Any that's spent 5 minutes reading my blog knows that over the last several years, me living out that year wasn't always as certain as it should be relative to someone my age. I've only had close encounters with the possibly of not seeing the sun rise the next day maybe about 4 times, but other than that, my basic survival was in question for the last 3 years because of my failing health. What have all these brushes with death taught me? They've taught me the importance of regret. They've taught me the importance of love. Most importantly, I've learned that there are only a certain number of things in life that I can actively control. Sometimes a shitty situation is a shitty situation and you've gotta take it for what it's worth. Sometimes, you've gotta concede defeat in order to continue the war.
Lately, I'm having difficulty telling who the good guys are. I guess war is a bad analogy when trying to describe your life, but if nothing else, I've been battling, trying to get up the hill, and back to myself. Of course, I would have absolutely zero chance if not for my incredible (perceived) support system. For the past few days, I think my neuroses when it comes to the people around me has been getting the best of me. I think it might be a product of the fact that in one way or another, I don't remember really being alone for any extended period of time for the last 5 years. I've always had someone around or at least close by because of the seriousness of my health. Unfortunately , it seems as my physical health improves, I might be exposing my frayed mental health.
This all started when Anita left a week ago to visit her about-to-pop pregnant sister. In the weeks leading up to her flight, I joked around with her that she's clearly making a terrible decision and who knows if I could survive by myself. I'm beginning to think those jokes were really some sort of panic attack by my subconscious. What's troubling of that I haven't even been ALONE for any extended period of time, yet. Really, since she left a week ago, I think I've maybe spent about 30 hours or so by myself. Thanks to a few of my better friends and my nephew's birthday, I've been spending most of my hours with other people occupying my mind. Tonight marks the first night that I will be in a stretch of a week by myself and if tonight is any indication.... Uh oh.
I don't really know what's wrong with my head. I don't recall ever being this neurotic. I'm actually complaining about the sincerity of the people in my life while also writing (typing?!) that in the 2 weeks that my wife is scheduled to be away, I've had or have scheduled things to do with other people on every day but 4. You would think a 33 year old man could survive 4 days alone, right? Only 2 of those days are consecutive! Pull it together, man!
So what I'm trying to say I know I'm crazy, but am I? I've always been adept at reading people and assessing the situation, so either what's going on here is that my recovery has somehow caused a short-circuit in that ability OR there is an actual issue with the people that I count on. The people that I REALLY need.
I know that some of the signals I've been receiving in my head are simply just the crazy going out for a walk. The other day, I friend was tagged in a photo embracing another friend and it triggered a pang of jealousy. I couldn't understand why I wasn't privy to such embraces. From that moment on, I basically lost control of my sense of confidence. Even after I came to my senses and remembered the COUNTLESS times said friend and I have really had no issue with tactile affection and there are numerous pictures of us doing so. Displayed. In my apartment. All the time. Still, to continue the metaphor, you can't call back the dogs of war.
I started to see it everywhere. My family. I spent time at my sister's house both for my nephew's birthday and for the party for his birthday. I don't know why, and it was nothing that anyone did, but something didn't feel right. Somewhere around the time I started dating Anita, my relationship with my sister changed for the better. Before we had a cordial relationship, but not really as loving as you would think a brother and sister would be. I keep linking it to me dating Anita, and I'm sure that played a part in it, but really my illness as difficult as it was, had the happy side effect of really bringing my sister and I together. Since that change occurred I've always felt at home whenever I've been in her house. For some reason, when I visited them for my nephew's birthday on the 8th (I actually came the night before because I wanted to bake some things for him on his birthday - he loves that) I had this uneasy feeling. At this point, I can only attribute it to my own ridiculousness, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there. In fact, last night I had to get some prescriptions filled and I found out the CVS by her house wouldn't tell me if they carried the meds I needed. I should've gone to the CVS and inquired in person, since the drugs I take are pretty powerful and subject to abuse by pill poppers, I think the pharmacist was just being cautious. Much to my dismay, my first reaction was relief. Relief that I would have to go home and be back in my "safe zone." About an hour after I told my sister that I needed to go home and refill my meds at my local pharmacy, I realized that I had enough medication to last the night and the next morning. In order to follow the prescription, I would need to be home by noon-ish . I wrestled with it. Part of me still wanted to go home. Luckily, my better angels prevailed and I told her that I could stay the night. My decision to stay was even protested by my mother who said that I need to stop jostling (I don't know how I jostled, any uncertainty all played out in my head) and that she had already moved her bags to the door and for some reason, that meant the decision to return home was final (I brought my mother). My initial instinct was to give in and go home, but I fought it off.
I've been fending off similar feelings with people that are less attached to me by blood. I think I've been perceiving really minor happenings into signs of problems left and right. I find myself being more polite, as I would with a lesser friend, with some people. I find myself challenging friends over nothing. Over things that we've been chiding each other with for years and years. For more than a decade. I find myself feeling as though I'm imposing when I have invited myself to events with my friends numerous times. It's almost expected at this point. If someone is doing something, usually, anyone can jump aboard. Why am I feeling so secluded? I've spent the last week SURROUNDED by loved ones and I can't shake this feeling.
