Saturday, 21 June 2014

I Have To Admit It's Getting Better....

It’s been a few weeks since I last wrote, well about eight really.

A lot has happened I suppose, most of you know I did another Lord Lucan. Phone turned off for 10 days, no communication with the outside world. Not sure what inspired this one, think it was El having an interview and not getting the job, I started to blame myself, I’d caused this whole situation, so I ran.

Not literally obviously, although I did start looking at buying a barge £60k, or emigrating to Iceland or New Zealand. 200000 EUR will get you a nice remote spot outside of Reykjavik and I’m still under the age limit of 55 for New Zealand although the transferable skills may cause an issue.

It’s good to see I wasn’t completely wasting my days. As I’ve probably said before the problem with running away is that wherever I go, whatever I do, I’m still there. Not talking to other people is purely a by-product of the self-loathing.

I spiraled pretty badly in reality, drinking, taking sleeping pills and when they ran out herbal ones with prescription codeine that I knew would knock me out. I started going to bed at 7 just so that another day was over.

The longer my phone was off the harder it was to turn it back on, having to face people again is tough when you start seeing things rationally. You know you’ve been a dick, admitting it to others isn’t that easy. I’d lied to friends and family telling them I’d lost my phone, resorting to emailing birthday wishes to a couple of people.

It was nice having my phone off and I did think how great it would be to never turn it back on, unfortunately for you lot I didn’t go through with it and contrary to a few texts waiting for me I wasn’t dead.

Since I turned it back on things have improved, it’s very odd. By rights they shouldn’t have.

Last weekend I had my Dad’s birthday and the unveiling of his headstone, a ceremony my Mum in her infinite wisdom arranged for Father’s Day. I’m sure if I’d have asked him last year it wouldn’t have been the present he’d have requested but it’s what he got and it was way more expensive than the socks I annually bought him.

I’m not religious at all, I don’t get it and probably never will. I have no issue with people that do, everyone’s free to make their own choices. The headstone ceremony was a religious affair and the first time I’d been back to the cemetery since the funeral. To be honest I’d be dreading it (no shit Sherlock) but I got through it. I was numb to it all and didn’t cry. Mum was in pieces, not sure she appreciated me asking her to pick out a plot and a headstone she liked while we were there. Thought I might as well be practical she’s the one that’s got to live with it, or not as it goes.

The things that meant the most to me over that weekend were the messages of support from friends new and old and going to the pub after with El, Mum and some of my closest pals. A few drinks and talking utter bollocks was exactly what I needed.

The crying thing is odd, I’m not sure if it’s the pills that stop the emotion or if I simply wouldn’t have cried anyway. I felt like I should but that could be me over analysing as usual. It’s not that I don’t cry, I’ve been known to shed the odd tear, I remember as a kid crying at an episode of My Two Dads and it wasn’t because the programme was the comedy equivalent of a hate crime.

I spoke to my therapist and doctor about the non-crying and the pills but we’re sticking with them, benefits outweighing the negatives and all that.

‘I spoke to my therapist’ what a line – I’ve always wanted to be Woody Allen looks like I’m edging ever closer, though I have no intention of marrying a relative whether they’re blood or not.

Maybe I’m feeling better because of some form of closure. To me it is an odd concept, I don’t think I’ll ever have closure about my Dad, yes the ceremonial aspect is over but that’s all.

I’ve started a form of Mindfulness, managing to put aside my skepticism long enough to give it a chance and wouldn’t you just know it I’ve found it helpful.

I like it because it doesn’t tell you bad things won’t happen or that you’ll never have a negative thought again. More that these things will happen and it’s ok. Don’t spend days or weeks trying to fight them. Dad’s birthday was going to make me sad, why spend the week before and after worrying about it?

I know I’ve become everything I hate and self-flagellate nightly to make up for embarking in self-help and pseudo spirituality.

The last few days I’ve felt the ‘happiest’ I’ve been in over a year, it’s an odd sensation. Let’s not get carried away, happiness to me is everyone else’s general state of misery. But that’s the way l like it aha aha as the song goes.

My concentration has improved and I actually managed to read a book, although the choice of Bukowski probably isn’t the best for someone with my state of mind. I feel like matching him drink for drink as I read and that won’t end well. Plus quotes like – “It was true that I didn’t have much ambition, but there ought to be a place for people without ambition, I mean a better place than the one usually reserved. How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 6:30 a.m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?” do nothing to improve my thoughts toward finding a job.

Anyway enough waffling for now, I can’t promise I won’t disappear again but I’m starting to be ok with feeling a little ‘better’, so make the most of me while I’m still around.