Lately I’ve been feeling… not “good” exactly, but… I guess I’ll take a tip from Orwell and say I’m doing “unbad”.
I’ve gotten into a sort of low key vibe where I’m just sort of rolling along day to day. I’m getting a few projects around the house done, which is nice. The place is still a complete pit; comes from having a slob for a room mate — after a while you just stop trying to keep up, because it ain’t doin’ no good. But some of the “long term” projects are getting finished, which is nice.
And really, that’s all life is, isn’t it? Things to do, you get them done. Spend some time with friends. I got together with some friends I’ve known for decades, but haven’t spent much time with in the past few years. Stayed up too late, which is nice once in a while….
I’m not sure if the recent peace is healing or numbness. That could be a problem. Is the pendulum on an upswing? Maybe. Is it the calm before the storm explosion? Also maybe.
I told my dad I was having problems. Told him everything, except for the exact nature of The Event. But Dad is so far removed from this kind of thing he has no comprehension of it. And he’s Mr. Stiff Upper Lip about a lot of things. He supports me, no question, but he’ll never ask me about any of it unless I bring it up, and bringing it up the once was perhaps the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. (Well didn’t this turn into the stealth post — five paragraphs in before the Main Event shows up as though it were an afterthought.)
But maybe knowing he Knows did something to me. A deeply buried secret can be like a festering sore on your spirit. The shame is enhanced by the terror of telling, and now that I’ve told (mostly anyway) it’s… less than it was. Everything is still the same, but it isn’t. A few days later I came VERY close to telling my brother — which was totally unexpected. I was just hanging out with him and we got to talking about Mom, and family in general, and suddenly I had this powerful urge to pour it out. Probably not the best idea, really, but still — what the hell?
Anyway, Dad expects me to find a shrinkologist and get help. Not sure why he expects that, considering I’ve gone a decade and a half without doing just that. I think part of why I told him was that I need somebody else — someone stronger perhaps — to grab the bull by the balls and get things rolling. Ah well. All shrinks really do is listen well, and a blog is also a good listener.
If I were to end it all tomorrow, I don’t think I like the way I would do it. Instantaneous, but messy. Good thing it likely won’t happen.