Am I afraid that as I get closer to the other end of this journey that I am so changed that the people in my life won't recognize me anymore? Not value me anymore? So much about me has been forever altered by this experience. There are so many things that I wish could go back to the way they were (like my weight!) but I'm realizing more every day that they can't. This thing that affected me has left its imprint. In exchange for these unchangeable alterations, I get to live much longer than I would have without them. Was it worth it? What's worth feeling so alone? I know that I'm crazy, but have I really gone THIS crazy? Am I questioning my self worth? As I get better, am I still me? I'm not sure I want to answer that question.
Lately, I'm having difficulty telling who the good guys are. I guess war is a bad analogy when trying to describe your life, but if nothing else, I've been battling, trying to get up the hill, and back to myself. Of course, I would have absolutely zero chance if not for my incredible (perceived) support system. For the past few days, I think my neuroses when it comes to the people around me has been getting the best of me. I think it might be a product of the fact that in one way or another, I don't remember really being alone for any extended period of time for the last 5 years. I've always had someone around or at least close by because of the seriousness of my health. Unfortunately , it seems as my physical health improves, I might be exposing my frayed mental health.
This all started when Anita left a week ago to visit her about-to-pop pregnant sister. In the weeks leading up to her flight, I joked around with her that she's clearly making a terrible decision and who knows if I could survive by myself. I'm beginning to think those jokes were really some sort of panic attack by my subconscious. What's troubling of that I haven't even been ALONE for any extended period of time, yet. Really, since she left a week ago, I think I've maybe spent about 30 hours or so by myself. Thanks to a few of my better friends and my nephew's birthday, I've been spending most of my hours with other people occupying my mind. Tonight marks the first night that I will be in a stretch of a week by myself and if tonight is any indication.... Uh oh.
I don't really know what's wrong with my head. I don't recall ever being this neurotic. I'm actually complaining about the sincerity of the people in my life while also writing (typing?!) that in the 2 weeks that my wife is scheduled to be away, I've had or have scheduled things to do with other people on every day but 4. You would think a 33 year old man could survive 4 days alone, right? Only 2 of those days are consecutive! Pull it together, man!
So what I'm trying to say I know I'm crazy, but am I? I've always been adept at reading people and assessing the situation, so either what's going on here is that my recovery has somehow caused a short-circuit in that ability OR there is an actual issue with the people that I count on. The people that I REALLY need.
I know that some of the signals I've been receiving in my head are simply just the crazy going out for a walk. The other day, I friend was tagged in a photo embracing another friend and it triggered a pang of jealousy. I couldn't understand why I wasn't privy to such embraces. From that moment on, I basically lost control of my sense of confidence. Even after I came to my senses and remembered the COUNTLESS times said friend and I have really had no issue with tactile affection and there are numerous pictures of us doing so. Displayed. In my apartment. All the time. Still, to continue the metaphor, you can't call back the dogs of war.
I started to see it everywhere. My family. I spent time at my sister's house both for my nephew's birthday and for the party for his birthday. I don't know why, and it was nothing that anyone did, but something didn't feel right. Somewhere around the time I started dating Anita, my relationship with my sister changed for the better. Before we had a cordial relationship, but not really as loving as you would think a brother and sister would be. I keep linking it to me dating Anita, and I'm sure that played a part in it, but really my illness as difficult as it was, had the happy side effect of really bringing my sister and I together. Since that change occurred I've always felt at home whenever I've been in her house. For some reason, when I visited them for my nephew's birthday on the 8th (I actually came the night before because I wanted to bake some things for him on his birthday - he loves that) I had this uneasy feeling. At this point, I can only attribute it to my own ridiculousness, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there. In fact, last night I had to get some prescriptions filled and I found out the CVS by her house wouldn't tell me if they carried the meds I needed. I should've gone to the CVS and inquired in person, since the drugs I take are pretty powerful and subject to abuse by pill poppers, I think the pharmacist was just being cautious. Much to my dismay, my first reaction was relief. Relief that I would have to go home and be back in my "safe zone." About an hour after I told my sister that I needed to go home and refill my meds at my local pharmacy, I realized that I had enough medication to last the night and the next morning. In order to follow the prescription, I would need to be home by noon-ish . I wrestled with it. Part of me still wanted to go home. Luckily, my better angels prevailed and I told her that I could stay the night. My decision to stay was even protested by my mother who said that I need to stop jostling (I don't know how I jostled, any uncertainty all played out in my head) and that she had already moved her bags to the door and for some reason, that meant the decision to return home was final (I brought my mother). My initial instinct was to give in and go home, but I fought it off.
I've been fending off similar feelings with people that are less attached to me by blood. I think I've been perceiving really minor happenings into signs of problems left and right. I find myself being more polite, as I would with a lesser friend, with some people. I find myself challenging friends over nothing. Over things that we've been chiding each other with for years and years. For more than a decade. I find myself feeling as though I'm imposing when I have invited myself to events with my friends numerous times. It's almost expected at this point. If someone is doing something, usually, anyone can jump aboard. Why am I feeling so secluded? I've spent the last week SURROUNDED by loved ones and I can't shake this feeling.
Am I afraid that as I get closer to the other end of this journey that I am so changed that the people in my life won't recognize me anymore? Not value me anymore? So much about me has been forever altered by this experience. There are so many things that I wish could go back to the way they were (like my weight!) but I'm realizing more every day that they can't. This thing that affected me has left its imprint. In exchange for these unchangeable alterations, I get to live much longer than I would have without them. Was it worth it? What's worth feeling so alone? I know that I'm crazy, but have I really gone THIS crazy? Am I questioning my self worth? As I get better, am I still me? I'm not sure I want to answer that question.
