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Coming down

I’m coming down out of my rage, but changes have been made for the better. The way I’ve been existing more and more is simply not sustainable. I secretly resent everyone who has something I want, it doesn’t matter if it’s realistic for me to want it. From sweet jobs to major purchases to beautiful children, to a low paying feelgood job in public service, I want anything that isn’t my life.

Last night Steve came over, I thought he was avoiding me but it turned out he was dealing with major life things I was too freaked out and suicidal for him to talk to me about. We laid there and talked about the nice things in our future, how its nice to have a relationship that works and grow old together, even if there’s nothing glamorous about it. Even if there’s nothing to take a picture of and share with my social networks, its doesn’t mean its not a miracle and an amazing worthwhile thing in my life. He went home and my brilliant artist friend Pete jumped on FB and gave me a bunch of new perspective about how important it is to be an artist in the world, even if ‘the man’ thinks its a waste of time and even if I can’t make money at it.

Something that gets me down is, in my own narrative, I’m poor, I’m mentally ill, I’m a have-not. I crawl over homeless people sleeping in the street to get to my temp job. So when I see affluence, or even worse, bragging about affluence, I get so angry. If you have all that, why aren’t you helping others and bragging about THAT? What is brag worthy about the fact you are winning in an oppressive capitalist system? And then, with the very same brain cells, I wonder why I’M not rich, why I can’t have affluence and all the comforts and opportunities and travel it provides.

By “rich” I mean you have ever had more than $1000 worth of assets or cash at one time. I haven’t had that in years, and I doubt I’ll ever have it again, with the way things are going. If you have a car, to me, you are rich. If you go to burning man, i can’t imagine how you get the kind of money to get time off and gas money/plane fare. I’ve taken one trip in years, to baltimore to see my grandma who is very old, and my dad paid for it. I’m so blessed my parents are alive, that my dad cares for me enough to give me a little money when its very important (like seeing grandma, or not going to debtors prison). I’m lucky, I’m lucky, I should feel lucky, I repeat to myself all day every day. And I try to be a better person than the one I was born into, I try to keep my nose to the grindstone and think about making a financial future. And then I try and fail and fail and fail and fail and it feels like everything is stacked against me and THEN I see other people doing well and succeeding and drinking and having good times…my idea of a good time is turning off all the lights and watching sopranos with my bf, or having coffee with a friend, that’s all I have to look forward to, and even that, lately, has been tainted with my financial ill-never-amount-to-anything despair. Steve has more money than me. Nearly all my friends have more money than me. The only time I feel like someone who is doing ok for myself is at an AA meeting with people who are in and out of jail, or surrounded by homeless people.

I don’t even want fancy things, I never have and I never will – I just want to stop worrying. I want to think if I get sick, I can get treatment without going to debtors prison. I want to know, if I’m getting suicidal because of the dark hopeless endless Seattle skies, that I can afford to fly to CA and stay with a friend for a weekend. But I not only don’t have that, it gets further out of my grasp every year. As I write this I’m making less money per hour than I have in a decade, after a year of unemployment. Its a temp job and after that I just don’t know what I’ll do. All my money goes to trying to keep my mental health in check. Everyone tells me to stop worrying, but not HOW to stop worrying. Maybe me therapist can help, but I’ve seen so many therapists and so far, they’ve only made the tiniest dent in my dysfunction.

I’ve been holding this all in for so long, not wanting to worry friends, wanting to impress people and please them and put them at ease, that with one face I will tell a friend how great my life is, with another face I hate them for having money and children and the things that seem out of my grasp. I want to view the world in a way that allows me to function. I don’t want to hate people, I REALLY don’t want to hate my friends. But I’m tired of riding Bitch.

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This entry was posted on November 7, 2013 by in Alcohol Recovery, Anxiety, Discovering Tats.
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