst the graves.
And just like him, I patiently wait
Just like him, I know the living aren’t safe.
You’re not safe. I tell you,
Take whatever it is you mean to take.
Hurt me, hate me, have your way. Because
I’ve never, ever known
A friend to stay.
I have a calendar with different images of sugar skulls (like those from Day of the Dead celebrations). I just wanted to try my own. I traced my own drawing of the skull so I could repeat the shape and create a different decoration in the future if I want to do another one sometime. Was fun :)
Survived the first week, but Friday was my first full day with my trainer. Already I was losing patience with myself for how confusing the computer work is to me. It will take some time and the wait for understanding will be the most difficult part…I’m good though. What’s meant to happen will be on it’s way regardless. I’m open and welcoming.
The past week I’ve had all to myself before beginning my new job April 25th. It wasn’t the most productive week and I wish I could have gotten around to other things, but I’ve had enough rest. Most of the energy has been spent trying to distract from the growing worry about the new demands/people/environment I’m going to have to get used to. I’m scared I’m not smart enough, assertive enough, mature enough to make such a change as this from the simple job I’ve finally escaped. Maybe I’m not sharp enough anymore to wrap my mind around what I’ll need to learn. Still struggling to be on my own side and not destroy what I’ve worked so long to have…
Well April 25th is exactly six months from my birthday October 25th. An odd surprise when I first learned of it and I guess something to look forward to. If I make it six months, to age 27, maybe I’ll believe by then that I’m safe to make long term plans.
This is my first portrait in a long while…since I completed my mother’s back in 2014 I think. It actually reminds me of how I feel right now. My last day of work/overtime was today. April 25th I begin again somewhere new, better pay, and I pray a better atmosphere and group of personalities. I’m just worried is all. What will disappoint me first and then the most? Will I be as isolated as I fear? I just don’t want to fall so awfully this time. Starting over can be so terrible sometimes.
I came back from the Washington D.C. bus tour this past Monday, ill in mind and body. I felt so broken and tired when I got back home and tried to get ready for work the next day. Well when I woke up Tuesday I had a nasty cold and did call in. Spent that time at home applying for other jobs.
I’m all over the place really. There is not time to have a complete thought with creating anymore art works and waking up seems like it’s part of an awful punishment I’m sentenced to. Who would want to go about their days like this? I am learning so much more about personality disorders and the challenges ahead to change patterns that cause more problems and I wonder if it’s too hopeful of me to think what changes I make will mean something worthwhile. I feel like I’m always too late for anyone’s faith in me.
The psychiatrist has written me 5 months worth of drugs and I don’t have to see him again until February. I cringe to think about what I will be like by that time. Will I still be here trying, or will that be an appointment I choose to cancel after choosing to quit treatment? Choosing to quit trying to untangle the knot I’ve made of my life? The new therapist has help enough by challenging the difficult person I step into his office as. Treating me like I’m flesh and blood and not a wad of garbage I consider myself.
I just mean to say I need another way to go about this living. I’ve given up the choir’s demands and have stuck in there with working a job I’m nearly driven mad by. And there is no one to talk to. And night sets in and doesn’t ease up when the sun does.I’m afraid that darkness may be the only thing I ever have holding onto me, as no one else is able to.
A new painting is finished but as with everything I spend personal time on, its a simple idea is dragged out over weeks. I lose inspiration so quickly now. My full time job is draining me soulless. But that’s what we have to do. Another nobody having no real choice past choosing to survive. And I haven’t quite chosen that either. Though I am tired of not wanting my life. I’m tired of being without sustained motivation.
Thursday is the appointment with the new therapist. Already I’m worried about what might be expected of me. Maybe he’ll say I should be over needing this sort of help. Of maybe he’ll expect someone very distraught, tearful and clearly unwell. Whatever those expectations are, I just hope I don’t leave worse off than when I go in.